Damien stepped forward, opening the door and holding it for Fred. What an odd reflex, he thought. They both stepped through the doors of the 13th Precinct of the Windcrest Police Department. The department was situated on the northern side of the city. This just so happened to be the oldest section of the city, evident by the massive stone buildings and high defensible walls surrounding everything. The station was built to outlast the lives of mortals and could withstand a siege, as long as you did not mind surviving on day old coffee and pastries.

  Damien made his way through the lobby area of the precinct and pulled his credentials from his inside jacket pocket, unfurling the lanyard. He stepped up to the turnstiles and pressed the badge to the purple void rock sensor until he heard a faint beep. The turnstile dropped downward allowing him to walk over the weight sensor onto the main floor of the department.

  Damien made his way up a set of stairs to the 5th floor and through the winding series of desks that made up the homicide department until he reached Head Detective Morchon’s office. He started to make his way toward the closed door when a sweet voice interrupted him.

  “He’s naht in theya.” The voice had the unmistakable accent of Halite. The city was located on the west coast of Fenwrath far south of Windcrest, and its people were known for not using all their R’s.

  “Sally …my darling. Gorgeous as the setting sun,” Damien turned his attention to the Halfling woman sitting at the desk outside of Detective Morchon’s office. The plump Halfling was dressed in a deep brown pantsuit with a green button-down that was fighting for everything it had to contain her voluptuous chest. Sally continued to type away at the keyboard in front of her. She was focused on her work though she did grin at him. “When are you going to bless me with the pleasure of your company? I would be good to you.” Damien placed both hands on her desk and leaned down toward where she sat. Fred rolled his eyes.

  “Mista Damien, you’re naht my type. I like ‘em tawlah than you,” she said winking and flicking a wave over at a particularly hulking Orcish officer, his uniform straining against the muscles in his arms. He turned a darker shade of green and started hitting the printer in an effort to make it print faster before scurrying away. She pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose.

  Damien relented, raising his hands. “You’re right, as always. Would you be so kind as to tell me where I can find his Majesty?”

  “Down in tha morgue. Whehre you should be. They was waitin for you and your giral, but you nevah showed.”

  Damien had started in the direction of the morgue but stopped at the mention of Edi. It was not like her to avoid showing up for work. Or even being late. He remembered a stressful evening when they had tickets to a showing of “The Heroes of Fenwrath” at the local theater. She had pressured him to arrive two hours early only to be forced to wait outside in the rain.

  “Edi never came in?” Damien turned to Fred, “When did she leave this morning?”

  “Little over an hour before you woke up.”

  Sally looked from Damien to what she would see as an empty space he was talking to. She shook her head and pushed her glasses up on her nose again.

  Edi would have had plenty of time to arrive here and hand over her reports to Morchon. Damien missed whatever flirtatious comment Sally said to him as he stomped toward the morgue.

  Damien wound his way down the stairs to the morgue. He could almost see his breath in the chilly air as he moved down the final steps into the basement of the precinct. The basement was split into three sections. A back entrance to drop off bodies, a storage area for equipment, and the cadaver processing area.

  Damien moved toward the set of double doors that led to the cadaver processing area. He placed a hand on the door, but before he could push the it open, he felt something. The air was thick with the familiar thrum of magic. Damien felt a twinge in his teeth.

  Someone was using necromancy here. Damien glanced at Fred who raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Had they … replaced him? Damien forced the doors open and trudged through. Immediately he was hit by the power emanating throughout the room. Swirls of purple mist drifted lazily off a table near the center where he saw Detective Morchon and Satish accompanied by the head coroner Lorlen Dorthrumal. Lorlen was a balding human man in his mid-forties. He had no problem hiring Edi as his assistant and that was enough to make Damien like the man. All three of them turned to Damien as he entered.

  “Sorry. Am I interrupt-—” Damien started to walk up and paused. A woman glided forward from behind Detective Morchon’s hulking form. Her stark white hair fell around her shoulders in waves. Her eyes were dark brown with a twisting ring of purple around the iris.

  “Little Monster!” she said excitedly. Alara waved a hand and the body of the tiefling man fell onto the table with a heavy thump. She chuckled.

  Damien squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to force himself awake. This had to be a dream. He had been released. Allowed to leave. He immediately felt sick as she stepped forward.

  “Damien, glad you could join us.” Detective Morchon rolled his eyes. “We will not be needing your assistance today.” He waved a thick hand to Alara. “The O.S.A. sent us a replacement. Next time show up on time and you won’t miss a paycheck.”

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Damien snapped his eyes open. “The O.S.A.? She do—”

  “Apparently, they are a bit short staffed lately. They sent me to fill in some gaps that were left by your investigation last night,” Alara smiled seductively. Damien felt those teeth graze the side of his neck.

  “This is the woman selling Essence to Sam?” Fred swirled up to Alara. Her eyes snapped over to leer at him. Fred flicked backward away from her gaze.

  “What is a Sam? And who is your little friend, Damien?” Alara said. She focused her eyes on Damien again. Beautiful eyes. The sick feeling left his stomach. He was suddenly preoccupied by the smoothness of her porcelain skin. The curve of her smile. What did those lips taste like?

  No!

  Fuck!

  Not this again. He screamed his thoughts, clenching his eyes shut. Damien focused on the bit of abjuration magic embedded in the back of his mind. A wave of nausea flooded through him as the magic took hold. As the abjurative locks clicked into place in his head, Alara’s influence faded. It took everything he had to keep the contents of his stomach from becoming the custodian’s problem.

  An involuntary part of Damien’s mind melted. Alara’s magic was a subtle art. She could manipulate emotions. Good to know the locks were still working, he thought. It would not last long, but for now he would be okay.

  Alara raised her eyebrows, and her smile turned into a twisted grin. Fred retreated across the room closer to Satish and Dr. Dorthrumal. Silence filled the space between all of them. Leo and Satish could tell something was going on between them.

  Leo broke the silence once more. Through narrowed eyes he said, “As I said, Miss Penieth was quite thorough with her questioning. You won’t be needed, Damien.”

  Penieth. Constance Penieth was an alias Alara used. Was she hiding? With a serial killer on the loose and Alara here there were beginning to be too many coincidences. Fred was not wrong about the Inquisition’s storied past. It would not be outside the realm of possibility that this killer had something to do with a larger plot involving the Inquisition. Damien slowed his thoughts and his breathing. Assumptions were the death of reason.

  Damien approached Alara and held out his hand. “Miss … Penieth, was it? Lovely name. Though I can’t say I have ever heard it before. How do you know me?”

  “The name runs in the family. As for knowing you. You’re quite popular within the O.S.A. Everyone just loves talking about you.” She smiled again and Damien could see the doctor practically drooling. He felt his own mental wards cracking. It would seem she had gotten better at this. Damien’s attention was drawn back to the delicate curve of her neck. The dress she wore was of an eastern style. Elvish made. It was a deep black cinched at the waste with a neckline made of intricate lace twisted into roses. The lace of the neckline covered her chest all the way up to a collar of material around her neck. Damien wondered what the lace felt like in his hands.

  He shook his head again. “Fred is an associate of mine.”

  “Who?” she said.

  “Fred … my associate,” Damien said gesturing toward Fred over near the doctor. Alara’s attention turned to him.

  “Oh! Right! How could I forget?” She glided across the tile toward Fred and began to inspect him. Damien thanked the Gods for the mental reprieve.

  “He came into my service a couple of years ago.”

  “Into your service? How friendly you are with them. Aw … it looks like a tragic one.” Fred looked utterly uncomfortable and uncharacteristically silent as he floated much taller than Alara.

  “Well, this is my cue to leave,” Leo interrupted, “Doctor, you have your marching orders. I need that recording filed as soon as possible. Satish you are going to run down the names we got.”

  The doctor snapped his attention away from Alara’s backside and wiped his mouth. “Right yeah. Will do.”

  “What names?” Fred said, still keeping an eye on Alara.

  “What names?” Damien said to Leo.

  “Is that really how you work? Just repeating what it says?” Alara smirked. “How do you get anything done?”

  “This is beginning to get a bit awkward with the two of you talking to the air. Have a good day.” Leo moved from the table and made his way from the room.

  Satish spoke with a low voice. She seemed just as affected by Alara’s presence as the rest of us. “Miss Penieth, please allow me to escort you out. I have a couple more questions for the report.”

  “Of course!” Alara began to move to the exit before stopping. “I would love to speak with you more Damien. The people at O.S.A. talk of you as if you are the second coming of Barasc.”

  Damien wasn’t sure if being compared to the God of Death was a good or a bad thing. Alara continued out of the room. Satish gave Damien a small wave as she followed, leaving Damien, Fred, and Dr. Dorthrumal staring at the door as it closed.

  “What an immaculate woman,” the doctor said. Both Fred and Damien stared at him. Both of them laughed. It was a much-needed break in the tension. “What? She is quite stunning.”

  “Doc, you don’t want any part of that.”

  “I think I want every part of that.”

  “Doc!”

  “A man has needs,” Dr. Dorthrumal said. He made his way over to the table with the tiefling man and tapped something on his bracer. A couple of seconds passed and a thin blue line of blue void rock embedded in the tile of the floor began to glow. The table with the tiefling man slowly began to move following the trail of blue void rock to a section of wall with refrigerators. The blue line led to one that was open.

  “What did they talk about?” Damien said.

  “I don’t believe you are privy to that information anymore. Sounds to me like your part of the job is done.” The table tapped the wall with a soft ping of metal. Dr. Dorthrumal moved to the table and tapped something else on his bracer causing the tabletop to hover slightly and move forward into the wall.

  Damien looked at Fred. Fred sighed and made his way over to where Dr. Dorthrumal had his back turned. He flickered for a second and then with a swish dove into the doctor’s back, possessing him.

  “What did they talk about?” Damien repeated.

  This time Dr. Dorthrumal turned around and spoke with Fred’s voice. “The tiefling’s name was Ismaith.” Fred started clicking through Dorthrumal’s bracer. “Ugh … his password is password who does that?”

  “Don’t get distracted.”

  Fred leveled a hazel-eyed stare at him. Damien raised his hands and backed off.

  “They don’t have anything of value. Ismaith had some ties to the mob. His daughter, Valgueth, was accepted into the Miryce Academy.” Fred always made it a habit to say the names of the lost. It was like he wanted to make sure that someone remembered them.

  “That doesn’t help us. Anything about who attacked them? Or the other two victims?”

  “They just mentioned seeing blue eyes. Cold eyes. Spirits are so unreliable.”

  Damien cocked his head at Fred.

  “Yes, I realize I am technically a spirit.”

  “Okay. As long as you know.”

  “They didn’t make it to the other two victims before we came in. Leo plans to hire that woman again to speak with them.” Fred paused for a moment. “Doesn’t look like anything else useful.”

  Damien’s bracer took that moment to ping. A message displayed on the screen as he tapped the display. It was from Edi’s bracer. His heart sank. An image appeared on the display. Edi tied to a chair, bleeding from her head. Another message pinged on the display with the words:

  She is safe.