by brett hicks
I somberly pored through the reports of murdered women as far back as I could find. All the while, I was wrestling with my inner demons.
Twenty-Two:
Visions of the past fluttered through my unconscious mind. Blackness, soullessness, abandoned of all humanity. Exiled thoughts from my most hopeless, and desperate hours cycled through my mind, tumbling around like a kaleidoscope of pain and torment. Simpering, mewing, and gargled incomprehensible sounds of insanity and desolate broken minds. The heavens of my world were sundered twain, and the demons flowed through the open wounds, festering and tainting everything.
The demons seared my flesh. They tormented my mind, as they attempted to enter my body. Soul-leeching unbearable agony was my universe, my cosmos and my everything. A single star of hope, of love, of mother, held the shattered girl from total and complete destruction.
Light, the only shard left to me, drove back the darkness and sealed the cracks in my defenses. Eyes wide open, I saw the blackness, the soulless dead eyes of the man who had sired me. I saw the hunger, the confounding puzzlement, he had expected to find purchase in me, escaping murder, yet something had dis-invited him. In the same process, it awakened me to the young sup I am. My magic flowed out as liquid fire. I cracked the husk of my mortal shell, protection most sup children have to keep them safe as children. I have seen the world with absolute vision ever since.
***
I shot up in my bed, covered in a cold sweat. I felt my gut churn as if I had drunk half the pub. I barely made it to a staggered run to the jax. I expelled the bitter bile of my evening and with it; I expelled the dream. The memories, the pain, they were like a stigma I carried. Nothing physical or magical had ever hurt the same as that spirit. I could experience a thousand years of torture, and it would never compare to what it embedded on me in mere seconds.
The truest terror is not the pain, but the gross violation of my inner self. I was slipping I felt the monster trying to overwrite me, removing my will, removing what made me, me. To look like Avery, but for the girl Avery to exist no more.
It did not take long after I saw the world in full view, for me to know what I was. I was his next host; I was born for him. He meant to be devour me. My powers were meant to become his. What I am, all that I have become, was never supposed to happen. I was an escaped prisoner. I was a loose thread in the community.
How does a girl let anyone into her orbit, when she knows she is nothing but a mistake? How can she trust again, when she was born for such a reason? How does anyone live with the etched memories of their brutalized mother, their crazed older sister, and their possessed father?
I retched again, coughed, and hacked. My throat was raw. I tasted the slight tang of coppery blood in my mouth. I leaned back against the wall and allowed the tears to come to me. Tears I had been holding back for so long.
My world was spinning out around me, and everything seemed to remind me of that night. I was in a waking nightmare. Something about this case shook the foundation of my metaphorical house.
“Avery? Lamb, what’s going on?”
I groaned lowly, and I looked up at my granny through watery eyes. She seemed concerned, and a lot more delicate in her expression than normal. This was not the first time she had walked in on me puking after a nightmare. Even the memory of the pain of that night could send me over the edge. I could see the layered sorrow in her expression. She tried to hide it from me, but she failed.
“It’s been a long time since you had an episode this bad. Do you need anything? Honey tea, perhaps?”
I weakly nodded, I did not enjoy being fussed over like an invalid, but right now I was still overwhelmed with the surge of memories of the night my father killed my mother and broke my sister’s mind. I just wept, and laid back against the wall, like it was my last lifeline tethering me to the planet.
Granny looked at me worried for a protracted moment. She seemed to hesitate to leave me, like it worried her I would crumble to nothingness in her absence. I believe she felt deeply guilty, for my mum marrying my dad. She could not protect her child, so she was very careful with me, the last vestige of our family.
I would like to believe Becky was still alive somewhere, but even if she was, she was madder than my father. Gran and I are two highly dominant females sharing a house, so we bicker, and we fuss, but our depths of love and devotion to one another cannot be quantified in any measurement known to man or fae.
She hummed a tune, it sounded like “Molly Malone.” She loved the old Irish folk songs, she could sing beautifully, but she only ever let me hear her songs. Granny used them to sooth me to sleep when I was younger, and the trauma was fresher.
Slowly, the warmth and rapture of the familiar song and the nearness of my last blood-kin, seemed to sooth my wounded soul. Gran returned a few minutes later carrying hot tea with honey. She delicately handed it to me.
The honey soothed the soreness and rawness of my throat. After a few more minutes, the episode past me.
“Feck, me…”
I croaked a few minutes later. I looked up at her with apology etched in my features.
“Sorry, granny. Go on back to bed, it’s late.”
She sniffed once and snipped warmly, “As if I’m gonna let a sprout rush me off to my bedroom. Ye just need to learn how to accept help with grace my dear.”
She chided lightly, but there was no bite to her words. I managed a weak, knowing smile, and we just stared at each other for a long moment. Words did not always convey the depths of family members bond. Blood spoke, and it resonated through us long after the ones we loved passed. This is how I kept my mum alive in my work, in the deeds I committed my life towards.
“Thanks, Old Hag.”
I said, in a rough, but sarcastic tone. Granny raised her nose higher at the name, but I must have looked worse than I felt, because she did not chomp on the chum, I provided her.
***
I dozed off to sleep for about two more hours on the couch. My phone rang loudly, and I practically did a flip off the sofa as I woke startled. I quickly scooped up the cell.
“Ello?”
I greeted drowsily.
“Hey, get your pretty little bottom down here! We have a fresh one!”
Jimmy said into the line and I felt chills run up my back at the mention of my bottom.
“Is that any way to greet yer partner when she’s been sleeping?!”
I roared at him groggily, and I heard him shout something distantly, and I heard the phone go distant and static filled the line for several moments, accompanied with a thumping sound.
“Hey there sweet cheeks, that fucking Social Media fecker killed again, so get your prize-winning tail down here! You can flirt with Jimmy later!”
Sorcha chirped into the phone, and I growled at it disconnected.
“She didn’t even fecking say where to go. Bloody fairies!”
Gran trot past me, and she grinned and nodded in agreement.
“Morning, such as it is, my dear. Been telling ya all along that fairies are devils! Well, except that one you brought home. Nice she was. You tell her I’ll make a nice Shepard’s pie fer ye lot. Besides, you need to introduce me to the new man in your life, girl.”
Gran wiggled her brows suggestively, and I groaned and muttered to myself, “Too fecking early, too fecking dry for this! Coffee!”
I trotted into my room hotly and snatched my brush. I ran it through my dark brown hair a half-dozen times. Then I changed into a new pair of black dress trousers and a forest green dress shirt that brought out the green of my eyes. I then put on my black leather boots, which only mildly clashed with the otherwise office vibe I projected. I slid a small dirk into each boot in their hidden compartments at the back. Then I strapped my holster and my badge onto my waist. I snatched my keys, purse and tucked away some ground mistletoe and silver shavings, just in case.
***
Thankfully, the one person at the crime scene who I knew I could trust, answered th
e phone.
“Reline here, how can I help ye Detective Garda, Parker?”
She chirped brightly, and I turned my ignition and my car roared to life in the same moment.
“Uh, Reline, you mind giving me directions to the new murder site? My colleagues failed to mention where it was, only THAT it had happened.”
Reline sniggered in a bright chirpy tone.
“I could see how that might cause you some trouble, ma’am. Just off the Liffey, two miles east of the previous. You’ll see the flashes of blue long before you hit us, miss.”
I smiled to no one at all.
“Reline, you’re a bloody goddess, and I mean that!”
I said with thanks, since it was not smart to thank a vampire any more than it was smart to thank a fairy. Reline seemed to beam through the phone none-the-less.
“Aw, ma’am I knew we were gonna get on brilliantly!”
She said excitedly, and I shook my head as I disconnected the line with the spastic and friendly vampire. She was just murdering her species street cred anywhere she walked! I am surprised the gloomy and broody lot did not have her taken out for sparkling too bloody brilliantly in their general direction!
My heard thumped in anticipation as I raced off to the crime scene. Right about now I wished I had one of those smaller single blue lights that you would see coppers stick on the roof of their personal car, when they had to hurry to a scene in the old movies.
I wanted to check my media, to see if he had blasted the scene again, but I opted to keep my hands firmly on the wheel. No need to test how immortal my body truly was, not yet anyway!
I felt the ink swirling under my skin. My magiks were buzzing with the latent energy I kicked off when I was gagging for a good fight. I have not even seen the body, nor confirmed it is my killer, but I already want to punch him! And people wonder why coppers have to learn how to pull themselves back from the ledge over the years! We get wound up over blokes committing crimes.
Sure enough, I pulled up along the Liffey and I spotted the mass of blue flashing lights. It was on the northern bank, but it was still close to the central Dublin hub. That told me that this killer was a native, and this was his home court. That also told me, like other famous killers, he fancied a particular location, for reasons I have yet to determine.
Sorcha and Reline greeted me as I opened my door. I fortified myself, as we stepped closer to the scene of the grizzly crime.
Twenty-Three:
DI Templeton was on the scene growling out orders and shouting for CSU techs to move their arses.
The bear was pissed, another murder on his patch. This one, he had to doctor the results. All of us knew this, because it was too obvious that the perp was inhumanly strong. A good solicitor would argue that no human could make such damage with bare fists. The ursine was livid, because he would have to settle this one off the books, if we settled it at all! Like any good DI, I have no doubts he loathed to do so. He wanted to ensure the public of their safety, and to bring the perp to justice, as did we all.
“Get the press back before I give them something to write about!”
DI Templeton snarled in a feral tone that no one sane would question. Sorcha calmly walked up to him, and she placed her palm on his right arm. Several of the uni’s cringed, almost expecting a claw to burst from his skin and there to be a third dead girl. Harry looked over at Sorcha, and his temperature dropped visibly, on the spot. I could see embarrassment playing on his eyes and cheeks.
“She’s a man whisperer, don’t ya think?”
Reline said to me in a hushed tone too low for the ursine to hear. I tipped my head in agreement.
“Do they have a thing?”
I whispered and Reline looked around and made a silencing motion with her hand.
“Yeah, never say that! You never know what sect of… baddies… might overhear yah!”
Her worried eyes scanned the crowed, as if trying to gauge if anyone had been listening in on our conversation. I frowned, and I shrugged it off. I was supposed to be normal to Reline, at least for now.
“Let’s go have a look at the body. Well, I mean me. You can stay back if the blood is too much fer you.”
I almost cringed after the words crossed my lips.
“Just don’t know what yer constitution is like, not trying to sell ye short, Reline.”
I blabbed to cover my ass, and I felt guilty as hell! Reline was super sweet to me, and vampire aside, she appeared to be one of the most decent women I had met in my life. I wanted to be friends with her, so I would just have to take the leap.
I grabbed her arm, and I pushed just a trace of magiks through our touch. She stiffened up at the contact for a moment, but she gave me a “duh” expression.
“I’m not daft like yer partner. Feral druid prince cannot tell that a powerhouse is standing next to him. Vampires are far more perceptive on such matters. I was sure you would tell me the truth in your own time, and I am touched it was this fast.”
Reline said, and her tone was low enough to be unheard by others, and her pitch was still friendly. She was not upset, and apparently, I needed to take a few acting classes if I wanted to fool anyone.
“Fer the record, you’re the third person I have told ever. Top three, not too shabby, eh?”
I said through a forced smile, and I kicked at a loss rock. We walked closer to the body.
“A vampire takes what she can get, yeah?”
***
There was nothing human left in this man. I had to assume the suspect was a man at this point. The modus was the same, but the choice of weapon was different. The despicable evil bastard had beat her to a pulp, bursting her body with what appeared to be bare hands. He beat on her like a punching bag, as if she were Rocky in that old film.
No human hands could have broken her so thoroughly. No impact man made would have done this. I could finally see the exact reason for my ursine boss flipping his primal switch. This crime was so brutal, it made his first appear positively tame by comparison.
“Have we managed to ID the vic?”
I asked Reline, she shook her head in a wide “no.”
“The perp appears to have emptied her pockets, and we found no purse. He posted another social media blast at the time of death.”
I fished into my purse and scooped my smartphone free of the purse monster. I swiped my phone open, an alert greeted me I had a new tweet.
The killer wore all black. He had a balaclava covering his face. Shadows hid his eyes, but I could at least make out the pale tone of a Caucasian man. He stood over the pulverized girl making a peace sign. He was tall and built like a man who has a full gym membership.
“That tweet hit all of Dublin about forty-three minutes ago. Again, it was untraceable, and we have yet to figure out how he has blasted all media. He is not friended or followed by anyone, and this account differed from the first.”
I frowned at this information. I didn’t fancy myself a cyber expert, so I would have to visit the mothership—AKA cybercrime.
“Any CCTV of this area? Witnesses?”
I asked, and Jimmy prowled over with a grim expression.
“I would say he chose this portion of the river, because the cameras are down. Every thug this side of Dublin knows that, so crime in these pockets has been on the rise lately.”
Jimmy told me, which was helpful since I recently returned to the city.
“So, no CCTV, and no witnesses. He also bothered to relieve the victim of all her identity. That shows a level of care to evade detection, along with the balaclava. He is not looking for a showdown, he is taunting us and desires attention, but he wants to be free to kill again.”
I surmised from the data points left to us by the killer. Jimmy nodded grimly.
“Aye, my gut tells me this lad is barely beginning. Bloke fancies himself the Twitter Ripper. He is a textbook case of such a persona.”
Reline cringed slightly at the comparison.
“I don’t l
ike it when people fling that reference out lightly. This bloke is naught like the Ripper. The Ripper had a masterful understanding of anatomy. This git just uses excessive brute force and rips women to pieces.”
I frowned at them, and I looked at Reline.
“I am reading two distinctively different personas in this killer. The rage and blackout violence of a spree killer, and the care and craftiness of a serial in complete control.”
I explained, and Sorcha walked over with Harry in toe.
“I am with ye on this one, Detective Parker. This is a crime of a person at odds with himself. It reads as a split persona, but I would rather focus on any trace we can get, that will lead us to this bloke. I do not want to visit a third murder site.”
His eyes flashed bright red for a moment, telling us all just how angry that prospect made him. I almost pitied the killer, because he was now being pursued by an enraged ursine with an entire station under his authority.
“Well, we need to figure out who the vic is, then we can trace her movements throughout the night.”
I said, and Jimmy grunted in agreement.
“We ran her prints, but she is not in the system. We are comparing samples of her DNA, but we are coming up with nothing. The killer destroyed her teeth in his assault. He also pulverized the skull, making an anthropological reconstruction very difficult.”
Jimmy explained further.
“We need to finish taking samples, then wait for the post-mortem. With any luck, she will have some implant or other distinctive procedure.”
Sorcha said, and I shook my head.
“I would highly doubt that, considering at a glance, she cannot be close to thirty. Mangled as she is, I can see the full vigor of youth in her.”
I said, and Sorcha interjected, “Besides, no one over thirty usually shops at Forever Twenty-One.”