Deadly Sin (Cassandra Farbanks)

by Sonnet O'Dell

  Butcher was no longer at his desk. He stood in the break room doorway, a half-eaten bagel hanging from his mouth as he chewed and my pages in his hand. I walked right up to him and tried taking the pages, but he just raised them above his head.

  “Why on god’s green earth are you wasting police resources on this crap?” I reached for the pages but he pulled them back from me.

  “I’m working on the magic angle. I’m sure you wouldn’t understand.”

  “If it’s got magic involved then I’m sure the case will be going down to PCU, and from what I hear of it, Rourke doesn’t like you worth a damn.” I balled my fist and put them on my hips.

  “It’s up to Hamilton whether or not he hands the case over. Now will you give me those?” He brought them forward and when I reached for them, he pulled them back again. He was messing with me. One, because he thought he could and two, because Hamilton wasn’t there to stop him. He didn’t think I could stop him myself. I showed my anger. I never did anything to this man and he was a jerk to me anyway.

  “Give me the papers Butcher. I can, and will hurt you if you keep this up.” He sneered at me, right until the moment I put him on his back blinking up at the ceiling. I snatched the papers. His face was shocked, then abruptly angry. I bruised more than his body with the sudden contact with the ground. I’d really dealt his pride a blow.

  “You little…”

  “Ah, ah, ah,” I said, smiling as I wagged my finger at him, “don’t go calling me names because you lost your balance.” I gave him a level look. “Little boys who play with fire get their fingers burned.”

  He looked up at me with a truculent set to his jaw. I stared him down trying to communicate that yeah, he could try me again and see how quickly a girl could hand him his ass in the process. When he seemed to give in, I took a step forward and offered him my hand to help him up. He took my hand, gripping it hard. I could see his other hand rising up. The bastard tried throwing me, so I pressed my foot down with the gentlest of pressure. He froze.

  “Don’t make me send you back to your wife in tears.” He shifted uncomfortably, let go of my hand and lowered his arm to his side. I stepped back, removing my booted left foot from his crotch. “Just for that, you can get yourself up.” I went into Hamilton’s office and slammed the door behind me.

  When Hamilton returned a half an hour later, I’d occupied myself by playing six degrees of Kevin Bacon with the cast of Friends. From his face, I knew Butcher had tattled on me.

  “What is wrong with you Cassandra? He just got off medical leave and you foot sweep him.”

  “He started it,” I grumbled defensively.

  “That sounds incredibly childish.”

  “No, what is incredibly childish is the thirty year old man who played keep away with my printout because he’s got some bug up his butt about me for no reason I can see.” Hamilton shut his door behind him so that Butcher couldn’t hear any more of my comments about him, I think. He rubbed his temples.

  “I won’t have this. You two are forbidden to be alone. All your play dates have to be supervised. Is that clear?”

  “Like I want to be alone with that ass.” I grumbled in my seat and finally looked at him to see him holding a plastic baggy with a driver’s license in it. A perky, pretty blonde smiled in the photo identification. I reached for it and pulled it closer so I could see it better.

  “What?” He asked, releasing the baggy into my custody. There was something about the woman’s face that struck a chord with me.

  “She looks familiar. Not like I know her know, but I’ve seen her before.”

  “Where?” He asked, taking it back and giving it another look himself.

  “I don’t know. I can’t place her at the moment, but I will. I just need to stop thinking about it and it’ll come to me.” He leaned back against his desk looking at the identification for the longest time.

  “She’s not famous. I think I would recognize her if she was,” he said lowering it.

  “Nope, Cora Solomon doesn’t mean anything to me, but then again, I’m lousy with names. It’s faces with me.” Hamilton walked around his desk to his seat. I followed him, making him eye me warily.

  “Scoot over a bit so I can show you my working theory.” He dutifully rolled his chair over a little so I could stand beside it and lay my printouts out in front of him.

  “Let’s start with Callaghan who ate himself to death. We have gluttony – connected to the pig and the color orange,” I said, running my nail along the section of text highlighting these facts. I tapped the character on the opposite sheet. “And this was the character on his forehead.” Under the Chinese symbols I printed out I’d written the English translation.

  “Ok, I’m with you so far. I saw another flash of colored light through the dust, but I didn’t see more than that.”

  “Yes.” I tapped the sheet. “It was purple, and this symbol which translates to horse.”

  “And if your theory is correct, what sin is that?”

  “Considering that cabinet she was in…”

  “The cabinet that turned to dust along with the key you were sent.”

  “Was lined with mirrors. Can’t you guess?” I continued as though he hadn’t interrupted me. He shook his head. I sighed. I was sure that Hamilton had been accused of it before.

  “Vanity.” Hamilton read the paragraph on vanity. “What did she die of?”

  “Exposure,” said Hamilton, still reading. I tapped my fingers on the edge of his desk till he finally realized I needed more than that. “It got pretty cold last night, four or five degrees, and she stripped off all her clothes. She must have been out there a few hours, if this is true.” He waved the sheets. “Just admiring herself. Doc Cameron says the cold would have lowered her internal temperature, made her a little delirious, then her body would have just started shutting down. She’d have gotten tired.”

  “Laid down to sleep and just died?”

  “That’s about the crux of it as far as Doc Cameron’s concerned. If he’d not seen the cabinet turn to dust like that, he might have said it was suicide. He still might have to rule it that way as there is no sign of force and we haven’t a way to prove how the killer is doing this or a suspect.”

  “That’s not completely true. The key was sent to me.”

  “Yes,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me, not with suspicion, but with concern, “by your stalker. I kept a copy of the report and the psyche profile in my desk.” He reached around me to get it.

  “It might not be a lot, but maybe we could get into his head a little.”

  Hamilton’s fingers touched the drawer, giving the handle a gentle tug, which made his shoulder bump my side. My arm shot to the top of his chair to steady myself, and his arm cradled my waist. Just at that moment, the door opened with a thunk against the wall and Rourke stood there looking pissed. Her face became a mask of shock, which almost made me laugh when I considered it must look like I was climbing into Hamilton’s lap. Then she looked pissed again.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  Hamilton ignored her, looking at me instead.

  “Sorry, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, next time you want something and I’m in the way, ask me to move. Also you can let go now.” He let go of my waist. I wobbled a little but managed to stay upright. I collected my papers, folded them and tucked them in the larger, inner pocket of my coat. Rourke stomped her way up to the desk.

  “If Farbanks is here, you’ve got a supernatural case and haven’t informed me, yet again.” Hamilton remained calm and clasped his hands together, resting his elbows on his desk. I got another look at his profile. He seemed very noble.

  “We were not discussing a case. We were talking about the fact that Cassandra’s unwanted admirer has returned.”

  “You’ve got a stalker,” said Rourke louder than I liked while staring at me. I felt shame color my face.

  “It appears so. I filed a report with Hamilton’s help a couple
of months ago.” I told her this so that if she wanted to check to make sure it was legitimate, she could.

  “Why didn’t you come to me?” demanded Rourke. I looked at her stunned. Rourke and I never really got along. We baited each other constantly in conversation, and I was pretty sure that she hated me because she didn’t understand me.

  “Why would I come to you? Because we’re such great gal pals? I hardly thought you would care or help me. You’ve told me before that we are not friends. I might believe you would pour water on me if I was standing right in front of you and on fire. But if some psycho were to kill me far away from you, you’d hardly wail my loss at my funeral.” That was the bottom line in our association. I think Rourke knew it, yet seemed shock to hear me say it out loud.

  “Besides, I’d probably deserve it right, being what I am,” I finished. Rourke would read that as, ‘I’m a witch, so of course I deserve to get burned at the stake’. Not as ‘I’m not a human being, although I look like one, so you hate me on principle because you hate all none humans’. Rourke stood in muted silence. She didn’t like that I thought so little of her, but didn’t profess that she would have helped me if I asked. From the emotions flitting across her face, even she wasn’t sure it was the truth. I turned to Hamilton.

  “I’ll call or drop in if I figure out anything more about who it might be.” I gave a little wiggle of my fingers over my shoulder and pulled the office door shut behind me. Once it was, their shouting match could begin. I spared a look to my right at Butcher. He sat back in his chair looking distinctly pleased with himself. I knew he sent a message to Rourke calling her up here. He wanted me shunted from the case. I couldn’t work out where his animosity stemmed from, but I knew with a man like him around, I’d have to watch for Butcher’s cleaver in my back.

  Chapter Six

  I walked through the door feeling bone tired. As I walked home I watched the sun, a clear, bright orb of deep, pinkish orange hanging in the sky. The sight was so beautiful I stopped to admire it, wondering how such darkness could exist in the world with sunsets like that.

  I took off my coat, hung it on the peg by the door, and kicked off my shoes as I went into my room. I collapsed onto my bed, and stared at the canopy, letting my breathing go slow and even. I had several things to consider and would do much better if I had a calmer frame of mind.

  My stalker was back and I wondered what I would have to endure this time. The flowers had been harmless but poisoned chocolates had followed that. In my head, I couldn’t adjust an image of a man who could dance between affection and cruelty so easily. Also, I would have to be cautious of any food I found lying around the apartment. If he was smart, and I feared that he was, he would hide his poisons in foods I expected to find in my place.

  I still had no idea who he was. He hadn’t shown himself to me, although there had been glimpses of his presence. That sinister, Cheshire cat grin, and now he was a murderer. He possessed a great, dark power that was certain. I tried to fathom why he would kill these people. If the police could connect the two victims it might help to understand his motive. From a personal perspective, neither had done me harm, so he couldn’t be killing them for me. He had sent me the key, part of a crime scene, but why? Was he inviting me to view his handiwork like I would enjoy or appreciate it? What about me said that I would be impressed or even affected by the deaths of two strangers? I winced a little at the harshness of my thoughts. I had been affected by the deaths of these two people. A life is a life and it’s horrible to witness its loss, but isn’t it always a little easier to cope with when it’s not someone connected to you?

  He could have sent the key to me knowing I would be on the case. Why would he want me on the case? He had to be either mocking me and my efforts or… The thought hit me broadside. He wanted me to catch him, or at least find him. He was engineering a way for us to meet face to face. I’d improved my wards so that he couldn’t use his familiar to watch me. I’d drawn the curtains on his peeping. He could, however, watch me through the investigation. It would bring me out into the open for him. He was always a few steps ahead out of reach and could glance back over his shoulder to watch me chase him. I didn’t understand what men enjoyed so much about “the chase”.

  I felt the atmosphere in the apartment jangle as it did when it was anchored by my amulet. It was full dark. I thought of Aram. True to his word, he had stayed away. Even his brother had kept his distance. It was Monday night and Dante’s would be closed so that Jareth (as the leader) could see to the kiss’s affairs. He always took to the floor for the first part of the night, so I would be pretty safe to call his direct line and not have to talk to him. I did, however, feel an overpowering desire to talk to Aram, just about my day, my worries, nothing too deep and meaningful. They always say that worries shared are worries halved. I picked up the phone and dialed Dante’s before my rational mind could talk me out of it. It was answered on the second ring.

  “Dante’s Inferno, this is Lance. How may I help you this evening?” I smiled to myself at his very practiced telephone manner. Lance was the daytime guy for both of the brothers. Despite the fact that the vampire rights bill went through with fantastic effect, and a steady stream of all night businesses catering to them emerged, there were still offices only open during the day, like government buildings and banks. I had doubted whether or not, despite all sovereign clans smoothing the way, it would pass. Although they won the right to be acknowledged as living beings a long time before, the vampires wanted certain rights. They wanted the right to marry and direct ownership of certain businesses that had bared them. They wanted the ability to vote, indiscriminate employment, and benefit entitlement if unable to find means of employment. They also wanted the ability to drive. The DVLA–Driving and Vehicle Licensing Authority–was only open during the day, but one could now book a special appointment to take the test after dark. In exchange, they offered a lump sum in back taxes from each Kiss in the country. They would register their members, both old and new, on a national database to make sure the vampire population was closely monitored, and would police themselves. There were many rules the vampires followed pertaining to their feeding habits. One rule concerned only willing of age donors, but now they could also purchase donated, human blood. Imagine, blood banks allowing withdrawals. I was sure there were other perks because the Sovereigns were very pleased with their lot right now.

  “Hi Lance, it’s Cassandra.”

  “Hello Cassandra. How are you doing?”

  “Fine thanks. I was wondering if you could give a message to Aram for me.”

  “I can, but he should have awoken for the night. I can always just put you through.”

  “No Lance,” I said quickly, trying to avoid a lengthy conversation with Aram that would tax my phone bill. “Can you just take him a message?”

  “Okay.” I could hear the shuffling sound of papers. “I have paper to write on, continue.”

  “Please tell him that I’d like to talk to him. I’m going to take a nap. He should know how to reach me.”

  “I’m sure he will. Anything else?”

  “Nope that’s it. Thanks Lance. Have a good evening.”

  I hung up the phone, wriggled out of my jeans and snuggled under my blankets, letting my eyes flutter shut. When I opened them, I was dreaming. I was still in my bed, but it floated in a tide of sunset colored shimmering and I knew I was not alone. I rolled over to face Aram, his hair sexily sleep tousled and pale chest bare. His eyes, a clear, compelling hazel, watched me with admiration.

  I peeked under the covers to check I was still dressed. I was, but in silky, lacy lingerie. It was pale lavender and very nice on, but made me sigh with exasperation.

  “Aram? Really? Couldn’t you have just sat us on a park bench or something?” He smiled a very winsome, worldly smile.

  “You’d look very out of place on a bench in that pet. I thought perhaps a little pillow talk would be more to your tastes.”

  “I didn’t dr
ess me. I don’t own anything remotely like this, so I have no frame of reference.”

  “More’s the pity. I can see that you truly did just want to talk. What do you wish to discuss pet?” He pulled up the covers to admire the sateen creation before I whacked them back down. He sighed. “It is the briefest glimpse of heaven, only to be denied.”

  “Can we please put your libido on a back burner? I’ve been having a really bad day.” Aram’s handsome face softened into understanding. He wrapped his arms gently around me and held me against his chest.

  “Tell me what is wrong my darling, I shall listen.”

  “Well I’ve gotten some gifts.”

  “They are not from me. I have been doing as you asked.” I looked up at his face. It was a mix of defense because he thought I was going to accuse him, and anger because someone else was sending me gifts.

  “I knew they weren’t from you, one, because they weren’t signed and two, because the notes were vaguely threatening.” Aram looked a little puzzled. “I’m being stalked.” His brow got even more troubled.

  “I do not believe I understand the modern usage. You are not a deer. You are not being hunted.”

  “A stalker is a person who harasses someone else, as an ex or a famous person, and so on. They’re usually aggressive, threatening and go about things in an illegal manner.” Aram thought about that as he stroked my hair.

  “Some man, which you do not know, is obsessed by you and sends you gifts with threatening messages.”

  “And he’s been watching me!”

  “Why did you no tell me about this sooner?”

  He cupped my chin with his fingers and lifted it up so I looked into his eyes. His eyes became a forest, and in them I could see myself as a deer, running desperately for safety.