That bastard...he did something to Elima! What the fuck do I do?!
“Fuck...fuck!!! FUCK!!!” I scream, punching the wall with all my might. I immediately regret it, feeling the bones of my knuckles stinging hard.
Deep breaths Edward, deep breaths.
I need to go to Lowe.
The interrogation room, fully white and well lit up, now feels like a prison. Lowe stares at me, curious and intrigued by my panicked expression as she sits down her side of the table, crossing her arms.
“What’s going on?” She asks, clearing her throat right after.
“I need your help,” I set down everything on the desk, “the guy who killed Claire Eisern. She went for my assistant. She’s gone, the killer left me a message.”
“What? Your assistant is Elima Rondart, isn’t she?” She asks.
“Yes, she’s-”
“Her parents filed a missing persons report already. She disappeared. How does that tie to Claire’s killer?”
“Elima and I were close, the killer gave me...this.”
I push Claire’s diary towards Lowe.
“Go to the last pages, before her death. I was sent this to my office. Someone broke in.”
She picks it up, looking surprised, “this is Claire’s? This diary wasn’t found when we searched her house.”
“The killer probably took it with him.
“Were you sent this?”
“Yes.”
“Why would the killer send you a piece of evidence that he removed from the crime scene?” She looks at me with narrow eyes.
“I don’t know. Just look at the last pages...it’s there. What I’m talking about is there.”
She reads the contents carefully, narrowing her eyes and shaking her head after a while, “this girl was crazy...”
“It’s not the point! Skip to the last page. The killer is talking to me.”
She does as I say, and she stares intently at the message. Her crimson eyes raise slightly towards me once more, filled with doubts.
“This is you? What is he talking about? Desires?”
“I have no idea...I don’t know anyone that could be interested in me and also be a killer,” I shake my head profusely, “listen...that blonde girl with the red tint at the ends of her hair, I saw her. I can give you a sketch. This could be an accomplice of Claire’s killer. She visited my house this morning, before I went to my office and I found the diary.”
“It’s a conjecture...at best.”
“What? Are you serious?!”
“Edward, give me a break…” Lowe groans, annoyed, “I can’t put up a manhunt over the delirious hunch of one of her victims.”
“I’m just telling you I saw that girl too! She passed by my apartment!” I retort, “Elima is in danger, we have to act.”
“Listen...this is out of my reach!” She raises her voice, taking a deep breath immediately after, calming back down, “look...I can’t tell you much, but this case is sensitive."
“I’m giving you the opportunity to have a face to search for a serial killer case, and you're refusing it? I also found some evidence from Claire’s doctor that-”
"Edward. Did you just say serial killer?"
I stare at her, feeling blood fading from my face.
"How the hell do you know about this case?!" She raises her voice.
“Lowe, I-”
“So this is why you asked me when Claire contacted the police,” she spits, glaring at me, “and it also explains why the hell the killer took your assistant and gave you that message. You’re messing with him...going against the law.”
“I gathered more than you and your detectives did in a couple of days! You’re on the wrong track. It’s not just a male perpetrator we’re searching for. We have to start from Elaine, because-”
“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to arrest you.”
“What…?”
“You clearly knew this case was classified and handed to the federal division. You’re basically confessing to a crime. This is a favor I am doing you as your supervisor...this stays in the concrete box we’re in right now. Your hunches are just conjecture.”
“They’re gonna wait until he kills more girls, this what you all Other Ones do.”
“So be it. I can’t risk getting reprimanded using your ‘extra’ illegally acquired evidence….which is nothing, anyways. You have nothing to give the federal division that’s tangible.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t want your image to be stained, right? You have to analyze the perpetrator psychologically and find them BEFORE they kill again.”
“Yes. That’s correct. Whatever you gathered is going to be a pain in the ass to send to the federal division, and I’m not being paid enough to deal with an impulsive human detective who thinks can figure out anything out of the schizophrenic blabbering of a mad woman.”
“So your salary and position are more important than the life of innocent young women? What if Elima has been taken hostage? Where is the help the police promised to the weak?”
“My job is to keep order for the great Empress...not to save lives. You put Elima in danger yourself by putting your nose where you shouldn’t have.”
I need a couple of seconds to register what Lowe just said. I gently grab my folder with all the evidence and Claire’s diary. I put everything into the inner pocket of my coat slowly.
“My father was a homicide detective of this department. He used to tell me that his job was to make people smile again after a tragedy…but he wished to be able to stop tragedies before they even happened.”
Lowe understands what I mean. Her pragmatic, cold gaze softening even just a little.
“If you walk out that door and do something stupid, you’ll be alone. Completely.”
“I was already alone, ‘partner’. I never spent a single second on the field with you.”
“Your foolish idealism will kill you. You could have spent the rest of your days taking cases and earning lots of money. Why are you even doing this? You’re risking your career.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
I walk around the table and head for the exit.
“You may be smarter, stronger, healthier and richer...”
“But what you’ll never understand as heartless species...is love.”
Back to my office, I stare at all I have. My finger taps on the desk rhythmically...I need to think of my next move. The cigarette on the other burns quickly, it’s my third this morning...I’m nervous.
The killer is playing with me. They sent me that message to ask me to chase them and ‘find’ Elima...they knew the police was going to push me away and try to shut me down. The most logical thing would be ignore him...and move on, like Lowe said. I have no power to stop this.
It’s all my fault…Lowe is right. I shouldn’t have poked this so hard. Elima has been targeted because of me.
But I won’t stop. I can’t. Elima was...she is important to me.
This fucker has to pay. I got nothing to lose other than my life.
“So, the police won’t help…” I mutter, “Errilk is going to back off when he knows I’m going against the feds…shit…”
Think, Edward. Think.
I have no more connections in Nochtarn, and I have none in Solemnia, of course.
I look at the copy of “The Blackened Theatre”...still on my desk, untouched.
This book...how does it even tie to the killer? Who wrote it?
It may be a way to start a new lead.
I read through the whole thing in one sitting, it’s 1:00 AM, I’m still in my office, lights on...I finished a pack of cigarettes.
The novel is pretty weird. It talks about this young man, who finds himself into a desolate place called “Lost Land”, where rain falls forever and everything is shrouded by a fog. There is a lost city, barren and completely overgrown...and other places like a forest, a mansion...a typical fantasy setting.
He suffers from amnesia, so he has no idea who he is. His initial goal is to find an exit, a way out. After exploring, this man meets various weird characters, who speak in riddles and make the story more and more confusing.
Then, at some point, he meets this girl...the White Maiden. A white-haired girl in a beautiful black dress, her azure eyes piercing his soul at first sight. He falls in love with her more and more, almost growing...obsessed. So much that he forgets about escaping the Lost Land and, instead, he chases her requited love.
The White Maiden accepts his love and reveals to him that, in truth, this world was made by her...and that she had been waiting for the arrival of the perfect companion for a long, long time.
The novel ends with them copulating and giving life to a newborn child, starting a life in that empty and sad world.
“Hmm…” I sigh, re-reading some specific passages, like the one that Claire marked.
The White Maiden came in the night, her dress darker than the void between stars, her eyes pale and gleaming like a sky that has never known the sun.
She did not speak, but I understood her.
She showed me things that should not be seen, things that burned my mind forever, changing me.
She whispered into my ear as we became one, asking me the same question.
“Do you love me?”
The writer is unknown. There is not signature, no publishing company I can go to...it’s just paper and leather. The killer sent me this book...I burned the one I had from Claire, for Elima, so there are multiple copies of them.
The White maiden herself sounds...not human. The protagonist describes her as otherworldly, perfect in all ways. A deity, maybe? I have no idea.
Just like the protagonist, Claire fell obsessed with the vision she had of The White Maiden.
A being who drives people mad out of the strongest and most poisonous emotions...love.
I wish I had more information about the previous victims...and Lila Berniech too.
If this is how the perpetrator lures their victims, it might be someone who purposely targets mentally ill individuals. I’d like to confirm this theory, though...I can’t be sure all the victims had visions like Claire.
I take another drag from my cigarette, looking at the smoke cloud that’s formed above my head.
I need to get some rest.
I want to find out more about this novel. I’ll go around and ask about it at the oldest bookstores I know.
Morning of the next day. 10:00 AM.
This is the third store I visit. The two previous ones didn’t know a thing about this book. I’m starting to lose hope.
I walk inside, and this one smells a bit stuffier, and it’s also very dark. Shelves make the small store even smaller. I walk through the maze, forward...and I look at the kind lady at the counter, an old woman with a soft smile.
“Welcome, sir.”
I flash my badge, even if I shouldn’t, “Detective Edward D’arbie. I’m here to ask a couple of questions about a book.”
She widens her eyes and grows stiffer, “sure, Detective. How may I help you?”
“Can you tell me anything about this book?” I ask her, handing the copy into her hands, “it has no name or publishing company. Can you help me out?”
“Hmm...let me have a look,” she starts leafing through the pages, checking with expertise all the details. that only someone like her could notice.
She gives me an odd look, almost as if something clicked in her mind as she grasps the copy.
“Someone came to this place a couple of months ago…” she rubs her chin, “and they asked about this exact book."
“Who? Can you tell me what they looked like?!” I lean against the counter eagerly.
“Uh, well...it was a very pretty and tall woman with crimson eyes...pale as ash. She was definitely an Other One. She had red hair, though."
What? A red-haired Other One? Other Ones are white-haired.
“Are you sure she didn’t have dyed hair?”
Just like Elaine?
“Probably...it must be,” she shrugs, “anyways...she asked about this book."
Who was she? It wasn’t Elaine...nor the male killer who raped the victims. A third accomplice?
The more I dig...the less it makes sense.
Is this an organized crime? Elaine proved me there are multiple people involved...and now this red-haired Other One joined the party.
"Are you two working together? She said she's a detective too.”
Interesting.
"No. Could you tell me what you told her."
She nods, “so...this book is weird. It has no signature, no publisher stamp, no thanks to any association…it’s...it’s not meant for the public, at all. The ink is of a standard typewriter, but it’s not an industrial ink that’s being used. I can tell because of the structure of the black color and it's shading. You won’t find anything like this in regular printing houses nowadays. This book wasn’t made for the world to see, Detective. It’s a personal work...something made for someone...or for themselves.”
“Then...why are multiple copies available?” I ask her.
“Hm…” she muses, closing the book softly, “that woman asked me the same thing. This is almost certainly something that has not been made for the public. The paper, the ink...I’m almost certain about it. But yes, it has multiple copies despite that. I wouldn’t take this old woman’s word too seriously...my mind could be making mistakes,” she adds, chuckling as she gives the book back.
I sigh, disappointed. Will the next bookstore know any more than she knew? I’m wasting my time…
“Thank you for your time,” I put the book back into my inner pocket, “have a nice day.”
“You too, Detective,” she smiles.
Once I’m outside, I sigh deeply...I’m disappointed.
What do I do next? I have no idea where to go now.
Should I just look into the other victims by myself? Maybe I can trace some info about them through the names. I still remember them, even if I burned the police data.
I start walking back to my car, lighting up another cigarette as I ponder.
When I stuff my hand into my pocket for the keys, something unexpected happens.
A girl approaches me, leaning against my own car without my consent.
Blonde, short. Her dress is skimpy and colorful...never seen anything like it. Is it a new trend?
“Who are you?” I ask her.
“I’m Lilin, mister. Nice to meet you,” she gives me her hand to shake.
“Uh…” I shake my head, “are you trying to sell yourself? I’m good.”
“Oh, how preposterous,” she giggles, crossing her arms and taking a step back, “I was just wondering what kind of book you bought.”
“Uhm...I bought nothing, actually. What I’m searching for is not here.”
“Hm...I see,” she nods, looking at my coat, “quite well-dressed, I might say.”
“Thank you…?” I put a hand on my car, “may I get into my car, miss?”
This girl, Lilin, doesn’t move at first. She tilts her head and smiles...her deep, blue eyes reflecting the faint light of the lamppost above us.
“Have you ever wished to fuck someone so badly that you’d destroy your entire life just to sleep with them?”
What the fuck? What kind of question is this?
“Miss, please leave me alone. I’m not interested in your body,” I gently grab her arm and pull her away from the door, quickly hurrying inside.
I look at the girl, she waves at me kindly as I turn the key.
What a weirdo...