(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

unnatural posture, extreme rigor mortis had long since set in as the rest of it
putrefied. That great shock of white hair clung loosely to the scalp, as if it
could be pulled out with a gentle tug like weak-rooted grass from damp soil.
I raised my hand, reaching out with the Stories-Bones-Tell power I had
learned from Stale Mary.
"What are yeh doin'?" Annah whispered, "Th' creatures are under th' Lady's
protection, they are! We cannae be bossin' about with nary a care, aye?"
"I just want to speak to it," I said calmy.
As I reached out with my power there was a faint stirring in the air, and the
dabus' body blurred for a moment. I felt a strange, wrenching pain in my
skull, as if someone was hammering on it, sharply, desperately.
I tried to focus, and the effort was like trying to swim through a field of cold
iron shards, sharp and piercing as each hammer blow that sounded in my
brains.
My vision went black for a moment and the hammering pain faded, until it
sounded like it was coming from outside my skull. The darkness cleared, and
I could hear the hammering coming from outside the building. The entire
building seemed hazy somehow, confused, as if I was seeing it through a
mist.
The hammering died, and out of the corner of my vision a spectral version of
the dabus floated into view, entering the building. As it did, the windows
and the doors became like water, suddenly sealing over the entrance the
dabus came through. Within, the dabus turned, paused, and then began a
slow circuit of the room, examining the walls and hammering on each one
once, as if testing it.
The dabus completed its circuit of the room, then paused by the "door" it
once entered. It began hammering, chipping away the stone, but with every
blow, the wall repaired itself. The vision faded to black, and the hammering
continued, first at a steady pace, then slower, then slower...
"Think I should bite him? He's not coming to... I think I should bite him."
"Slappin' him around hasn't helped. An' he isn't dead, he's not. Ach, this is
393