The Wielder of Death Magic

“The explosion?”

“Yeah, I heard it was some rich guy’s car that exploded.”

“Rich guy or not, we can’t spare time to worry. Load the cargo will you?”

“LESS TALKIN’ MORE WALKIN\'”

“Sorry boss!”

Waves thrashed against moist dark rocks, nature’s natural port. An eyewatering sea aroma filled the air and touch which felt sticky and uncomfortable. God forbid the courageous, who, by sheer ignorance, wore baggy clothes to the wind-swept beach. Sun, sand, sea – clouds, rocks, and ocean, such laid the view before a lonesome man perched atop another cliff. The latter overlooked the sea, as for the main cliff that laid in the opposite direction, the scale greatened ten-fold – being perched as if a vampiric castle, though, the city walls were more fearsome than any Victorian-styled buildings. Smoke puffed. Igna threw his legs off the cliff and waited. Night settled – ships horned in the distance, the port worked d’arrache pied else, relentlessly – like ants, fulfilling their duties conditionally as opposed to unconditionally(like the ants).

.....

“They should be there,” he smirked.

Over the cliff, passed the untrailed forest path and rocky traps – at signs of mankind’s work, the wind follows a siren, one loud and impatient. Three bangs were reported. The officer in charge, the same fellow who took Igna’s report earlier, had his arms heavy with notepads and reports. The driver, another officer, one who made the rash comment, held his foot, “-emergency orders from the chief.”

“Yeah, I know,” gritted the driver, “-filter across the files.”

The scene seamlessly transitioned from the wreckage to buildings shy off the curb. Red in color and rectangular, the indented windows were about all the details it held. The amorous moon escaped for a flirtatious visit, it shared limited light against the setting sun, and the mixture birthed a nostalgic hue. Officers issued a perimeter, blocking off access to the building’s innards. Things didn’t look great from the sidelines. Considering the exalted place in town, many of the inhabitants frowned.

“Another incident?”

“Has the town gone to the dogs?”

“I tell you, we should have moved to Iqeavea, least there we ought to have our respect as nobles.”

“Nobility’s no longer important in Iqeavea, Alphia seems the better choice.”

“Shut up and look, they carry stretchers. My stomach cannot bear to see more deaths. We should meet the mayor, he has a duty towards us.”

“I should have known the place would be unsafe. To see our roads and buildings be tainted so easily by the common ruffians, I feel nauseated. Get my bags, we’re going,” a shared sentiment in the greater scheme of things.

The coroner’s car pulled onto the curb just behind the officers, “-what’s the matter again?” yawned the former, “-did we not close the affair earlier?”

The officers, driver and co-driver, exited their steed and threw firm handshakes, “-lord Tile.”

“Tile is fine,” he exhaled, “-to think we’d have more casualties this day. Have you heard from the chief?”

“Yes, the chief said to investigate and do our jobs properly.”

“Suppose it’s not an inside job?” he scratched his head with a bored demeanor, “-what happened here?”

Attending officers rushed to them, “-Lord Tile,” he stood silently.

“Paul, Janth,” hailed a man dressed in casual attire.

“Inspector.”

“Paul, my dear, you shouldn’t drive recklessly. As for Janth, might think of getting some bags,” the inspector motioned inside, “-lord Tile, if morbid curiosity begets thee, I suggest keeping silent.”

A single door opened; the hallways greatened inside with few officers. Some interviewed potential witnesses and others were kept watch.

“The place feels weird,” Janth commented, “-there’s a lingering scent of death, I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” the inspector nodded, “-a growing sense of fear,” he paused on the stairs and threw a hefty glance over his shoulder, “-I say it again, once one sees, it can never be unseen. I’m warning out of care, if I had known before, I wouldn’t have looked. Are we on the same page?”

“Drop the theatrics,” Tile sighed, “-yet another corpse, we have our share of deaths. Nothing’s going to change, nothing.”

“If the inspector says it’s bad,” Paul gulped, “-I think we should heed-”

“Let me go first then,” Tile shoveled forth, “-lead the way, inspector.” Words weren’t the only warnings. Recruits unfortunate to glance upon the room sprinted out. Others hurled, the scent of vomit, sweat, and blood hit, forcing crinkled brows and narrowed stares.

“What the fu-?”

“I know,” the inspector pulled his strength and walked, “-it’s bad.”

“We still don’t know what happened?”

“Three gunshots were reported after we left earlier,” they arrived at the door, or where a door might have been. Splinters and torn hinges thrust across the floor followed by the heavy smell of death. They entered a truly macabre scene. Paul stomach pulled, Janth’s jaw dropped and Tile’s hand trembled. Flashes blasted, ending on a high-pitched whistle, “-yeah, the gunshots weren’t the killing blow, far from it,” the walls were lined with specks of red, and even the ceiling had splatters. Three victims, one on a couch, another on his knee with the decapitated head placed on a counter, looking at its own body, as for the last, the torso was sliced open, guts and innards were splattered all over the room, the severed hand was posed in an okay sign and hammered against the back wall.

“Dear boss,” said simple calligraphic writing.

The inspector swallowed his nausea and moved to the first victim, one with the decapitated head, “-this here is Thomas Edow, a twenty-five-year-old retainer in the employment of the Jeshia household.”

“Demonic,” Tile shuddered, “-who in this world has the stomach to do such harm to another human,” he shook at the sight.

“I did say to be wary. Lord Tile, will you be, okay?”

“I will,” he inhaled, “-this isn’t a gang killing, it’s pure sadism. The man seems to have suffered a brutal and torturous death,” he scanned the premises.

“I concur,” narrowed the inspector, “-the killer made no attempts at hiding his trail inside the room. They were all shot in the legs, Edow here was unfortunate to be the first. Look at the couch,” he pointed, catching the room’s attention, “-ropes.”

“They were forced to watch... to watch their friend be tortured.”

“Yeah,” the inspector shivered. Tile called in his assistants, “-can’t determine the cause of death. I’m sure he died painfully – the psychological trauma, I can’t believe my eyes...” the shackled headless body was placed on a stretcher and pulled out.

“Inspector Jack,” Tile rose a firm look.

“What is it?”

“The murders, they’re not related to the?”

“No, no,” the inspector hurried to interject, “-I have confirmation it isn’t them.”

“Do the newbies not know?”

“No, best leave the under-the-table issues to the chief and me.”

A thump broke the coroner-inspector hurdle, “-what happened?”

Paul fell on his bottom with a frightened look, “-under the table,” he trembled, “-under the table.”

Janth intervened,”-what’s under the table?” he froze. Tile and Jack followed and held their mouths in horror, “-a baby...”

“No,” Tile wiped his brow, “-it’s a fetus,” they silently looked at the couch, “-the second victim is a woman...” the outfit and less obvious female features proved the investigator wrong, the first impression’s amassed to naught when faced by a bloodied mess.

The coroner lifted a damped piece of cloth, “-she’s been gutted,” he snapped to the side, “-yeah,” he covered her bludgeoned lower body, “-skinned and ripped to shred. The sheets kept our eyes from the truth... she was pregnant.” A heavy silence invaded. The open window could but whisper the outside horns and distant chatter. The outside world moved as for inside, time seemed to stop – the brutality and sheer maliciousness, Janth reached his limit. The poor lad ran out like many others and hurled into the opposite room where mentally scarred officers gathered. Janth’s vivid pride for keeping the law slipped. Like them, an empty look of dejection invaded the psyche, there was no room for retries or erasure; a permanent scar set about trapping their hearts.

Paul’s eyes turned bloodshot red, “-let me,” he cuddled the fetus and laid it next to the second victim, its mother. Her hair was so damped none could make a description of its color. The facial features were deformed, a bloodied hammer told the untold truth. Her throat and her neck carried marks of strangulation as well as two open holes. Her muscles were torn off her legs and arms. The killer took time in taking her apart like a cruel puzzle piece. Stretchers arrived, her right leg was tied against the couch, a flick of a knife, she was taken, with no name nor immediately recognizable features. Tile and Jake waited. The last victim and the killer’s message, “-whoever they were, the third victim’s no longer human.”

“Yeah,” Jack took meaningful deep breaths, “-what we have is here,” the severed arms hammered onto the wall was a tell, for after they crossed the couch, a bucket carried the decapitated remains of whoever was third. A bed of flesh, bones, and organs neatly nestled the victim’s head, the latter of which was in relatively good condition. The words liar was carved into his forehead.

“I recognize him...”

“You do?”

“Yeah, Loke Huen, the police agency’s secret.”

“I was right,” Jack pinched his head, “-I was right.”

“What now?”

“We find the killer. I have an idea who it might be,” he looked out an open window, “-where are the bodies?”

“From the explosion?”

“Yeah.”

“The morgue. Since they are tourists, the paperwork is a little complicated. We’ve asked the husband to come by tomorrow, why?”

“I can’t say if I’m right, I have a hunch the killer’s targeting us.”

“Why would he?”

“I mean, look at the crime scene...”

“And? Listen, I have no interest in joining the scheme set by the agency or the church. My paycheck comes from issuing death certificates.”

“The wife and daughter... I know who killed them.”

“Yeah, I do too. Loke Huen, wasn’t it?

“Uh-huh,” he nodded, “-an explosion of that caliber is his department. One’s for certain, the agency didn’t issue his orders. Huen must have acted on behalf of the church. I doubt we’ll get information from those tight-lipped bastards.”

“There’s no honor among thieves. If the husband took revenge, who are you to deliver justice? I’m just saying, if the one who is responsible easily took them out, I doubt one on ones to be a good idea.”

Thus, the night followed. Istra’s local gazette published the news, and soon the whole town was captivated by the murders. The explosion and apartment murders were linked by strangers. Newspapers made their way the next morning. From top to bottom, everyone knew what transpired.

Similarly, a gentle breeze snuck into a rented cottage room. The wooden roof, floors, and logged walls breathed a hunter-cabin atmosphere. Black hair leaned passionately, their lips, “-good morning, Igna.”

“Syhton,” he sat upright and pulled her shoulders into a warm embrace, “-are you headed home?”

“I suppose,” she watched with affectionately glowing eyes, “-are you certain?”

“Yes,” he smiled and kissed her forehead, “-I’m sure this is the way forward. Having allies is great... still, part of me feels responsible for yesterday’s blunder.”

.....

“Well, as long as you know what you want, I’ll be here.”

“Don’t you have an audition?”

“Yeah, later this afternoon,” she winked, “-Jin the Ripper.”

“Vanesa’s gone home?”

“Shadow Realm.”

“Alright,” they exchanged a warm kiss, “-Engratse’s out here hiding. I’ll draw him out somehow.”

“Just don’t go overboard.”

“I won’t,” they crossed fingers and shared a warm tender embrace, “-good luck on the audition.”

“Thank you,” she stood, “-give Cruse a call, the boy’s been on edge since he entered the academy.”

“He’ll be fine, the boy is a genius,” a portal marked Syhton’s departure.

‘The town’s talking about the murder,’ he looked out the window, the scenery told of hard workers running the streets, ‘-the slum’s a good place to start,’ he slid into his coat and exited the room.

“Hey boss,” said many, “-the killer wrote Hey boss,” the sensationalized broadcast thrust the murder into the limelight. Unbeknownst to them, the killer was a suave man, ‘-who do I kill next? ‘