“Strange, it is as if...”
Wade stopped walking and closed his eyes.
“Wards. Someone has blocked your memories, do you know who that was?”
“How do you-”
“Judging by the handiwork, I would say... Meyer. Maybe I need to have a word with him.” Wade said, his attention now elsewhere. “Until next time Henry.”
Henry didn't need telling twice. Taking his leave, he crossed the courtyard and entered the building, rapidly climbing the large marble staircase as Wade continued to pace around outside.
“What was that about?” Gabriel said, as he and Meyer met Henry on the landing.
“Meyer, did you put a blocker on me retrieving Mark's memories?” Henry said.
“I take it Wade now knows?” Meyer said.
“Yes.”
“He asked me to. I am investigating ways to undo that, because if you can remember, you might be able to identify who killed him.”
“And perhaps more. We think Mark discovered something about the Inquisition that Wade doesn't want to get out. Hopefully, you'll be able to tell us what that is,” Gabriel said.
“We will see,” Meyer said.
They led Henry to the first floor, and down a long corridor filled with people in suits, fluttering from room to room like humming birds. At the end of the corridor, Gabriel opened a door and gestured for Henry to go inside.
“I'll leave you both. I am going to try and find Ruth, she is around here somewhere apparently,” Meyer said.
Henry took a seat by a work bench as Gabriel closed the door behind them.
“So Henry, I heard you had an interesting training session today?” Gabriel said.
“Interesting was certainly one way to put it. I would say more painful than anything. How does she do it? I'm almost completely purple,” Henry said.
“Great aim, hasn't she. She's a little mad, but full of fun.”
“I take it she told you about our breakthrough?”
“She did, which I think is just typical of you. Always overthinking things, of course that would mean you were useless at letting something that knows better that you take over. She was also right about Elle you know, either tell her you like her or give up. Go get yourself laid, that will soon help you forget about her.”
“So eloquently put Gabriel. Why does everyone feel the need to play the part of my romantic advisor? In any event, Elle and I are just friends - nothing more.”
“Whatever you tell yourself Henry. I'm going to go and find Rosalyn. I'll let her know you are here, but I've got a few errands to run so I'm going to head off. I take it you can find your own way home?”
And with that, Henry was left alone in the lab with just the gentle beeps of equipment for company. He had just started to roll around on his stool (the natural response of any boy left with something that can be used as a makeshift race car), including a spin for good measure, when an exaggerated cough interrupted him.
Standing before him was a woman in her late twenties, brown hair cropped at shoulder length, with a sweet, circular face and tiny upturned nose. She wore extremely thick glasses, that magnified her eyes twofold, and was dressed in a loose fitting Indian style shirt and white linen trousers.
“Henry Fellows?” she said.
“Sorry, I was just…” Henry said, coming to a rest in front of her.
“Apologies for taking so long, but I'm glad you found something to entertain yourself with.”
Henry stood sheepishly from the stool.
“Right then. Today we are going to start you off on a treatment that will stop the excess energy you generate. If you can lie down on the gurney and take your shirt off please, we will begin.”
Henry laid back on the gurney, the cold metal on his back eliciting a shiver.
“There is no need to be concerned, I am a doctor. My name is Rosalyn,” she said.
“A doctor of what exactly?” Henry said.
“Lots of things actually, but biotechnology is really my thing.”
She hadn’t replied with ‘doctor of medicine,’ which was what Henry had been hoping for. Rosalyn had an air of confidence about her, from they way she stood with her shoulders pulled back to the consistency of her tone. That, if nothing else, was surely a good sign.
“So, as you know, magus is stored in red blood cells,” Rosalyn said.
Henry didn’t know that.
“And it transfers itself to different areas of the body, dependant on the type of magus that you have.”
He didn’t know that either. She obviously thought he knew more about all of this than he did, but he wouldn’t correct her. It never did any harm to be perceived as cleverer than you are.
“Well, Inks, or should I say, Inquisitors - like yourself, produce more magus in their system than normal alternates do. We believe this grants you the ability to switch between both your powers and charms, the latter only possible in Inks. Anyway, magus energy left unchecked is pretty deadly, think of it like acute radiation poisoning.”
Well, that sounded just swell. If she was a doctor of medicine in her long list of degrees, her bedside manner was appalling.
“In most alternates, the excess amount is harmless, but that isn’t true for Inks. We combat the effects using injections of dysprosium, which is the magus element that converts raw magus energy into matter, which your body can then process and remove. The solution we use is a little more involved than that in fact, utilising biotechnology to make sure your body removes the converted magus safely,” Rosalyn said.
Rosalyn took his arm and produced a syringe filled with what looked like liquid charcoal. She flashed him a smile.
“You will be completely fine,” Rosalyn said.
The use of the word completely was more concerning than its admission. People tend to only over exaggerate things when they were unsure of them, which is quite discomforting when they are injecting you with a carbon coloured concoction. In a single swift motion, Rosalyn pressed the plunger and the dark solution shot beneath Henry’s skin. It was a familiar sensation, something hot flowing through every vein and capillary, touching every cell.
“This would be the stuff Gabriel injected me with, when I first changed?” Henry said.
“Yes, it is. You need to stay still for a moment while the dysprosium takes effect. While you wait, I can show you your first bit of Ink equipment,” Rosalyn said.
Rosalyn produced a metal briefcase and opened it on the bench to the side of Henry. He couldn’t see what was inside from where he sat on the gurney, but she had told him not to move, so he remained still (in a constant battle with his curiosity). She withdrew a jet black wristband from the case and carefully wrapped it around his wrist. The device fitted perfectly, almost as if it had been built just for him. She swiped along the band and the device lit up, a screen appearing along the once opaque surface. It showed a long thin blue bar running along the band, split into perhaps twenty little sections. About ninety-five percent were lit up, the remainder a dull grey.
“Is this measuring how much magus is in my system?” Henry said.
“Yes, an isotope of the element promethium converts magus to electricity, which this device then displays to you. Promethium is one of the other magus infused elements, you probably have books that will explain each in turn so I won’t go over them. Your band does quite a lot of other things too, mainly acting as an information and communication hub. There is a headset in the case for you as well, which you can use to contact the Inquisition if you need anything. We continue to inject you with dysprosium, until your magus level has reduced to around twenty-five percent,” Rosalyn said.
She continued to inject more of the substance, her hand steady, as the little blue lights on the band decreased, one by one. When only about a quarter of the bar was lit, Rosalyn removed the needle and placed it on the gurney.
“We will provide you with an ample supply, but you will be expected to inject yourself daily. Check the level on the wristband and mak
e sure it stays between twenty and thirty percent,” Rosalyn said.
“But mine was nearly at a hundred,” Henry said.
“Yes, so it was a good job we started your treatment.”
That explained how they had tracked him, if they had similar devices to this, he would have shown up like a flashing beacon.
“Do any other alternates take this, apart from Inks?”
“Yes, quite a few have a high magus count. They, however, don’t need a daily regime. There are other substances alternates need, for example hybrids or second order alternates like myself, need magus substances to curb our… personality traits.”
Henry looked at her and, for the first time, caught her eye. He had been too nervous to directly look at her before so he hadn’t noticed she was an alternate. As their eyes met, she transformed before him, the resulting image before him reminded him of a dragon or giant lizard. Her skin buckled as scales covered every inch of her, painting shades of green over her body. He blinked and the image collapsed on itself, leaving just the beautiful woman before him.
“Dragos,” she said, obviously aware of what had just happened. “Look me up in your books when you get back.”
Unperturbed, Rosalyn reached into the briefcase and produced a dark metallic box, about the size of a cigarette packet.
“Next up is your primary weapons, first we have your gun.”
Rosalyn handed him the metal box. As Henry went to touch it, the device clicked and the structure changed. The box split along the middle and hinged at one end, its shape transforming until what looked like a gun was revealed. Henry moved his hand away from the weapon and it folded up again.
“It responds to magus energy, only those that can manipulate it in its raw form, which is one of the charms, can operate it. The gun produces an electrostatic plasma that will stun your enemies,” Rosalyn said.
“And tags them so you guys can pick them up. Gabriel has a weapon like this,” Henry said.
“All members of the Inquisition do. The other items in the case are an extendable baton, again only openable by those with magus. Some impact activated Kevlar armour, which acts like a second skin and this-” Rosalyn produced a small object that looked like an old iPod. “This is sort of a multi-tool, you will find it rather useful. The last item is a handheld stunner, works the same as the gun, but only at close range. That’s it, you can take the equipment and I’ll expect to see you back here in a few days.”
“Thanks, but does it come with a manual?”
“Of course, see inside the case, there is a tablet computer that will activate in proximity to your wristband, it will explain everything. The dysprosium will have taken full effect by now so, if you don’t have any other questions, we are done here.”
“Gabriel said this was going to take a while.”
“Maybe he was just trying to get rid of you. Newbies are always full of questions, I imagine especially one brought up as a human.”
“There is quite a lot to take in.”
“There is, but Meyer is a good teacher, if a little eccentric.”
“And Ruth is a little bonkers too.”
“Ruth is my mother Henry, if you didn't know. She has a good heart. If that is all Mr. Fellows?”
He hadn’t meant it like that, it had just come out awkwardly. This was why it was better to avoid talking altogether. How many people had he managed to upset today?
Henry was back at his flat, unable to sleep, before he knew it. He was more than glad to be out of there, something about the place felt wrong. As he lay on his bed, his thoughts turned to what he should have asked. What exactly was is in the solution Rosalyn had injected him with, in the bottles of liquid sitting in the briefcase that now sat by his bed? What exactly was coursing through his body right now? She said it had been ‘enhanced,’ but he wasn’t quite sure what that meant and now that concern, stood between him and sleep. Of course that wasn’t the only thing keeping Henry awake, knowing what dreams were waiting for him meant that sleep was no longer such a relaxing thing.
- Chapter 24 -
Gone Fishing
Alex and Dimitri visited the office briefly before heading out for the day. They parked at Johns Street, walking across into Greys Inn gardens. It was lunch time and every bench in the park was filled with office workers, sat like pigeons squashed up on overhead lines. Alex walked over to the gate where the body had been. The area had been scrubbed to leave no trace of the murder, it was as if it never happened.
Dimitri handed her a cup of coffee, the cardboard container warming against the bitter chill of the day.
“So Alex, how go things?" Dimitri said.
“Small talk? Really?”
“It's what normal non-workaholic people do you know.”
“I spent last night trying to figure out what we aren't seeing with this case, see it seems to me we-”
“Watch any good TV? Read a book perhaps?”
“Look, we can make polite conversation all you like when we figure out what the hell happened here.”
“Sounds like someone woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning.”
They walked across the gardens and up the short hill to the gate where they had found traces of the victim's blood. This was the route he had taken, near fatally injured, fleeing from his attacker, yet he had managed it - somehow. Following the street beyond the gate, their path was blocked by a mobile crane, an engineer raised to a street lamp, his attention fully engrossed in his task.
“What happened to the light?” Alex said, calling out to him.
“What?” The man said, confused. “Erm... bulb’s blown, shattered in the housing. Why you ask?”
“But not all of them?” Alex said.
“No, you’d have thought it were a surge, except not all the lights in the street have blown. Probably old wiring, I don’t know. I’m not paid to figure out why it happened, just fix it.”
“Thanks,” Alex said. “Have a good day.”
They continued on to Sandland Street before taking a sharp turn onto Bedford Row.
“Since when were you so nice?” Dimitri said.
“Oh shush,” Alex said. “The lights are one of the oddest things about these murders, I just can't put my finger on it.”
“Bit of an odd calling card.”
“How does he do it? When could he find the time while chasing the victim.”
“Maybe he preplanned it? What I still don't understand is how he lured the victim to the house, why was he there?”
“Maybe we are looking at this the wrong way round? We assumed the killer stalked the victim, but what if he was tracking the killer?”
“Our guy figured out who the killer is and confronts him. Gets more than he can handle and ends up dead.”
“Sounds like as good a theory as any.”
“But the guy isn't exactly an athlete. What was he thinking he'd do if he came across the killer?” Dimitri said.
“Yeah, I was thinking that too. The victim was kind of weedy, although any mass he had on him was muscle. That said, he did manage to go a fair distance half dead and he broke the gate to get into the gardens. I wonder why was he so keen to make it in there?” Alex said.
“Who knows, the park wasn't exactly the best place to run to if he wanted help. In the other direction are restaurants and bars, the killer wouldn't have followed him there.”
“We should ask around, see if anyone recognises him. As Drew said, we can't do anything until we know who he is. Maybe he scoped the place out first?”
So, slowly and methodically, Alex and Dimitri started around the shops surrounding the Greys Inn area. Store after store, nobody recognised the face. Cafes and pubs saw hundreds of people everyday, the chance of anyone remembering their victim was slim.
Winding their way to the end of their route, they found themselves entering a Greek restaurant on Sandland Street, a complete circle from where their search had began. As the entered, Alex was immediately drawn to a table in the corner
of the restaurant by the window. Taking a seat, she could just make out the property across the street where the victim had first been attacked. It would have been a perfect place for him to watch the house if he was using it to hunt the killer. Could that be how he tracked him, through the house?
A rosy woman in a black dress and white pinafore came over to the table, her face old and wrinkled, her hair a oily dyed black.
“I'm sorry, we not open yet,” the woman said.
Alex showed her warrant card. “My name is DI Stroud and this is my colleague DI Teplov.”
“Ah, police... We haven't done anything wrong, what do you want?”
“We are wondering if you recognise this man,” Alex said, holding out the printed photograph of the victim.
“Yes.”
“Yes? Did he come here?” Dimitri said.
“He eat dinner, stayed late and tip well, nearly every night this week. Polite man, dressed well, interesting books,” she said.
“What do you mean by that?” Alex said.
“I mean while he ate, he read a book that is definitely not English. And it was really old, like a first edition or something. I didn't recognise the language and he dismissed it as nothing when I ask. He was definitely English, real polite and as I say, good tips.”
“Did he give a name?” Dimitri said.
“No. We aren't busy this part of year, so he didn't book. I'm not rude, I don't go asking things like that of my customers. He kept himself to himself, stayed until we close every night except Wednesday. I haven't seen him since,” the woman said.
“And he always sat here?” Alex said.
“How you know that? He is okay, the gentleman, right?” the woman said.
“Nothing to worry about.” Alex said. “We are just wanted to ask him a few questions, I don't suppose you can remember anything else that could help us find him? Or anything about him that stood out to you, did he walk with a limp or something?”
“No, he walk fine and I can't think of anything odd about him, apart from the fact he dressed a little... peculiar. Kept himself wrapped up in coat, big and long and black, wouldn't even take off in here. Emma, one of my waitresses, said he was a 'Goth', but I told her, Goths don't wear the tailored suits.”
Blood & Magic Page 16