Obsession

Series “
Nocturnal
”
episode #5

Translation
from Italian to English
by
Carmelo Massimo Tidona
for
Zed
Lab
http://www.quellidized.it/zedlab

www.quellidized.it

www.0111edizioni.com

www.quellidized.it

OSSESSION
Copyright © 2014
Zerounoundici Edizioni
Copyright © 2014
Carmelo Massimo Tidona
ISBN:
978-88-6578-284-2
Cover:
image courtesy of
Victor Habbick /
FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Work autonomously proposed by the author, not submitted to selection from the publisher

Obsession

When Sylke opened his eyes, the light in his room made him understand that the sun was still visible in the sky.

Since he had currently no job, he preferred to sleep during the day, but after some time it became clear to him that he would not fall asleep again, so he decided to get up.

With his eyes half-closed, he walked to the kitchen and opened his cupboard, finding himself staring in empty space. He stuck a hand in anyway, hoping to find something that had eluded his eyes, and when he pulled it out he was holding some cheese which colour didn’t match any of the of the known hues of the visible spectrum.

He stared at it with a vacant expression, wondering whether a new population of microscopic sentient creatures was staring back at him from its surface, then he threw it away. He definitely had to hit a store.

He washed his face with cold water, brushed his teeth, and only after that he allowed himself to look in the mirror. His hair was too short to need combing. His face still looked freshly shaven, with the exception of the thin line of silver-grey beard following the curve of his jaw and circling his lips.

He decided he needed no further cares, so he walked to the wardrobe, wearing a full set of black clothing – socks, slacks, boots, shirt and gloves – covering almost every inch of his ash-grey skin.

Eventually, he went to the door and left the house, not without taking from a corner near the entrance a humble-looking roll of cloth. Once outside, he unrolled it in front of the door, revealing what looked like a green gym mat.

He sat on it crossing his legs, focused his mind on his destination, and soon after the mat became rigid and started flying in the twilight sky, pointing at the nearest supermarket.

He didn’t like to go shopping, and the state of his cupboard showed it beyond any doubt. Most of all, he didn’t like being among people. He was always under the impression that everybody was looking at him, as if he had stuck between his teeth some of that cheese he had carefully avoided to eat. He knew he wasn’t that different from rest of the varied local population, but this never sufficed to convince him that he could easily mingle with them without being noticed.

He started wandering among the shelves of the food department, without a precise target in mind. He grabbed without stopping a dark loaf in a transparent bag – he didn’t really know what it was, but he was reasonably sure it was something edible – and dropped it in his cart, then moved toward a pile of interesting-looking boxes.

Around him he could hear the typical chit-chat of the most different people, and the air was vibrating with the notes of some song he had never heard, while the ever present advertisement where being repeated softly.

“
Visit the new crystal department, just for today… Sylke!”

The telepathic words of the speaker mixed with the one coming from his communication crystal.

Recognizing the voice as that of detective Lars Seymourn, and perceiving some urgency in his tone, he didn’t let him call again before answering.

“
I’m here, what’s up?”

“
Could you come to the precinct?”

“
I am buying a few things” he answered while moving toward the counters. “I have to go back home first, but I can be there soon.”

“
Good. Come straight to homicides.”

“
Homicides?” he couldn’t help asking. Seymourn never hesitated to ask for his help when needed, but the head of homicides was known for disliking any kind of interference in investigations – that was how he called that – and it was really unusual for him to want him there... unless he wanted to accuse him of something.

Meanwhile, he had started handing his purchases to the cashier – a heavily made-up gnome lady who luckily must have noticed that he was engaged in a conversation, and hadn’t started chatting – who was looking at them with a critical expression before putting them in a bag.

“
Yes, you’re needed there. I’ll explain when you’re here.”

“
Fine. See you soon.”

He closed the contact and leaned forward, letting dangle the small crystal obelisk tied to his neck. The gnome barely touched it with a wand of the same material, transferring the cost of the goods, bared a complimentary smile and handed him his bag. Sylke slipped outside before she could think about saying anything.

* * *

Once inside the precinct, Sylke nodded in response to the greeting of the agent at the reception counter, an ebony-skinned woman he had seen hundreds of times but whose name he didn’t know.

Seymourne intercepted him on the door of the Homicide Department, and motioned for him to follow to a room closed by a glass-panelled door, where the head of the department was waiting for him. A tall, slim man who must have had some kind of reptile among his ancestors.

«Captain,this is Sylke. Sylke, captain Throll, head of the Homicide Department» he introduced them to each other without emphasis.

The two simply nodded. They knew each other by sight and reputation, but they had never talked, and apparently weren’t going to start. None of them tried to shake the other’s hand.

Finally, Throll broke the silence. «Detective Seymourne describes you as trustworthy» he said in a brusque and less than condescending tone.

Sylke shrugged. «If he says so...»

«We are dealing with something that requires maximum secrecy» the captain went on. «Nothing you will say or hear must leak out of this building.»

«Even if I wanted to tell someone about my job, I wouldn’t know who to» he replied dryly, earning a sideway glare from the policeman.

Then Throll started walking, gesturing for the others to follow.

Soon it became clear that they were going towards the morgue, a place that was much more familiar to Sylke then the upper floors.

He almost always carried out his job on the crime scenes, both because time could be a crucial factor and because he wasn’t exactly appreciated at the precinct. At times, though, some overzealous cops had taken away the bodies before his arrival, forcing him to go to the morgue to carry out his duty.

He was led to the wide wall at the end of the room, where Throll himself pulled out one of the drawers used to store the victims, pointing at its guest.

«This is the first» was his only remark.

Sylke looked at the body. It was human, or at least it had been, and it must have suffered unspeakable torments, judging from the look of what was left. Eyelids were completely missing, the whole body showed signs of torture, and the lips where lined with little red dots. He put a finger next to them, careful not to touch them even though he still had gloves.

«His mouth... had been sewn?» he hazarded.

Throll nodded gloomily. Sylke sighed. It wasn’t really sure he wanted to know more than that about that story, but he didn’t have much choice. Sure, he could always deny the job and definitively compromise his relationship with the Homicide Department. He didn’t know which of the two possibilities was less alluring.

Most of all, there was a chance that too much time had passed after the death for him to be able to see something. Preservation spells prevented decay, but they didn’t affect in any way the effects of his power.

He slowly pulled off his right glove, and gently placed two fingers on the corpse forehead. He was immediately flung in another time and place, finding himself seeing, hearing, feeling all that the poor wretch had seen in the last moments of his life.

He was sitting on a cold, maybe metallic chair. He could feel ropes around his wrists, stuck behind his back, and from the pain he felt he understood that his eyelids had already been cut away, his lips already tortured with thread and needle. He wondered whether he had been awake meanwhile, but there was no way he could know. Memories, emotions, thoughts where precluded to him, he could only behold. And not even much, in this occasion. The deterioration must have started already, because it seemed clear that death was coming soon.

He was in an empty, nondescript room. He couldn’t see anyone there with him. He had no way to change his point of view, he couldn’t look around, and he realized that not even the victim had, although he couldn’t figure out why.

Then he heard a voice whispering in his hear, «Wanna play?», and he saw a blade appear in front of his eyes. An unusual blade, glazed and opaque, with no reflections. He saw it go down, felt it cut his throat. After a second, even though many minutes had passed in his subjective time, he was back to his senses.

The state of the second victim, another human, wasn’t too different. No eyelids, traces of sewing on the lips, signs of torture on the whole body.

The death of this one was more recent, and the deterioration less advanced, but this only allowed Sylke to attend to many of the tortures. At least he was able to partly detach himself from the pain they caused. He never saw the killer, and only once he heard him talk, this time a little before the death stroke. «I’m here for you» he whispered.