“As for witnesses, it’s a no straight across the board, even at locations where people were about. Nobody saw anything, every door-to-door or appeal we have done has given us nothing.”
“Were there any particular similarities between the murder sites?”
“Well, all of them were natural locations for the victim to go to, he didn’t lure them somewhere to kill them. Like the last guy, before the Greys Inn murder, was out for drinks at a pub and went for a cigarette. How can the killer have planned that unless he just chose a night and stalked the victim, waiting for the right opportunity?”
“But then nobody has reported someone suspicious in the area in the time leading up to, and including, the murder,” Alex said.
“Like Jack the Ripper then,” Dimitri said. “Living in the shadows.”
“I really don’t think we want to be chasing legends, do you?”
“Not when the media is already doing that for us, I take it you have been catching the papers?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Pert arse in the photos though babe, you’ll be getting your own fan club before long.”
Alex glared at him, “Shall we move onto the victims?”
“Good idea,” Dimitri said, as he flicked through the pages. “There is no link with the ages, gender, height, build, or even hair colour.”
“All had different careers, they were accountants, a school teacher, a nurse, a builder. No link there.”
“I also did background checks on where they lived and no leads there. Only suspicious thing was Ben Morris’ previous address, turns out he was actually in rehab during that period. Managed to speak to someone from the area who was friendly with him, hadn’t come up in our initial interviews. Why would someone want to cover that up? I spent most of the morning verifying the information we have on previous addresses and all looks to be in order. Something felt off with Morris though, so I have requested written versions of his files to be sent over from the Rehab clinic.”
“When did you do that?” Alex said.
“I didn’t exactly have a laid back Saturday after all.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Like to keep you surprised. On to criminal records then? Two of them did, out of the lot.”
“No, three. Victims 1, 4 and 6.”
“We aren’t talking major crimes, the first victim had a previous for drink driving. Forth had a fraud charge and embezzled some money, naturally he was the accountant, and victim number six had two charges of assault, neither of which got to court,” Dimitri said, reading from the notes scattered around the table.
“Others all clean?”
“A couple of parking tickets and a caution, but three of them are as white as snow.”
“What is left to look at?”
“Method of attack is a single laceration to neck. A cut to the jugular vein and carotid artery, causing massive blood loss with death being almost immediate. The incision dissects the wind-pipe, cutting off air-flow which means the victim dies silently. That’s what Chris’s autopsy reports say anyway,” Dimitri said.
“Lovely.”
“By the dimensions of the cut, we are looking for a long thin knife, similar to the kind used by a butcher. The movement is quick and almost perfectly horizontal which means the victims don’t struggle when he attacks. Killer would likely be covered in blood if he were in front of the victim, although the angle of the cut would suggest that he attacks from behind. They probably never see what’s coming.”
“He’s right handed.”
“Yes, from the direction of the cut.”
“And we have no other forensic evidence, which suggests he knows what we look for,” Alex said.
“You suggesting law enforcement?” Dimitri said.
“Or anyone that has watched CSI Miami.”
“And no footprints, how does he do that?”
“You guess Dimitri, is as good as mine.”
***
Alex told Dimitri about her lunch date and he left her to get ready. The realisation of what this meal meant hit Alex as she left the flat. This farce meal would give her the identity of the killer they had been hunting, but there was another aspect of it that gave Alex more cause for anxiety. This would be the first time she would be alone with Charlie in weeks.
La Boheme was a French restaurant located just off High Holborn. By the time Alex arrived, Charlie was already there, sat at a table in the middle of the restaurant.
“Charlie,” Alex said, with as warm a tone as she could.
Charlie rose from his seat and the pair embraced, Alex wrapping her arms around him tightly as thoughts of what Byron could be up to wracked her mind.
“You looked a little worse for wear when I got in last night, work drinks?” Charlie said.
“Yeah, work drinks, with the guys from… work,” Alex said.
“Who was there?”
“Oh you know, the usual. Minerva, Dimitri, that twit Drew and a couple of others from the operation.”
“Did Nick go?”
“No, he rarely mingles with the troops.”
“Well, you looked to have had your fair share of, let me guess, Malibu?”
He was wrong, that wasn’t her drink.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Alex said.
“Saw you had a lot of papers on the coffee table when I came in. I tidied them up, I hope you don’t mind.”
“Thanks.”
The table was close and intimate, yet both leaned back in their chairs. A small candle sat between them, the flame the focus of Alex’s attention as the fake dinner she had embroiled them both in continued.
“How is the case coming?” Charlie said.
“I can’t really talk about it, you know that. What I can say is it’s not exactly going well. How are things with at your work, what are you working on at the moment?”
“You know, I can’t really talk about it either. We are looking at trends in social media with respect to the recent terror threats, but it’s pretty boring as usual.”
“Right, so as we already knew, work is a no-go subject.”
They laughed and the waitress came over to take their orders, bringing them some drinks. Alex decided to avoid anything alcoholic, the cloudiness of her head a gentle reminder of the night before, not that she could remember exactly what had happened. By the time food came, a silence had developed, it was almost like being back at the flat together. Alex pushed her ravioli around on the plate, her stomach not up to the thick creamy cheese sauce they floated in.
“So, when this case is solved, I should have some free time,” Alex said.
“That would be good, you have been working a lot lately,” Charlie said.
“Yes, maybe we could take a holiday, reconnect?”
There was a pause in the conversation. Nobody had been willing to say it before, but Alex had without meaning to. Whatever connection they had once had, their work had caused them to drift apart, if it was just the work that was to blame.
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to get the time off of work,” Charlie said.
“What do you mean? You carry out research, surely they can spare you for a week?”
“You don’t understand, the work I do is very important.”
“And the work I do isn’t?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you are saying it is more important than me, than us?”
“Yes. You don’t appreciate the scale of what I have to deal with.”
“Yes?”
“I… I didn’t mean that. It’s not exactly like you have made any great efforts. For months now you have moaned that we are growing apart, but what can I do?”
Alex noticed that both of their voices had raised and the couple at the table across from them had started to stare. She didn’t care, she knew what was coming.
“I don’t make an effort? I try, but you are never home. How are we supposed to have a relationship, when you work late everyday? Let alone
have time for sex anymore, I feel like you don’t want me.”
“And you don’t work late?”
“I am hunting a murderer, who is still at large. What is so bloody urgent about knowing how Twitter was used in bloody terrorist attacks?”
“You don’t know what you are talking about.”
“No, Charlie, I don’t know you.”
Alex stood up from the table, turned her back and headed for the door. She had expected Charlie would follow her, try to stop her from leaving.
He didn’t.
- Chapter 30 -
You learn something new every day
“Can’t believe you didn’t drink,” Tristan said.
“I didn’t need any excuse to fail at all this,” Henry said.
“I don’t know my dear, perhaps a bit of drink would help. It can’t make you any worse,” Ruth said.
Thanks Ruth, a real vote of confidence.
After hours spent reading up on magus, Henry had gone to dinner with Tristan and Gabriel. The evening ended up at the Two Gates Club, which was pretty much how he remembered it, if the music was a little louder. Byron had spotted him and had tried to engage in conversation, but seemed preoccupied chatting up a blonde woman at his table. Henry imagined she wouldn’t last long against Byron’s charms, he was a man who always got what he wanted and if she made the mistake of trusting him, she would regret it. He had chosen not to drink, instead he listened to the stories of Gabriel and Tristan, as they became ever more inebriated, in a vain hope of gleaning some useful information. Of course, drink leads two ways in conversation, exposition or hogwash, and unfortunately it was the latter that took hold in Henry’s companions.
Strike training without music went as predicted. They had been practising for two hours when Tristan stopped, shouting in frustration.
“How can you be so useless? Your father was a brilliant Inquisitor, but I cannot see you surviving more than a week, if you are lucky. As the physical side of things is beyond you, let us move on to something else. I am going to show you how to use your power, did you bring your equipment?”
“Yes,” Henry said sheepishly, pointing to the metal briefcase by his jacket.
“Get it then, you should equip yourself at all times.”
Henry put on the equipment Rosalyn had given him. The gun, currently in its collapsed form, went in the holster under his left arm, above the multitool. Under the other arm, he placed the extendable baton and stunner, all strapped to the harness that would usually be covered by his jacket. Last, Henry placed the wristband on, the magnetic clasp closing with a pleasing click as the display lit up.
“Switch that to magus detection,” Tristan said.
“How do I do that?” Henry said.
Tristan huffed, indicating how to switch the display. Henry did so and the thin screen changed to a block of bright blue.
“This detects what magus power you are currently channelling. At the moment it is blue, which is?” Tristan said.
“Vis, or force,” Henry said.
“Exactly.”
Tristan paced across the catwalk, pulling a series of targets from a cupboard and lining them up against the back wall. Walking back to Henry, he peeled back his jumper cuff, revealing a band on his own wrist.
“Inks have access to all the five charms and, as you should already know, one of these charms is the ability to switch between the fives powers at will. What are the five powers?” Tristan said.
“Viva, Corpus, Vis, Navitas and, erm… Cogitatio.”
“And the corresponding colours?”
“Erm… Green… red… blue, yellow and purple.”
As Henry finished, Tristan altered his current power and the band on his wrist swapped between the five colours.
“Awesome,” Henry said.
“To switch, visualise a wheel, split into five segments, each a different colour. Your present power is like a dial that sits at the centre and points to a single area of magus. To jump between them, the dial has to pass through the corresponding sections, for example you can’t jump to force from life without going via physical, or conversely going through mental and then energy. Do you understand?” Tristan said.
Henry held out his arm and imagined the dial Tristan described. He pictured it moving from blue, where he currently was, to yellow. Just one step. Swing. Please swing. In his mind, the damn thing wouldn’t move, but that didn’t make sense. This was just a mental image, it should be doing whatever he told it to do.
“It’s not working,” Henry said.
“Have you tried?”
“Of course I bloody tried.”
“Try again.”
Henry attempted to manipulate the image in his mind, but it wouldn’t budge.
“It isn’t working.”
Tristan clenched his fist and let out a long breath.
“We don’t have time to get stuck on this.”
“I'm sorry, I just-”
“You are stuck on your default power, so why don’t we have a go at using it?”
“Okay, I’ll work on the dial thing.”
“Can you shut up? I am trying to give a lesson.”
Tristan handed Henry a leather bound book, the edges of the pages coloured in strips, which Henry took to represent the five powers. Henry flicked to the first page of the blue section and at first glance, the words on the page looked like a five year old’s attempted to copy out War and Peace. As Henry continued to stare at them however, they began to rearrange themselves, the ink lettering twisting into recognisable characters.
“This book was your fathers and belongs to your family line. It represents the spells that trigger magus in you. You’ll notice the words initially look to be written in gibberish, but that is intentional. Every family has a hand that is only distinguishable to those who remember it,” Tristan said.
Prima sunt quae operiebant incantatores simplicissima est, qui ingenio, vis ipsa, superstruitur. Hoc facito, varias esse simplex dis 'Magus convertendo oportet.
“Okay, guessing any word will do?” Henry said. “How do I-”
“Any word will not do. Look for one that will propel force. I take it you have kept up with your Latin?”
Henry hadn’t. In fact, the caption made very little sense to him. In the side column of the page however, Henry spotted the word ‘praeliabitur’ scribbled in black spidery handwriting. If he wasn’t mistaken, it meant ‘to push.’
“The process is simple, focus on the word in your mind and then project your energy outward. I was taught this method which might help. Tighten the muscles in your shoulder, and then move the tension down your arm until you feel it in your hand, moving through each muscle group. Visualise the power leaving your hand and travelling outward in a straight line. At the same time focus on the word, say it if it helps.”
Henry stretched out his hand towards the target and took a deep breath.
“Praeliabitur,” Henry said.
He did the visualisation exercise, his arm shaking from the strain, but nothing happened.
“Did you focus?” Tristan said.
“Yes.”
“Do you need me to fetch you an iPod to help you along?”
“Oh shut up.”
Tristan sniggered and folded his arms.
“I’ll try again,” Henry said.
He stretched his arm out and took another breath.
“Praeliabitur,” Henry said, this time with as much theatrical undertone as possible.
Again, nothing happened. For Gods sake, why couldn’t one of these abilities come naturally to him.
“What am I doing wrong? I am sure I have done this stuff by accident before,” Henry said.
“How about a demonstration?” Tristan said.
Tristan moved in front of Henry and raised his arm so that his outstretched palm was aimed at the targets across the room. Turning his head to Henry, he gave a broad smile.
“Scufan,” Tristan said.
A pulse of air radiated from h
is hand and travelled the length of the catwalk. It collided with the target sending it tumbling across the floor in a puff of dust. The colour on Tristan's band changed, so that it now glowed yellow.
“Hlynrian.”
As he finished the last word, bolts of blue electricity collected in his hand, before catapulting across the room like a bullet. It crashed into the second target, tendrils of lightening swarming around it. Tristan took another step forward.
“Aeledfýr.”
Fire spun around his arm, like a snake coiled around the limb, ready to strike. He flicked his arm and the stream of fire shot at the target, setting it ablaze.
“Smyltnes.”
The fire instantly went out, leaving the charred target loosely hanging from its support. He uttered another word and the target he had first knocked over rose from the ground, coming gently to a rest upright.
“Show-off,” Henry said.
“Your turn,” Tristan said, an eyebrow raised.
Henry repeated the process, focusing on every step Tristan had said. He felt the energy move through his body, welling in his hand.
“Praeliabitur,” Henry said.
Henry thought he saw the target sway a tiny amount, but that could have been wishful thinking.
Maybe he was better trying the technique Meyer had taught him. He focused on the feeling in his chest, letting it build until there was a tightness that was almost painful. Henry imagined it as a blue orb of energy, the power of force, welling up inside him. He used Tristan's tension advice to move the ball down to his arm, retaining the strain in his muscles while keeping the energy visible in his mind.
“Praeliabitur!” Henry shouted.
He opened his eyes as a slight ripple disturbed the air, colliding with the target. It leant back, the front of the square block leaving the floor, before it rocked forwards, gently coming to a rest a moment later.
“It worked,” Henry said, ecstatic with his small achievement.
“Again.”
They repeated the task until Tristan’s patience wore out and they broke for lunch. During the entirety of the meal, Henry continued to practice the ability to switch between the powers, but he couldn’t get the damn thing to change from blue. Maybe his gadget was broken, but he doubted it. Focus on the wheel, move the wheel, focus on the wheel, move the wheel. It refused to change.
Blood & Magic Page 20