Anne and Harold Rodgers were Cross born and bred, as is said in town. Both came from moderately well to do families, and the union between them was considered beneficial to all.
In 1875, Harold rose to the position of chief engineer on one of the packets that operated out of Cross Marina, and with the subsequent raise in his salary, he was able to hire on some help for his wife. They brought on a young Irish woman, as was the custom, and her name was Siobhan O’Connor.
Little was seen of Siobhan, until the night of December 5th, 1879, when she was brought to my door by a group of the fey who lived on my lands. The young woman had been beaten severely, and when I tried to treat her wounds, the scars on her wasted flesh showed she had been abused for quite some time.
Despite my best efforts, Siobhan died in my house and in my arms.
From the fey, I learned who she was, and for whom she had been working.
From my private library, I searched through the gathered weapons and found an old warclub I had been given by an Iroquois when I was still a boy. It had seen violence before, and I intended for it to see it again before the evening was out.
I carried it with me as I walked through a storm to the Rodgers house, which faced the marina. I even used it to rap upon the door at almost ten at night. And when Harold Rodgers answered the door because he had not any help to do it for him, I smashed him across the jaw with the club.
I spent four hours beating Anne and Harold to death, and when I was finished, I burned their house to the ground.
Later that night, when I buried Siobhan in the family cemetery, I put the hearts of Anne and Harold in her coffin with her, so they might serve her in the next world.
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