In the end, Maya watched in awe as her sister walked toward each of the bodies, extracted the dagger, dropped a few drops of the oozing giquid into a thin flask, and moved on to the next.
Gabrielle did this meticulously as anything, and with a bored-out-of-my-mind expression on her face. Behind it though, Maya knew her sister was intrigued.
After that was done, Gabrielle suggested Maya start helping. So she sighed in defeat and walked up to each of the bodies.
“Gabrielle! Come see this for a second.” She called with a puzzled look on her face. “It’s writing, on the shawls.”
Gabrielle sauntered next to where her sister stood and bent down, she was then one inch from the body being examined. “Huh, what do you know, you’re right. Looks like Arabic script to me.”  It did to Maya, as well. The curly handwriting was white, which made it difficult to see in the lighter parts of the fabric.
“Ok, well, this is just proof that it is some kind of ritual. Maybe even…a curse.” Gabrielle said with a snicker.
“Do you really think that? Because if that is so, I don’t think we should be here.”
“Maya, curse or no curse, we shouldn’t be here. But that’s the fun part you see. We’re interlopers of a crime scene, how much cooler does it get?”
“Mmmph.”
“Exactly.”
Maya waved her hand dismissively, turned, rummaged through her beloved backpack, and extracted her other prized possession, the electronic translator. She ordered Gabrielle to stay quiet for her concentration’s sake, and spent the following five to six hours translating the script (which wasn’t only Arabic, but a mix of that, Malagasy, and Latin) in each of the shawls.
The end result was “a fantastic find” according to Gabrielle, and Maya just nodded along with the typical greedy gleam in her eyes.
Here is the end result of a quarter of a day’s worth of translation:
March 11^th, 2099.
Shawl Translation, by Gabrielle and Maya Spekter
Body number one: “Here rests the chained cadaver of Anna W. Vinkil, the celebrated apothecary and medicinal guide. Previously killed by Throwing, as requested. Memoire Book located in the P.K. C., as traditional.”
Body number two: “Here rests the chained cadaver or Wilma V. E. Thomas, apprentice of Anna W. Vinkil. Previously killed by poisoning, as requested. Memoire Book located in the P.K.C., as traditional.”
Body number three: “Here rests the chained cadaver of a Malagasy citizen, identity unknown. Previous death by suicide. Memoire Book located in the P.K.C., as traditional.”
The rest of the twenty-five bodies’ description resembled body number three’s, nothing especially remarkable, besides the mention of the P.K.C. (People Killed Cruelly?), and the fact that all of these were dead before the daggers were inserted; more evidence toward the ritual theory. 
“I don’t have a clue what P.K.C. could possibly mean!” Said Gabrielle with an annoyed frown lining her face. “Like, it’s some sort of establishment, obviously. And it appears to be filled with “Memoire Books” so it’s like, filled with biographies of every single person in this room? Pardon, every single corpse in this room. Yeah, that’s right.”
“Gabby—” Maya started.
“Gabrielle!”
“Yeah, same thing. Anyway, Captain Obvious, I figured all your brilliant rant, but you missed an important question…where exactly is the P.K.C.? It could be anywhere, Antarctica, for all we know.”
“Oh,” Gabrielle murmured with a fallen expression. Or, what seemed to be one: “Actually, I do! Do you really believe that I, Gabrielle Marie Spekter would miss out on something so obvious?” She gave a sarcastic chortle, “you insult me. The P.K.C. is in England. The script was in Arabic to track off people with a lower IQ, therefore, only the ones capable of getting completely involved in the tracking would get the clue leading to the correct place.”
Maya grimaced, she felt like a complete failure in front of her younger sister. Mostly because, well, Gabrielle was right, an idiot could notice the location reference—the space outlined by the bodies was a precise enough delineation of England. Even worse, the whole hut was roughly shaped like it. “As much as I hate to admit it, my hat off to you, Gabrielle Marie Spekter.” She said with a curling smile; her sister—for as long as Maya could remember—had always hated her middle name.  Unfortunately, she did not receive the amusing response she had been banking on.  Gabrielle completely ignored her.
Maya sighed. “We travel to England?”
“Unequivocally.”
 
Two plane flights later, Maya and Gabrielle had arrived at London. The night was damp, and a ghostly current of wind ruffled the dark coats and scarves of the sleep-deprived, stumbling passengers. Large autumn leaves wandered along with the breeze, and a light drizzle (nothing compared to the Madagascar monsoon-like tempest) sprinkled the pavement with ant-like formations.
The two girls strode through the cracked sidewalk with their hands jammed into their jean’s pockets, and Maya made it a mental note to buy two fine coats the following morning. After all, she didn’t know how long they would be spending in the city. 
“We should probably find somewhere to spend the night…?” Gabrielle said with doubt layering her voice. “Or keep inconspicuous.” She added with more resolution.
“I think we should keep a discreet profile, we don’t know who to trust.” Maya replied with a shrug. She was right; now that they were both into the mystery everybody else seemed suspicious, and there was no way out of the mystery itself, probably not without consequences. Even if there was a way out of the whole crime investigation, or so to call it, and therefore discovery of the mystery that had taken place, that move was likely to have its own set of consequences for them as well. Either way it was a dead end. Either way something laid in store, and deep inside, both girls knew it.
The sisters ended up in the corner of a dead-ended alley, curling up tightly in frail attempts to keep warm. They did not sleep; they just stayed that for a few minutes, discussing what to do.
“Finding the P.K.C. seems like a nighttime job,” Gabrielle whispered, fearing that her words would carry to untrustworthy ears. “I say we search at night, it’s the best disguise. It will probably be more difficult to find though…” She trailed off. Then her eyes widened in alarm. “Did you hear that?” Maya shook her head. “I heard something, by the entrance to the alley!” Gabrielle whispered sharply.
Gabrielle refused to see what had made the noise, but Maya slithered over to stand parallel to the grimy wall to her right. She then edged little by little toward the entrance.
When she saw what stood five feet in front, she felt like laughing:
It was a jet-black, green-eyed cat, about the size of an eight-year-old child, with long curling whiskers and an elegant stride.
“Gabrielle!” Maya said with a giggle, “it’s just a kitty!” She extended her arm and beckoned the animal with two of her fingers. “Come here, kitty-kitty!”
The cat looked at the shadows behind him and meowed, it stood its ground.
“No, Iskar, go ahead, obey the child,” came a cruel, deep voice from ahead. Maya’s blood seemed to turn cold, the shadows stirred sleepily, and a huge human silhouette made its entrance.
“Hello, children, charming of you to stop by.” Said the man with a shark-like grin.
Maya wanted to move, but she couldn’t. It was exactly like the nightmares she used to have as a child. She looked over the man, and felt her heart drop to her stomach.
The man was not only the tallest she had ever seen, but was layered by several pounds of pure muscle and sinew, that showed through the thick leather jacket he was wearing. He wore shades as black as his cat, and it proved difficult to find a spot of his face that wasn’t marred by dimly glowing, crisscrossing lacerations.
Although Maya had studied martial arts a few years back, she knew she was doomed. On the bright side, her voice had returned.
“Who are you?” Was the first question that occurred to her.
“That’s for me to know, and you…well you probably won’t be alive long enough to find out, let’s put it that way.” He said with a shrug.
“Why were you following me?” She continued.
“I wasn’t. I was waiting.”
“Then why were you waiting?”
The man sighed in exasperation, “ I’m not planning on telling you, kid.”
“Well, under the circumstances, I believe you should!”
“Well, under the circumstances, you’re not in a very good position to be so cheeky.” And with that, he called his cat with a combination of clicks and whistles. “Iskar, go fetch.” The cat instantly leaped back into the shadows, and with a few more of these, disappeared.
“Look. I want to know why you are here, and what you are planning to do to us!” The man waved his hand dismissively. “In a few minutes The Boss will be here, and he’ll decide what to do.”
“Your boss?”
“Look, child, you’re starting to get on my bloody nerves. So that leaves me so other alternative than—” He raised a dinner-plate-sized fist. But he didn’t get much farther than that. He fell backwards with a resounding thud and Gabrielle appeared from behind.
“He was getting on my nerves, too.” She said with a grimace, as she brushed a dusty hand on her jeans.  Maya gaped.
“Now come on, help me hide this waste of space somewhere else.”
“Gabrielle, don’t you think it would be a better idea to keep him? Make him tell us where the P.K.C. is?”
Gabrielle frowned, “You think he knows?”
“Yes! It’s too coincidental: First we find out about it, and then this guy shows up.”
“Fair enough. Help me hide this waste of space of a captive elsewhere.”
Together they started lugging the big bulk toward a dark corner of the alley. They hadn’t progressed much when they heard a shrill, chilling meow.
The sisters turned around in perfect synchronization, and realized they were doomed.
Ten cloaked figures blocked the mouth of the narrow alley. They were tall, extremely thin, and defined the expression all skin and bones: Unhealthy, pale skins clung to their prominent skulls; they were skeletons wrapped in a nearly transparent wax paper.
“Wha o you chilen ink you oin?” One of them whispered into the night, the holes where its eyes had been arrowed on the girls.
“They’ve got no tongues!” Gabrielle hissed at her stunned sister. Maya nodded, not really registering her sister’s statement, focusing instead on the psychedelic patterns painted on the bones of the anorexic creatures (which could be seen through the translucent skin) that matched the shawl’s intricate designs perfectly.
I knew it! Maya thought with a grim smile; these people knew that she and Gabrielle knew about the crime. The ritual.
“We’re just, you know, taking a walk through town,” Gabrielle said with a composed shrug.
“Ia!” Another creature shrieked. Liar.
“You do not believe me?”
No answer came. Instead, the event they’d been trying to avoid arrived: Cold, clawing hands snapped shut on their arms, so tightly that they turned a sickly puce. Then, the same shackle grip closed upon their ankles.
They were being kidnapped.
The skeletons heaved the squirming teenagers into one sack that was obviously not meant for two. 
Breathe in some of this, me darlings were the last words the sisters heard; the last thing in sight a colorful, grinning skull leaning into them with a large, red apple dangling from its left hand.