Blood & Magic (15 page)

“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 make 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.

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.”

“Can we take a look at your CCTV footage?”

“You want to see footage from this week, don't you?”

“Is that a problem?” Dimitri said.

“We have problems with computer yesterday. Our footage hasn't saved been saving properly,” the woman said.

What a coincidence.

Alex and Dimitri made their thanks and left the restaurant. It had just started to rain, the kind of drizzle that soaks your clothes, but that feels too insignificant to shelter from.

“Betting the computer problems were no accident,” Dimitri said, lighting a cigarette.

“That's a terrible habit you know?” Alex said.

“You my doctor now?”

“Guessing the government are behind it, they are thorough if anything.”

“Probably means all CCTV around here is going to be a goner.”

“We could try broadening our search, start going around businesses a little further out? I wonder why was our victim is of such interest to the spooks? It has to be related to why he stabbed himself.”

“If he thought he was going to be killed, surely he was better of taking a chance and fighting the killer, rather than just giving up.”

“Perhaps he couldn't face any more torture, if the killer was holding him.”

“She said he was in and out of this restaurant every night of the week, so he can't have been held at the house. Makes no sense, especially when you think about the old wounds, means he came into the restaurant with them, paying for dinner, but not treating his injuries,” Dimitri said.

“You're right, doesn't make sense. What if he knew something that was so dangerous, he couldn't risk it getting out in the open, or the killer finding out. Faced with being captured or tortured, he decides to commit suicide and, that way, stop whatever he found out from being discovered,” Alex said.

“Christ, we are jumping straight into the conspiracy theories now babe.”

“For the sake of the case, I hope I'm not.”

At five o'clock, Alex and Dimitri parted, Alex returning to her flat. Hopping around the hallway, she tugged off her boots and headed into the kitchen, throwing a meal in the microwave.

She and Dimitri had found next to nothing during the rest of the day. A surprisingly large number of businesses had suffered ‘technical difficulties’ with their CCTV equipment, which meant that the journey the victim had taken was next to impossible to determine.

Alex had just about given up hope when they found a little optometrist's by Farringdon station. They had a CCTV system at the back of the shop of surprisingly high quality, and reviewing the footage, they had found him. At approximately five o’clock every day of that week, they could just make out the blurry image of the victim leaving the station, his long coat and flop of black hair giving him away every time. Tracking him on the tube would require access to TFL records, which would be impossible to get without giving away what Dimitri and her were really working on.

The microwave gave an angry beep and Alex slopped her dinner onto a plate, wedging the case files under one elbow as she balanced a bottle of wine, the plate and a wine glass, in the other hand.

She flung the files across the coffee table, which landed awkwardly as their contents spilled across the floor. Alex huffed at the mess she had made and, putting the plate and glass down, she grabbed her phone and sunk into the sofa.

“Hi Alex,” Chris said, answering her call almost immediately.

“Sorry for ringing so late, I hope you don’t mind?”

“Not at all, what can I do you for?”

“It’s about the Greys Inn murders, I-”

“Alex, we can’t talk about that. You heard, it has-”

“Been officially handed over to the intelligence services, I know. This is off the record. I just have a few questions, nothing official.”

The line was quiet for a moment.

“What do you want to know?” Chris said.

“Are you sure some of the injuries were old?”

“Definitely.”

“And they would have made it difficult for him to move?”

“Yes, he had several to his leg that would have meant he walked with a pronounced limp. Also, I spotted severe bruising to his back which would have meant he was in severe pain. Why do you want to know?”

“The victim was spotted having dinner, walking about perfectly fine about an hour before he was killed.”

“That must be wrong, that is impossible.”

Alex was starting to think so too.

“Chris, is there anything you haven’t already told me?”

“There were footprints this time, which is different to all the rest. Difficult to tell the exact size, but I would have said about a ten.”

“Another confirmation it is a man.”

“I would say so.”

“Where were they found?”

“They were inconsistent, scattered from one side of the field to the other. I’m not sure how they could have jumped from place to place without leaving a mark, but that’s not something we had time to look into before… you know.”

Well, that sounded strange. Maybe the ground was too dry in some parts, what other explanation could there be?

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“And sorry for the way I spoke to you the other day. It wasn’t right, I was angry, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“I understand, speak to you soon.”

Alex tucked into her dinner and opened the first CCTV file Drew had given her to look through. Not exactly the movie and dinner combination she liked, but it would do.

If this was all some government conspiracy, then they would never bring any closure to the case. But, if that were true, why did they not take the serial killings from them entirely? Something felt wrong about it all at such a fundamental level. Wounds that healed too fast, summoning enough strength to break a metal lock, a killer with the ability to leap from one place to the next with little trace, the exploding lights... What was she getting involved with?

Half a bottle of wine and three quarters of an all too salty ready meal later, Alex’s eyes were going square. She was only a fraction of the way through the tapes, the reality of just how long a weekend she had before her was starting to become apparent. Alex’s phone beeped.

Working late tonight. Sorry, Charlie Xx

Working late
again
. The fact he wasn’t home should probably have made a more noticeable impression on her, most women would likely be concerned their partner was cheating on them, but Alex wasn’t. She trusted him, she always had. He wouldn’t cheat on her, he wasn’t like that. Other women might be upset he had to work late and they wouldn’t see him, but again, Alex wasn’t. What did that say about their relationship? Alex didn’t want to think.