Author's Notes:
This chapter is 12,000 words long!
1. Why?
2. What on earth am I doing with my life?
3. Is this stuff even coherent?
Top three questions that science cannot answer.
Also I guess if you like Sherlock Holmes you might like this chapter.
Well...if you squint your eyes and smear them with a thick coat of vaseline, that is...
This story is a derivative fanwork written by GodandMen for the Toaru Majutsu no Index/とある魔術の禁書目録 franchise.
SIGILS
II
"Jim, do you know what domestic violence means?"
"Yes ma'am. It's when the husband drinks too much vodka and smacks his wife."
"Well…yes, I suppose that counts. But women can be abusers too, you know."
"Japanese women drink vodka?"
Yomikawa shook her head. He was hopeless.
"That's not my point, Jim. My point is that we're walking into a potentially delicate family situation."
Yomikawa closed the car door and locked it. Jim got out as well.
"Of course, ma'am."
"So how exactly do you think a fully-extended baton will help with that?"
Jim shrugged.
"I mean, we can't just shoot the man. Wait…can we? You have a gun, right?"
"No! We can't just shoot people! Yes, I have a gun! And no! We won't be beating or shooting anyone! We're here to talk and assess the situation. Our priority is to protect the victim, if there is one. And yes, if there is a violent altercation, then we might beat someone. But that's so that we can arrest them, not just to hurt them for the sake of it! So put the damn thing away!"
Jim made a nasty scowl but obediently put it away.
Lieutenant Yomikawa looked around the neighborhood, assessing the surroundings. They had driven into sector ALO-N 16. It was a typical Japanese suburb within Academy City that was filled with separate, individual houses designed for small families. Since Tessou had told them that it was an anonymous call, Yomikawa deduced that it most likely came from one of the neighbors.
She tapped her fingers steadily on her stab vest.
The neighborhood seemed unusually quiet. There were only a few lights turned on. Furthermore, Jim's demeanor seemed very strange. He made no complaints when she had told him about responding to the call. In fact he was usually quiet, eager almost, about coming with her. Her eyes wandered across the pavement.
There was a small puddle of oil.
And these tire marks…
"Alright Jim, follow me. Let's go to the house the caller mentioned."
The door was open.
Yomikawa slowly slid through the small wooden gate that was left ajar and peeked inside the open doorway. She spied pieces of a broken vase littering the dark entrance. There were no lights turned on in the entire house. She heard Jim slowly unsheathing the baton from his vest and quietly extending it.
"Ma'am?"
"Go around and watch the back. In one minute's time I'll start knocking. If anyone comes out, try and stop them. But don't go overboard and get yourself hurt."
"Are you going in alone? I don't think – "
"I'll be fine, Jim. Just make sure your earpiece and radio is on."
Jim slithered away into the shadows.
"Hello! Is anyone home! I'm from Anti-Skill! Someone reported a disturbance! Is everything alright?"
Jim heard Yomikawa's loud voice echoing from the front…then the distinct sound of her hands knocking on the door. He steadied his breathing and adjusted his grip on the baton. Jim badly wished that he had a gun with him, or at least a knife; anything was better than this flimsy stick.
"I'm coming inside! Sorry for disturbing!"
He thought he heard the faint sound the door creaking open, but he wasn't sure. What followed was an agonizing wait as Jim simply sat there, crouching behind a trash can, his eyes intendedly watching the back door of the house. He waited and waited…
His earpiece crackled to life.
"Jim, it's all clear. Come in from the back and check the kitchen, then upstairs. Then meet me in the living room."
He rose up in a flash and shot past the backdoor, which he realized was also open. He could see a stray beam of light in the hallway; Yomikawa's flashlight. He snapped his own on and scanned the kitchen.
Jim noticed an acidic smell in the air.
But he did not have the time to investigate further. Once he made sure the kitchen was clear, he went up the stairs to the second floor. The second story of the house had only two rooms; a study and a small bed room. Jim resisted the urge to kick in doors. Instead he simply opened them with his hands. He found them to be deserted as well.
"Kitchen and upstairs all clear, ma'am."
"Come down, you'll want to see this."
As Jim descended down the stairs his nose picked up the faint acidic smell again. He found Yomikawa in the living room, kneeling over something. The bright beam of her flash light illuminated her face; it was an expression of concentration and focus. Jim looked at what Yomikawa was so intensely studying:
A dead body.
Woman. Mid-thirties. His eyes looked over her bloodied clothing. They were very mature and sexy. Expensive clothes, high class. There were a lot of pink cards scattered around. Pink business cards. Prostitute. Sex worker. Yomikawa's flash light shone across the body's neck, revealing a line of red bruises. Choked. Strangled. The body was sprawled across the center of the living room. Jim remembered the anonymous call.
The husband.
"It's always the damn vodka."
Yomikawa shook her head slowly and pointed to a mass of object to her right. Jim shifted his flash light and saw that it was large duffle bag. Beside it were several large plastic bags – some were already open – commonly used for the large 120 litre bins. But what surprised him was the sudden light of his flashlight reflecting off the saw blades.
He saw a wide array of saw blades on the floor, all neatly arranged from smallest to largest.
Jim slowly turned to her.
"Yep…first he kills the victim, and then he cuts them into smaller pieces. After that he puts the pieces into plastic bags and dispose of them somewhere far away from the crime scene."
The lieutenant stood up with a grim expression.
"She is Suspect A's fourth victim."
It was the serial killer.
"Did you call it in, ma'am?"
"Yes. The task force will be here soon."
There was a short, heavy pause.
"Well, if that's the case," Jim said slowly, "then we should see what we can find before they trample all over the scene, right?"
Yomikawa stared at him for a moment before a shadowy smile spread across her face.
"Yes…you're right. Jim, go and check the yard outside and the backdoor. I'll see what I can find here."
She handed him a pair of forensic gloves before slapping one on her own hands. Jim couldn't help but wonder just how many pairs she carried on her at any given moment. He snapped the gloves on his hands and stepped out in the cool spring night.
The first thing he took was a deep breath.
He looked around the yard with experienced eyes. It was a small courtyard covered in grass and some bushes. He smiled at his luck. He wondered what exactly Yomikawa had in mind when she ordered him to check the courtyard.
Did she know? No, it was unlikely. Very people knew about his past, not even a lot of the jackals he met in Sofia. At least not this part of his past. Only a few of those who had fought with him Krakozhia knew. And most of them were long dead.
Jim closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. Robbed of his vision, all of his other senses came to life, stronger than ever. Jim savored the sensation of the cool night air, the vest on his body, the soft earth beneath his fingers, and his steady heartbeat. He mustered all of his will and beckoned the darkness to him. Everything faded away as a terrible, suffocating silence descended upon him.
He recited the words once whispered to him:
Forget. You must forget, here in the Woods you must forget. If you seek to leave this place, you must learn to forget everything. Your past, your life, your humanity…
The darkness swirled around him. He recited the oath, the whisper he once spoke with trembling lips, many years ago in the deep, dark Woods. He knelt there for a moment and allowed the Night to sweep over his body.
He stood up and, with his eyelids securely shut, opened his eyes.
He saw, in a blueish glow he could not describe properly, the small footprints leading across the grassy courtyard. His fingers brushed over the flattened grass but he felt no heat, only a light coldness. He made sure to use his right hand but a phantom pain still ached in his left. Clearly it was some form of magic.
The footprints were light and shallow. He measured the strides with his palm. They were rather short.
Someone small, someone light.
He followed the footprints to a large window looking out from the living room. There was a small, low ledge protruding from the window. He saw a pair of slippers on the ledge.
Jim saw the footprints leading onto the ledge. There was a pair of footprints – barefoot prints, with no shoes – beside the window, but to the side, just barely hidden from the view of someone within the living room.
Jim looked inside and saw a tall figure within the living room. He saw the bright colors swirling and radiating from her body. It was a scene of her anger and frustration being suppressed by a harsh, icy calmness. He saw her pacing around the lifeless body methodically and examining every detail, and with each movement her feelings bled more and more into the air.
What really stood out to him was the stain around the body.
Jim saw that there was a glowing green stain around the body. It glowed with a mistakable magical aura. He could see that there seemed to be some shape positioned around the victim, but it was blotched and smeared by the great stain.
A magic circle?
The cold footprints led inside the living room.
He saw that there were several other pairs of footprints in the living room, excluding his own and that of Yomikawa's. He walked back to the entrance and saw that, in addition to the cold one, there were two other pairs of footprints.
One was red hot with heat. It was all too familiar. He had seen in the warehouse. In fact it was what he had directed his flying knives towards. He swore he could even smell the flour dust.
Fuck, it's her.
The other, however, had a faint, familiar green glow to it. Jim tightened his jaws when he recognized it to be same aura as the stain around the victim.
Serial killer's a magician.
A painful ache slowly crept its way up Jim's left arm. He could feel it hungering for the taste of magic. He gripped it roughly and dug his finger nails into his muscles.
He raised his boots to simply step through the pieces of the broken vase, but he remembered that he was in a crime scene. So he carefully stepped over it. That way, he wouldn't shift the pieces around and make life difficult for the task force.
However as he was doing so his eyes suddenly spotted something. He saw that there was a small symbol glowing on the wall, beside a small table, in the spot right where the vase would have before it fell.
The aura of the glow was blue and cold, just like the small footprints. He reached his left arm out and touched it.
He felt the fingers on his left hand burning as the symbol disappeared.
A magic spell.
He sighed at this new revelation.
Two magicians.
Jim decided to look over the entrance. He saw that there was a spot that glowed brightly with heat. It was as if the red footprints walked inside the doorway and proceeded to stop in one spot for a long time. Then the red footprints started moving again. It looked as if the red footprint was chasing the green magical one.
He followed the footprints down the hallway. He saw that while there was some messy overlap, the three unknown footprints all eventually led to the kitchen and towards the direction of the back door.
There was, however, a divergence at the kitchen.
Jim saw another magical symbol on the backdoor. It was blue and cold as well. It was the same magical aura as the symbol by the door. It was cast by the same person who made the cold footprints.
The small cold footprints circled around the kitchen several times before leading out a small window high up on the kitchen wall. The red and green magical footprints led out the backdoor. Jim decided to check the cold footprints first.
He circled around outside to the small window. There was a small area of flattened grass just below it, and he could see that it was tainted with the distinctive coldness. Jim followed the cold footprints until they disappeared over the low wall and onto the pavement. He knew that he could not track it on the concrete. He studied the path taken by the cold footprints. He could tell that the person was running and that the person ran past several tall bushes before reaching the wall.
Jim observed that there were several broken branches on the ground. He turned around and extended his arms inside the bush. His fingers reached inside and parted some of the bush's leaves and branches…
That's when he saw it.
If he had been using his normal eyes there was no way he would have noticed it. He certainly not have noticed it in the dark. But Jim was not using his normal eyes. He did not miss it. He could not. Not when he was using these eyes.
It was hidden, nestled within the branches, below the outer layer of the bush. His shaking hand reached inside and gently parted it from the branches. Then he pulled it out and cradled it in his hands. Its silvery light shone brightly in the darkness, piercing even these eyes.
It was a single strand of ashen hair.
The girl with ashen hair.
Jim quickly turned around and followed the magical and red hot footprints out the backdoor. They all ended at the concrete. Jim slowly closed those eyes and opened his normal ones, looking around the dark street. He already knew what he was searching for. He quickly found it in a dark corner of the street.
It was a small brass casing that still had the faint smell of gunpowder residue. He turned it over in his palm. Jim recognized the cartridge.
It was an expended casing of a 9x19 Parabellum round.
Now, to be fair, the 9x19 Parabellum is a very common cartridge. It was used by a variety of firearms. In fact one could argue it was the most popular cartridge in the world for pistols and submachine guns. Of the top of his head Jim could list several pistols, some he'd personally handled, others taught to him by the jackals;
Browning Hi-Power, Luger, CZ 75, some variants of Glocks, some TT models like the Zavasta M88, and of course the most obvious one…
The memory of the woman, with the magnificent flames swirling around her face, raising her pistol and aiming for his head through the dusty haze, came to Jim's mind.
…the entire Beretta 92 series.
Jim stood there for a long time and tried to understand what happened. He slowly formulated the series of events that must have occurred.
Woman comes home with killer. Killer kills woman. He does some magic stuff? Operative sneaks in and wait at the doorway while this happens. The girl with ashen hair sneaks in from the courtyard and hides on the ledge. Then the little girl uses the spell? Wait…no, no, no.
Jim racked his head again.
The spell by the door was prepared. It was placed there before hand.
He reformed his train of thought.
So the little girl came in first. She placed the spell, both by the doorway and on the backdoor. Then she snuck out and waited in the courtyard. Then woman comes home with killer. Operative follows in. Killer kills woman. He does magic stuff. Operative waits. Then little girl uses spell, drops the vase. This warns the killer. Killer runs. Then operative chases serial killer…? And little girl…walks around the house a bit? Then goes out the window?
Jim rubbed his temple in frustration. It was a bit messy but it was more-or-less coherent.
The point is, the little girl was…helping the serial killer?
Warning him?
Evidently she did not want him to get caught.
But how did the operative know? How did she know to come here?
Well I know to come here because I solved the script on the wall. She must have done the same. So she came here thinking that it must have been related to the girl.
Instead the operative saw the killer and didn't know what to do. So she waited and observed. But before she could get a chance to snatch him the littler girl toppled the vase with the spell. This spooked the serial killer and he ran off. She didn't know that the little girl was by the window.
Then the little girl…walked around the house a bit and jumped out the window? I guess?
It was good enough for Jim.
"Did you find anything, Jim?"
He was silent.
Yomikawa saw that Jim seemed to be deep in thought. It was as if he was slowly thinking something over. She directed her flashlight in his face. She saw the boy wincing at the bright light suddenly piercing his eyes.
"Did. You. Find. Anything?"
He scratched his head.
"No, ma'am…I didn't find anything."
"Nothing? Nothing at all? No footprints? Nothing?"
"No…"
"Either you're stupid or Suspect A is a master. I wonder which it is. Alright, you take over the living room. I'll look around the courtyard myself."
"You're definitely stupid."
Jim shrugged his shoulders apologetically. The weight of the 9x19 Parabellum shell – tucked safely away in a pocket on his pants – suddenly felt immeasurably heavy. He saw that the lieutenant was deep in thought.
She probably didn't figure much out. After all, she can't see like I do…
"So ma'am, what did you find?"
"I found a lot. But it would be difficult to explain it separately. Let me walk you through the beginning."
Jim patiently folded his arms across his chest. He highly doubted that Yomikawa would be able to deduce the series of events like he did. She had normal eyes and he had already tucked away the casing and the strand of hair. There were basically no clues for her to work with.
She'll think Suspect A killed someone and ran off. Plain and simple. No operative. Definitely no girl.
"So, Jim, before we start let's assign some names so that we're not confused. By my count there's at least four people involved, including the victim. Let's name them A, B, C and V. A is for Suspect A and V is for the victim."
Jim raised his eyebrows.
What…?
"This is how it all unfolded, Jim. First of all V is a sex worker. She brings A home. A strangles her. So far so good. Here's the interesting part. B lock picks the front door and sneaks in. B waits at the entrance. Maybe B is observing A. Then B accidentally trips the vase. A bolts for it and B follows him. A somehow shuts the backdoor in B's face, probably with magic. B shoots the door several times. Eventually B opens the door but by then A drove off. B gets in another car and gives chase."
Jim physically resisted the urge to let his mouth drop open.
"But it gets stranger! C, who has been standing by the window, sneaks inside and cleans up after A. Why? I don't know! Anyhow, while C was cleaning up B comes back through the backdoor! B tries to open the door, this time from the other side, but it's locked again. C escapes through a small window in the kitchen. B shoots the door and finally opens but it's too late. Then B probably looked around a bit and then left. A long time later, we come in and find this mess. End of story."
Yomikawa rubbed her chin thoughtfully.
"There are a lot of gaps, Jim, but this is my best theory right now. What do you think?"
Jim blinked slowly and seriously considered the possibility. He tried to clear his mind. Then, he looked her in the eye let the thought mentally shoot through his head.
Yomikawa! Look behind you! It's the killer!?
But the Anti-Skill lieutenant just stared back at him.
Okay…I guess she's not a mind reader or something. You never know with those damn espers.
In any case, Jim thought an esper's mind reading ability would work on him. Not when he had his left arm attached to him.
"Well?! What do you think, Jim?!" she asked impatiently.
"Um…I don't think it makes sense. Your theory is too elaborate. Okay…first things first, are you even sure B exists? Why not just A? Also, how do you know B tripped the vase? What makes you think B stood at the entrance for a long time? Maybe A just tripped it while killing V? Maybe he started to strangle her at the doorway? Or it just fell?"
"Well, fair enough, I don't know for sure that B tripped it. However I am sure B exists. The reason is simple. I noticed at the entrance there were small particles of dust and dirt. It is very distinctive. B was wearing some sort of tactical boots, well-worn tactical boots. I know this because I can literally see the footprints. Those tactical boots always have deep grooves for extra friction. That's where, the grooves I mean, all the dirt and dust came from. It also gives the boots a distinctive boot print. The reason I know B stood at the entrance for a long time is because there's a spot with a lot of dust and dirt. Clearly as she stood there all of the particles just came off by themselves."
Jim grimaced internally. She was right. The red footprints were indeed those of a pair of tactical boots.
"But ma'am, maybe the boots are from A?"
Yomikawa rolled her eyes and her hands reached over and twisted his ears. Then she dragged Jim – whining loudly with pain – over to the door way and shone her light on two pairs of shoes at the entrance.
"Jim, I know you are a foreigner but come on! Look! Here in Japan we take off our shoes when we enter a house. There are clearly two pairs of shoes here; one pair of high heels belonging to V and another pair of men's shoes belong to A. So, no, A was not wearing boots. I saw you walking through the entrance when you were exploring around. Were your eyes closed or something?!"
Jim rubbed his ears, still stinging with pain, and considered carefully what he would say next. He needed to be careful to not let slip of any information he knew. He also had to make sure not to ask any leading questions.
"But, lieutenant! How do you know C exists? How do you know he cleaned up after A? Why not B? Maybe he cleaned up after A? And also the window! How do you know that C stood by the window until A and B ran off?"
"Woah, woah, Doctor Jim, one question at a time. First, of all I know C exists. And I also happen to think that C is a girl…a small girl in fact. Well, probably more like a very small statured woman. A woman who is a bit childish. I also know that she is…very polite. And unlike you, Jim, she is not a barbarian! She knows that one should take off their shoes when they enter a house."
Jim felt his heart stop beating.
"Wha –"
"Okay first the window. I admit it's a bit of a blind shot but it makes sense. One thing I do know is that she stood by the window. How do I know this? Because there's a pair of dirty slippers by the window. And you can clearly see a pair of dirty footprints on the ledge. I don't need special thermal vision or DNA mapping to see that. I can also…guess that C sneaked in through the window. Why? Because the window is unlocked. You can see that A and V had just gotten home. Maybe V unlocked it? Maybe V forgot to lock it? Who knows. However it's likely C opened it and gained entrance to the living room. You can actually still see it slightly open."
"But a girl? Small statured woman? Ho –"
"Blind guess, true, but come on! Look at the slippers. They are small and girlish. And judging by their size the person wearing them is very small. Unless she has super small feet, that is. Occam's razor, Jim."
"Her kid! Her own kid! V's daughter!"
"Nope. And don't say A is her husband. Look around Jim! Do you see any family pictures? Look at the placard at the front door. It written with the family name and all of the inhabitants. It's a Japanese custom. And there's only one name listed on it. V's name. So A and C are definitely not family members. Also you checked upstairs, right? No sign of a kid's room, right?"
She was right.
"But C escaping through the window? How?"
"Oh right Jim, I was going to mention that. On that note I have to say you are seriously quite dumb! I honestly expected more of you!"
They walked out of the house and circled to the back. It was the place where Jim had found the flattened grass and the girl's strand of hair. Luckily he had already tucked the hair away in a pocket as well. At this rate it was a real possibility that Yomikawa would actually spot the hair if it was in the bushes.
She shined the flashlight at the flattened grass.
"Now Jim, where did you grow up? In the city? In a village?"
"I was…in the city until I was six or so. Then I moved to the country."
"So you've been around the woods? Know your way around the forest?"
Of course, he thought, I spent the most of the last war in the Krakozh mountains.
"Yes…kind of."
"Well Jim, I'll admit that I'm a city girl through and through, but I don't need to be some master tracker in order to know that somebody jumped out of the window and landed here. And also, look at how small that window is! An adult would not fit through that. Only a child or small woman. Or midget. Something like that. Another point for my theory."
Yomikawa flashed her light to the tall bushes.
Jim felt his heartbeat shooting up.
"I thought maybe C would run into some bushes and get her hair caught or something. But no luck. I guess C had short hair. Perhaps a male midget! Or a dwarf? I don't know which is the better term. The correct term. Anyways, no leads there."
"Then how do you know B chased A? And shooting the door? What?"
"Jim…seriously, were your eyes closed? Are you blind?"
She dragged him over to the backdoor. The moment her flashlight landed on it he realized why she had formed that conclusion. Jim cursed himself for only using his other pair of eyes to check the scene.
He did not use his normal eyes.
The door handle was charred and pieces of metal and wood had been twisted off or had burst open. Clearly someone had shot at the handle. Multiple times.
"See, Jim? B was shooting at it. And it's more likely to be B because of the tactical boots. And you can see this from both sides. So clearly B tried to open it twice. Once from the inside, and the other time from the outside."
She picked up several empty casings from the grass. The one in Jim's trousers suddenly felt like a weightless feather. He could not believe that he had missed that on his way back in.
"Look, Jim. 9x19 Parabellum. B was using a handgun. Probably suppressed, because the call mentioned no gunshot. Also if someone was shooting so much without a suppressor, the negihbors would hear it and call us right away."
Yomikawa rubbed her chin thoughtfully.
"Hmm…since we're in Academy City I have to say the most likely option is probably a Glock 17. Our own Anti-Skill's Glock 17, in fact. Or it could be an American M9 that got written off and smuggled inside."
"But magic! You said A sealed the door with magic!"
"Yes, I did. I don't expect you to know this but I do. I recognize this model of door handle and the lock. I can also tell you with 100% that the door was not actually locked when B pried it open. So either A was pushing against it to hold it or it was sealed by magic. And judging by where B was shooting A definitely was not leaning against it. And C is a small…person. A small person would not be good at the holding the door with their body weight. And C is probably not bullet-proof either."
"But why magic? It's –"
Jim knew because he saw the magical symbol. How did Yomikawa…
"Well, you know how it is, Jim. If it's not science then it's magic. It hand waves everything! Very convenient when you can't come up with something logical."
Jim suddenly stopped himself. His eyes widened. He suddenly remembered the earlier afternoon, when they were both in the car. He remembered what she had said when she had ordered him to clean the toilet. He remembered a phrase in particular that she had used.
'What, you think Suspect A is a super spy or something? You think he's the Pope with his Vatican magicians?'
Her voiced echoed in his head.
'You think he's the Pope with his Vatican magicians?'
He narrowed his eyes.
'…his Vatican magicians?'
She was poking around with the busted door handle.
"Yomikawa…"
The lieutenant stopped in her tracks when she heard his voice. Jim was no longer speaking in his cadet voice. Instead a mongrel was addressing her. She turned slowly, with a raised eyebrow, and saw that his face had formed into a deadly serious expression.
Frankly she found it quite comical.
"Yes, what it is, Mr. I -am-just-a-dumb-cadet-until-I-get-serious-and-talk-with-a-super-duper-low-voice-so-you-know-that-I-am-being-super-duper-serious? What do you want, eh?!"
"How…how do you know about magic?"
Ah, she thought, I let my tongue slip.
Yomikawa immediately remembered what she had said in car. But it was pointless, she had already said that. It was already out there. It was more important to put out this immediate fire.
"I was just kidding, Jim. I don't know how the door was held close."
"No…you said something else. This afternoon, while we were in car. You said the phrase 'the Pope and his Vatican magicians.' How…how do you know that?"
They both knew what he was talking about.
Magic was a secret hidden from the world. It was one of the best kept secrets, considering how far its reach was and how long and how extensive magic had been practiced. All magicians knew that they must never practice magic in front of common people, lest they too, want to learn it for themselves.
There were – broadly speaking – only two groups of people in the world who knew about the existence of magic. One group was the magicians themselves.
The other group was intelligence officers. Intelligence officers from various services around the world knew, especially those serving in the Academy City's black intelligence service.
Those like Jim.
While Jim had already known – quite vaguely, to be fair, almost superstitiously – about magic before being recruited by the jackals, he certainly did not understand the concept of magic and magicians as he did now.
He certainly did not know that the Vatican City made extensive use of magicians as a paramilitary force in order to further the magical interests of the Catholic Church. He only learned about that after the jackals had recruited him and began training him to be an intelligence officer.
Jim was just a mongrel, yes, but the jackals held everyone to high standards, even mongrels. Especially mongrels. That's why they were so successful. And to be successful you most certainly had to know about your potential opponents.
The Anti-Skill lieutenant standing in front of him had no business knowing about magic, let alone about the Vatican City's magicians.
But Lieutenant Yomikawa Aiho just made a long face.
"OH REALLY? So you remember me saying that one particular phrase like a true professional but couldn't see the fucking door handle? Seriously? That's what you remember? Well, good to know! Because next time I need you to do something important I'll make sure to order you around in relations to the toilet. Then maybe you'll actually use your damn eyes or something."
Yomikawa rolled her eyes and adopted a comical, high pitched voice:
"Jim, scour the crime scene with your eyes, like you're looking for shit stains on the toilet!"
Then, just to tease him, she swore loudly:
"Jesus Christ!"
Jim was not amused.
Yomikawa simply smiled.
"Now, while you're standing there with your I'm-not-kidding-this-is-serious-please-take-me-seriously-even-though-I-awlays-pretend-to-be-a-dumbass-cadet expression, let me walk you through rest of my deductions. I said A drove off and B gave chase, right? Well I know that because there are some tire marks on the pavement just outside the backdoor. Clearly A had parked his car there beforehand – proof of premediated murder – and drove off in a hurry, accelerating suddenly."
She smiled at how he was trying to keep a straight face.
"Now how do I know that B gave chase, also in a car? Well, to put it simply, unlike a certain Mr. I-pretend-to-be-a-dumb-cadet-until-I-get-serious-then-I-acutally-becomes-a-stupid-cadet-who-walks-around-with-his-eyes-closed-but-I-still-think-I'm-such-a-badass, this Lieutenant Yomikawa Aiho actually pays attention. Even when there seems to be nothing happening."
She smacked him on the head.
"That is how I noticed that there was a pair of tire marks near where we parked the patrol car. I also noticed that the car parked there – a van of some sort, judging by the tires' spacing – had an oil leak. The car parked there also accelerated suddenly and took off in the same direction as A's car. And you can also see the same puddle of oil in the back of house, showing that the driver came back again before driving off. Since we know B was chasing A, the logical answer is that the van is B's car! Voila! It is, at the very least, a reasonable guess."
Jim just gave up. His mouth simply dropped open. Yomikawa giggled at his expression and proudly directed him towards the living room.
"Now follow me please, Mr…hobo canine, and I'll tell you why I think C cleaned up after A."
The lieutenant waved her hands around the victim's body in a sweeping motion.
Jim saw that it was glowing green, just as he had saw with his other eyes. But this time, he was seeing the same thing with his normal eyes. He turned to look at Yomikawa.
Jim suddenly realized what the faint acidic smell he had smelled in the kitchen was.
"Yes," she said, "it's urine."
She handed him the LED UV flashlight and he swept it over the living room as well. He could see the faint green trail leading from the living room to the kitchen.
"Personally I think it's cat urine, probably that of a black cat, but of course I can't say that for certain without testing. The cat part, I meant. I doubt we can specifically test for a black cat."
"A…black cat, ma'am?"
"Yes. Or a white one. Or a magical one. Or the Pope's cat. Some stupid shit like that. Don't ask me why, I am not a magician. But them magicians usually believe in some shit like that for their spells to work. But I know for certain it's urine. And since this is magical, it's probably that a cat. Although I've heard of dog's urine being used as an ingredient as well. Anyways, blood and semen usually show up in a different color. At least we know that A didn't…defile the victim. So instead of a pervert we have a religious nut."
Jim wondered why Yomikawa had the LED UV flashlight on her. Well, to be fair, it made perfect sense. Such a tool was very useful for seeing hidden bloodstains. It was only natural an Anti-Skill officer would carry it on her.
What on earth does she carry with her, the entire fucking armory? Is this why she relies on Tessou so much? So that she can give her everything?
"Just like you said, Jim, it's some sort of moral thing. Some magician is going around killing people for their depraved morals. This victim's a sex worker, so the angle must be sexual depravity."
"But...cleaning up? C cleaning up? How…"
"Couple of things. Look at the sink in the kitchen, Jim. No, not with your eyes. And also, now you use your eyes? Ugh. I meant with the UV flashlight!"
Jim flashed it over the kitchen sink. It was glowing bright green, even stronger than the stain in the living room. He saw that there was a small container of liquid in the sink. He brought his nose closer and looked away in disgust.
It stank of urine.
"A was probably using the urine to…oh I don't know, draw a magic circle or some magician shit like that. Anyways, C clearly dumped the stuff in the sink and was trying to wash it away."
"But why C? Why not B? Or A?"
Yomikawa smiled.
"Jim…tell me where the soap is."
He pointed at the bottle of liquid soap next the kitchen sink. She rolled her eyes.
"Well, it's here now. But imagine that it wasn't there, where would you look for it? Put yourself in someone else's shoes, someone trying to clean the crime scene. And there's no soap."
Jim's eyes slowly looked over the kitchen's drawers and cupboards. He realized that they had already been opened.
"That's right Jim, there's nothing there. Nothing below the sink. Where do you look next?"
He flashed his flashlight over the sink. There were other cabinets. There were several cabinets hanging overhead, above the kitchen counter. The light stopped at a particular section. Jim spied several bottles of liquid soap placed on top of the overhead cupboards.
"Now, try to reach it with your hands."
Jim was not the tallest person. For a sixteen year old teenage boy he was just about average. He found that even when he was standing on his toes, he was barely tall enough and his arms barely long enough to reach for a bottle.
"No, no, don't actually take one. Don't disturb the crime scene. Now Jim, what would you do if you were shorter? Let's say…two feet shorter? And your arms were also shorter?"
"Um…I'd get a chair? Something to stand on?"
Yomikawa smiled and flashed her light to his front. He saw that there was already a chair taken from the dining table. And it was placed right in front of where the overhead cabinet with the soap bottles was.
Just like what a small girl would do …
"Now, time for a pop quiz! Of the people A, B, C and V, who is most likely to be the shortest?"
…if she was trying to reach for the soap bottles on the overhead cabinet.
"...C? The girl? The small girl?"
She shook his head sadly.
"Jim, you are not just blind but also stupid. Is that a note of uncertainty I detect in your voice?"
Jim shook his head in confusion.
"Why would you be uncertain? OF COURSE! OF COURSE IT'S C! WHO ELSE?"
The lieutenant quick directed her beam of light towards the small kitchen window high on the wall. It was where the girl had jumped out on the grass from.
There was also a chair propped beneath it.
"And that is the answer to our Flying Suspect! B suddenly come back and started banging on the door, shooting at it and what not, so C had to get a chair and jump out the window!"
Yomikawa suddenly stopped herself.
"So let's just say, for hypothesis's sake, that B couldn't catch A because of a magic spell on the door. So if B couldn't get in even after A was already gone..."
Jim saw a dangerous light flashing across her eyes.
"Then C must have cast that spell! Yes, it makes perfect sense. Yes, yes, of course. Of course C must be a magician as well. After all, why would she clean up after A? It's the magician's code, right? They work with each other to prevent common people from learning about magic. Yes, it makes perfect sense! Perfect sense!"
Jim felt his chest heavy with dread.
"Yes, yes…so that was why C was standing by the window! She was a lookout! A lookout for A to commit his crime. An accomplice! Wait, on that note it makes no sense for B to trip that vase. If B is the type to wear tactical boots and wield a suppressed pistol then B surely would not make such a sloppy mistake. Surely C must have…ah…toppled the vase with magic! Magic! A spell! Like the one on the door!"
She held up her finger triumphantly.
"Yes, yes, C must have been warning A about B!"
The lieutenant was excitedly pacing around the kitchen, her head held low with concentration. She muttered quickly to herself and tried to work out the ways in her theory could be false. She was already playing the devil's advocate against her own hypothesis, using her own skepticism to poke holes at it, strengthening the working theory and discarding the less likely possibilities.
Jim just stared at her.
"Yomikawa…just who the fuck are you?"
"What? What did you say?"
"I said, what the fuck are you?"
"What kind of a question is that? And while I appreciate you using my surname directly, as I have asked you to do so many times before, I'm not sure I like your tone, Mr. I-am-just-a-cadet!"
"I know what I asked. Who the fuck are you?"
"Woah, woah! Watch your tone, little boy! And I am just a normal Anti-Skill lieutenant, that's all! Lieutenant Yomikawa Aiho of Anti-Skill Branch 73!"
"I don't give a shit about my tone. And you're just a normal Anti-Skill lieutenant as much as I'm just a normal Anti-Skill cadet!"
A shadowy smile spread across her face.
She suddenly spoke to him in a voice he did not recognize.
"Well, I think you've just answered your own question there, didn't you, Jakov?"
Jim's heart stopped when he heard that name.
He felt the hair on the back his neck standing up. He looked at the woman standing in the dark in front of him. Although she wore the uniform of an Anti-Skill officer, he recognized her as no such thing.
Jim was not talking to an Anti-Skill lieutenant.
"Didn't your new station chief tell you who I am, Jakov?"
He recognized that glint in her eye, that cold, shadowy smile on her face. He had seen it many times before. And they always belonged to the same group of people. It was the people who had picked him up from Krakohzia, the people who had reached their hands out him and gave him a chance to work in the shadows.
It was the same eyes he saw when he was in that small, suffocating basement heavy with the smell of freshly carved wood, surrounded by thousands and thousands of blank wooden dolls.
She had the smile of jackal.
"No, you're wrong. I don't smile like a jackal. I am not one of you. I don't don the black. In any case, I'm sure your new station chief has also told you that I'm not a snake. If he is anyone worth his salt, that is. Regardless, both statements are true."
She rolled her eyes when she saw his expression.
"Now, while I find this suggestion terribly offensive, I must address it and assure you that no, I can't read your mind. I don't need dirty little esper tricks like that."
"But my name…how…?"
"Please, don't be so surprised about your name. Yes, it's written Jim Ivanov Ivanov – terribly uncreative, by the way – on all of your school papers, even on the Anti-Skill file, but I hardly need access to your personal file from the black ones to know that the name on your Bulgarian passport is Jakov Ivanov Ivanov."
Her smile grew wider.
"So, please, don't act so surprised. I'm sure they…hmm, let's see. Sofia? The Sofia station? I know the black ones have a big station in Sofia. Well, I know for certain it's either Varna or Sofia, and you don't look like someone from Varna. Let's settle on Sofia then."
She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.
"Anyhow, I'm sure they told you to change it to an anglicized version before coming here. To avoid attention, of course. After all, with Jim you could pass as some generic white kid, but with Jakov you would be an exotic Eastern European white kid. It would be certainly be problematic if anyone thought you were Russian. To be fair, you don't look very white."
She tapped her fingers on her lips.
"You look quite mixed actually. Some variety of Central Asian, perhaps? Crimean Tatar? Well, I heard that the Crimean Tatars don't look very Asian these days, do they? Then Dagestani, perhaps? Georgian? Azerbaijani? Armenian? No, no, I'm getting too far, aren't I. Let's see…since your passport is Bulgarian, it should be somewhere close by, somewhere to the west side of the Black Sea. That makes you either some form of Turkish or, more likely…"
Her eyes twinkled with feverish excitement.
"…Krakozh? From Krakozhia?"
The blood drained from Jim's face.
"Oh course! You're Krakozh! It the obvious choice! Of course it would be Bulgaria's next door neighbor, Krakozhia! I heard that they'd just finished fighting a bloody civil war a couple of years ago. There'd plenty of child soldiers for the black ones to recruit. I'm sure that's how you became a mongrel. Oh, my poor Jaten'ko!"
She narrowed her eyes and her fiendish smile widened.
"But you're too easy to read, Jaten'ko, you really are. You really must practice your poker face. You managed it so well too, when we were in the interrogation room. You're not going to last very long in field like otherwise. You shouldn't make such a face just because some nasty lieutenant from your Anti-Skill cover is stating some incredibly obvious facts. What will do you if the snakes get their hands on you? Or your own jackals? You're such a poor, unfortunate boy, my dear Jaten'ko, you really are."
For a long time the only sound in the kitchen was the their flashlights humming with electricity.
Jim stared at her.
And the abyss stared back.
She peeked her head around the corner again. The Anti-Skill patrol car was still parked there. She frowned unhappily.
What exactly was she expecting?
The small girl with ashen hair knew that she was seriously pushing her luck. First she had managed wander around the area for the entirety of the late afternoon without anyone noticing or seeing her. Then she was lucky enough to see the summoner park his car behind the house. After that she managed to break into the house with simple spell to unlock the window. Then…
She swallowed guiltily.
Then she did that.
Soon afterwards she placed two spells, one at the entrance and the other on the backdoor, just as a precautionary measure. Then she managed to stay hidden while the summoner made his fourth sacrifice and draw the sloppy shape that he called a sigil. Somehow she managed to alert him to the scary woman's presence and she managed to hold the woman long enough for him to escape.
She even had to gall to call Anti-Skill with the landline.
Then when she was cleaning after the slob – that sigil was too obvious, and he still needed one more – the scary woman suddenly came back. All the girl had heard from the kitchen was a quiet shake of the handle. Then silence.
Then shooting.
Lots of shooting.
Aren't you supposed to capture me? How is shooting the door like that going to accomplish that? What if I was standing behind it?
And so out the window she went. Unfortunately for her, in her great haste she forgot to take her pair of slippers from the ledge. The landing was also quite bad. She thought she heard a nasty crack in her ankles when she hit the grass.
So now the girl was not only barefooted but also walking around with a limp.
She knew that she was very lucky to have managed to accomplish all that without getting caught.
However when she turned around and accidentally bumped her ankle against a telephone pole, a sharp pain shot through her left leg. She bent over, painful tears rolling down her cheeks, and gently massaged her twisted ankle.
Okay, maybe not that lucky.
But she was not worried about that. The girl was not worried about her ankle or the persistent, gnawing hunger in her stomach. In fact, at that very moment she wasn't even really that concerned about the scary woman catching her.
She was worried about him.
A heavy guilt pressed down on her thin, delicate shoulders whenever she thought about what she did to him.
But I had to, she consoled herself, I had to!
That was the reason she had called Anti-Skill in the first place.
She didn't want to him to….
She was very well aware of her own actions, the fact that she stood by and let the summoner strangle the woman without lifting a finger but now she had the shamelessness to be so – oh so – concerned about him.
Oh sweet, loving mother! Thy name is hypocrisy and I am your daughter!
But the girl with ashen hair gritted her teeth and stood up again. She did not have the luxury of being moral or righteous. She never did. It was a lesson that she had learned a long, long time ago.
And she did not survive so long on her own by shying away from the difficult decisions. They were the decisions that only she could make.
She twisted her fingers into a peculiar position.
She was a bit far, yes, but she had no choice. She needed to do it from here. Any closer and the Anti-Skill officers might spot her. And she was sure that she had seen the young man with the deep black eyes walking around the house, with his eyes closed but opened at the same time. She saw a terrible darkness swirling around him.
If he saw her, she was done for.
The girl quickly began whispering the counter-spell.
Movement.
They both heard it at the same time and both of them immediately turned off all of their flashlights.
What followed felt like an eternity of oppressive silence. Both of them stood there, in the darkness, not daring to breathe. He unsheathed his baton while she quietly pulled out her Glock 17 and switched off the thumb safety – an extra safety feature added to Anti-Skill's Glock pistols – with a noiseless click.
They heard it again.
She pointed her fingers to the ceiling.
"I thought you said there wasn't anyone upstairs?" she hissed.
"There isn't. I didn't see anyone."
"Did you check the closet? Open the cupboards? Check behind the bookshelves?"
He was silent. He had only given the rooms a cursory glance.
"Jesus Christ! You are blind and stupid."
He could see that she was already crouching in the hallway, with her pistol at the ready, carefully scanning the staircase. He crept up behind and stacked behind her. Then he reached his hand out and placed it on her shoulder.
"Oh, no you don't, you little dumb fuck. I'm the one with gun and you're the one with the stick. How about you go first? That way at least you can catch some rounds and do something useful with your miserable life."
"Fuck you."
Jim growled in anger but he still crept forwards in front of her. Now he was in front while she was behind him. He could feel the polymer muzzle of Glock 17 hanging in the air beside his right ear. He knew if she started shooting his right ear was going to be in for a bad time. But this was no time to complain.
She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.
So the two of them moved, methodically and quietly, up the stairs as a single unit. The team stopped at the last step of the stairs. Jim peeked his head above the horizon of the second floor, fully expecting a burst of automatic fire to pierce his skull, but there was nothing.
"How many rooms are there?"
"A study and a bedroom."
"The fuck? There was another bedroom? Just how dumb can you be? I knew I should have checked personally," she breathed in his ear.
"It was empty! And it was not furnished!" he hissed back.
"Which room can he hide in? Or were your fucking eyes closed as well?"
"The study only has a desk and bookshelf. The bedroom has a bed and walk in closet."
"A walk in closet and a bed is furnishment, you blind, stupid, little shit."
Another noise. Both of them heard something moving in the bedroom.
The two crept up and stacked on the door.
"Please tell me you know CQB, you blind dumbass. Please tell me the jackals at least taught you that. Please."
"I do, you fucking bitch. I do. I was in Vastok for fuck's sake. I was going room to room, house to house, building to building for months. That's more fucking action then you'll fucking ever see in Anti-Skill."
"Words, words! How about you walk the walk, huh?"
They stacked up on the door. Jim's hands quietly reached for the handle. He spitefully turned back at her for one last time.
"Should have given me a fucking gun."
"Why? So you can shoot me in the back? And what for? You're blind as a bat anyways."
"Fuck you."
He placed his hand on the cold metal handle. Jim felt his heartbeat rapidly increasing. The thumping of his heart was so loud, so all-encompassing that he felt like the entire world must have heard it. But he knew that was not the case. As long he controlled his breathing he would be silent. Despite how it felt like, Jim knew that this was not his first time doing this nor would it be his last.
He felt her hand lightly touching his shoulder.
Her hands were absolutely steady.
"Remember, you go right and I go left. The moment we go in we turn on our flashlights. We hit him low, hard and fast, understand?"
"Yes…ma'am."
A pause.
Then her hand squeezed his shoulders.
Jim turned the handle and gave it a gentle push. Once the door was slightly open, he pulled back for a step, raising his right leg…
…and kicked in the door.
Violence.
Swift, sudden and controlled escalation of violence.
The door didn't even managed to hit the side of room's walls before both of them burst inside, with their blinding flashlight piercing and scanning every corner of the dark bedroom, waiting for a target to present itself.
Jim went forwards to right, swinging his baton, ready to bring it down onto someone's skull while Yomikawa turned to the left with her pistol at the ready, holding it close her body with its muzzle illumined by beam of light. Her finger was on the trigger and the pistol was only a millisecond away from double taping someone's head and torso with two lethal streaks of high velocity 9x19 Parabellum FMJ rounds.
The worst part of neither of them made a noise. It all happened so quickly and so suddenly. Only the sound of door crashing against the wall and echoing across the empty bedroom announced their arrival.
Then Jim saw him.
He caught only a small flash of movement across the bed from the corner of his vision. He was huddling in a corner, but Jim saw him regardless. And Jim did not hesitate. He immediately jumped onto the bed raised his baton for the blow.
But she grabbed his hand mid-motion and the next thing he knew was the Glock's slide smashing into his nose. He reeled back, in shock, as she wrestled the baton away from his hands.
"Jim!" she hissed.
"Hands up! Get out you –"
He began to yell but his words were cut off by a terrible right hook across his jaws. He clutched his bloodied mouth and before he could say anything he felt her hand savagely covering his mouth, almost as if she had him a choke hold. Her iron grip locked itself around his throat and mouth.
"Shhhh! Don't shout!" she hissed again.
He stared at her with crazed eyes.
She pointed her finger frenziedly at the corner of the room, just behind the bed. She slowly directed the beam of light to him. That's when Jim saw him, clearly, for the first time.
He was huddled in the corner, curled into a tiny ball, shivering in fear.
And he was a boy.
He was a small little boy.
Jim could tell that he couldn't be any more than ten, no, nine years old. And he could see that the little boy was still his school uniform, although it was a bit crumbled and messy. He glanced quickly at Yomikawa and saw her glaring at him with her finger over her mouth.
Be silent!
Jim's heart sank.
He nodded slowly at her and felt her death grip relaxing from his throat. Then she slowly sheathed her pistol and floated forwards like a fairy. Jim could only stand there with a dazed expression. His body felt numb and cold.
Yomikawa slowly sat down on the bed. She smiled slightly.
"Well," she said gently, "we found you! Now you're it!"
The boy was still shivering.
"Oh, I'm so sorry we came into the room like that. We thought we were playing hide and seek with you. You were hiding so well. Mr. Stupid over there got a little too excited."
He turned to her in a fearful glance. Yomikawa redirected the beam of her flashlight away from the corner, instead letting the light bounce off a nearby wall. The harsh ray of light diffused across the room more gently, basking it in a warm after glow.
The boy could see a serene, friendly smile on the woman's lips.
It was the same smile his mother would have when she read him a bedtime story and tucked him in at night.
She had the same blue eyes as well, the same deep blue irises that he used to spent hours staring into, while she was cooking…
Jim saw the boy's shoulders dropping and his body relaxing. Then the boy stood up slowly.
"I'm sorry…"
"What for? You were great at hiding. Even Mr. Stupid standing over didn't find you when he looked over this room. But between you and me, he's a little bonkers in the head."
She patted her hands on a spot of the bed next her.
"Come here! I think you deserve a prize!"
The boy uncertainly walked over. He did not sit down.
"You're not here to catch me?"
"No, of course not. Why would we do that?"
"Because…I ran away from home? I'm so sorry."
Yomikawa tilted her head with a cute, puzzled expression on her face.
"Oh wow! You're even playing hide and seek with your family! You must be really good at this! Can you tell onee-san how be so good like you?"
The boy smiled at her absurd comment. Jim felt his heart…
"No…onee-san, I'm not playing hide and seek. I ran away because…my father…"
He looked down at the floor.
"Oh, it's okay, you don't have go back to him. Come here!"
She slowly reached her hand over and gently pulled him to the bed. The boy sat down beside her. Then he suddenly looked up and grabbed Yomikawa's vest.
"Please, don't hurt mommy! She didn't kidnap me! She didn't know! I came here by myself!"
A small shudder ran down Yomikawa's spine, but she did not stop smiling.
"We know, we know. By the way, how did you get in the house? It's such a good hiding spot. Onee-san would never have thought of it it."
"Oh I had a spare key. Mommy told me that if…he, my father I mean, was ever mean to me I could always come here. She said that she would always protect me."
"Ah, I see. That makes sense. When did you come here?"
"I came straight after school. I didn't want to go home…"
Yomikawa peeled off her dirty forensic gloves and slowly patted him on the head, feeling his short damp hair brushing against her sweaty palm. The boy sat there and stared at the ground.
She paused for a moment.
"So, were you playing hide and seek with anyone else? Before onee-san and Mr. Stupid came here? Why were you hiding in the…ah…closet? Under the bed?"
The boy looked up and scratched his head, as if he was trying very hard to remember something.
"Yes…there was this girl. She was kind of weird. She had…ah…"
Jim widened his eyes.
"…I think she had white hair? Like a grandpa? But she was like me, like someone in elementary school. She said…what did she say…?"
Yomikawa glanced coldly at Jim. He saw something angry and dangerous gleaming in her eyes.
"Oh really! So another girl found your hiding spot! What did she say? Can you please remember?"
"Um…she said…no, no! First her eyes started to glow, like an witch! Or like Card Captor Sudako, you know, the magical girl on from the anime! It's my favorite anime! I love how –"
He suddenly stopped.
"Why, what's wrong?" Yomikawa coaxed, "I was so interested in what you were saying! Don't stop!"
He looked nervously at her.
"You don't think it's weird…that a boy likes Card Captor Sudako? My friends say it for sissy girls."
Yomikawa laughed lightly.
"I love Card Captor Sudako as well! I love how cool she is when she flys on her Dream Staff, and how cute she is when she transforms! My boyfriend and father love her too! Actually…can I tell you a secret?"
The boy nodded slowly, his eyes wide open, listening to her every word. She looked around cautiously.
"Okay, you must promise not to tell anyone, okay? Definitely not Mr. Stupid over there, okay? Pinky promise?"
"Pink promise!"
"So…my grandpapa is a grumpy old man…but one night I saw him watch Card Captor Sudako! He was watching it alone and having so much fun! The next day I asked him what he thought about it, and he huffed and puffed and said it was stupid!"
"But, but wasn't he watching it too?"
"I know! He can't even be honest. I bet all your friends are like that too, hehehe!"
The two shared a childish giggle together.
"So anyways, you were telling me about the girl? The girl with white hair?"
The boy looked up brightly. He was regaining his vitality and energy.
"Oh right! So I was hanging out in this bedroom and she suddenly appeared in the door. She asked me what I was doing. I said that this was my room and asked who she was. She said she was mommy's friend and that she wanted to play with me. Then…then her eyes…"
"What happened? Did she transform into Sudako?"
"No, no. She um…don't laugh, okay? Her eyes started glowing! And her voice got all strange and like. She said that she wanted to play hide and seek and that she'll be it and I should hide. She said my mom would be home soon and she would call me if she got home. I don't know why…but I said yes and hid in the closet. Then I guess I…I, ah…fell asleep?"
Yomikawa leaned back slowly and continued to hold his hand, a smile still dancing on her lips.
"Ah, I see, so the little girl of white hair found you first! Such a shame, I thought onee-san and Mr. Stupid over there were the first. But that's alright, you still won the game. Onee-san hope that she can meets the little girl soon, and play lots and lots of games with her."
His small hands tightened around her rough, calloused fingers.
"Are you going to arrest mommy? Please don't arrest mommy. Everyone says she's a bad woman, a bad mom but that's not true! She loves me! She's the only one who loves me! My father says that she's a…what do you say…home cracker? Home tracker?"
Yomikiawa raised her eyebrows with light puzzlement.
"Home wrecker?" she suggested.
"Yes, that! Father says she's a home wrecker, who rips apart the family with bad words and lies. But that's not true! She just wants to protect me!"
There it was again.
Lying.
Falsehood.
Yomikawa drew him in for a gentle hug. She knew that it was uncomfortable for him to squish his face against the stab vest with its protruding pouches so she simply wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
"It's okay," she whispered into his ears, "everything is going to be okay."
But the boy wrapped his short stubby arms around her stab vest and buried his face against the rough velcro pouches.
As for Jim, he only heard the sound the rapidly approaching sirens. Well, that and the sound of his collapsible baton slowly rolling across the carpet. And of course, the blood dripping from his nose.
The cool night air greeted him forgivingly.
Even though he knew it had only been two hours at most, he felt like he had not stepped out of the house for months. He savored the sweet taste of night and gazed longingly at the sky.
Oh, how badly, how desperately he longed for the beautiful sky of his homeland. Back in the mountains he could see the most dazzling array of stars and the entire glaxay painted across the sky. But here, in Academy City, he could only make out a murky, smoggy darkness.
He shakingly brought the waterbottle to his mouth swallowed some water.
Why was his hands shaking?
Was it excitement?
Was it excitement from personally witnessing and studying the crime scene of a serial killer? No it was not. He didn't give two hoots about the serial killer. And he's seen worst and nastier bodies in the war.
Was it fear?
Was it fear from having his name exposed, his nationality deduced and his past accurately uncovered? Perhaps. Perhaps. The sight of her cold unflinching gaze staring into his eyes brought a shiver down his spine. But no, that was not it. He was no strangers to jackals, even though he could tell that she was not one. Still, she was something like that.
Was it adrenaline?
Was the rushing adrenaline he felt when he rushed into the room, swinging his baton like madman, fully prepared for his life to end then and there, to die that very moment? Perhaps. Perhaps. But no, it was not that either. He had kicked in doors before, yes, and he knew what it felt like to have a burst of automatic fire passing just centimeters from his face. This was not it.
Was it…was it the fact that for a briefest moment, he was absolutely ready to bring his baton down and crack open little boy's skull? Was it the fact that if Yomikawa wasn't there to stop him, or if she was too late, or if she had been less forceful…he definitely would have killed the boy?
Was that it?
Guilt?
He stared at his shaking hands.
Nah, it was not it.
It must be the damn coffee.
He had drank, what was it, five cups in the patrol car on his way there. And he was not the only one either. Yomikawa had brought a huge thermos and both of them were chugging caffeine to stay awake.
Yes that was it. That had to be it.
Damn caffeine!
He crushed the water bottle in his hands and threw it away. Then he leaned his back against the patrol car and looked over the scene absolutely buzzing with activity.
He counted at least twenty Anti-Skill patrol car parked haphazardly in this small street. They formed and tight perimeter around the house in question. He could see dozen of Anti-Skill busily working away, like diligent ants, gathering evidence and questioning the neighbors.
Jim saw Yomikawa in a quiet corner, away from all the buzzing sirens and the commotion, talking quickly to a man in a suit. She still had the boy clinging to her side. Jim could tell that the man in a suit was a high ranking person among the Anti-Skill officers. Perhaps he was the commander of Task Force A. He was, however, bowing in deference to Yomikawa, patiently listening to her every word.
But it was no time for Jim to staring at other people.
He took stock of his own situation.
So, he solved a line of script from the warehouse. That single line of script led him here. And it was here he discovered that the little girl with ashen hair was intricately linked the Suspect A, the serial killer.
He also learnt that the little girl was a magician of some sort. At the very least she could use simple spells.
He also knew that the fiery operative had also decrypted the lines of script and was hot on the little girl's heels.
But most important revelation was that, for whatever reason, the little girl was helping the serial killer. At the very least she was covering for him. She definitely did not want him to get caught.
Jim groaned as his brain struggled to process everything.
He knew that the best lead he had…was the serial killer. If he could find the serial killer, then he could find the girl. Most likely.
And my best bet of finding the serial killer…
Yomikawa turned around and gave the little boy a tight hug. Then she lifted him up in her hands and started walking over to Jim.
…is to work with Lieutenant Yomikawa Aiho.
Jim knew that he could hide his motives from his station chief. He knew that the old jackal probably had other intelligence officers to oversee and probably his own team to manage. He knew that if push came to shove he could claim ignorance and say he didn't know the operative was chasing the little girl.
He could hide the importance of his locket and the girl with ashen hair from the jackals.
Risky, yes, but I can make it work.
Jim saw Yomikawa bantering and chatting with the little boy. He seemed absolutely oblivious to the gravity of the situation. He felt a familiar ache pulsing through his left arm.
But how the fuck am I supposed to hide that from Yomikawa?
He remembered how his station chief had mentioned her by name.
'And yes, she is good. That's the Yomikawa after all.'
Was there supposed to be other Yomikawas? Did Jim just have to get the this particular, nasty one? He should have listened. He should have listened. If a jackal deems it important to mention someone by name...then he should have known it was for a damn good reason.
He saw her eyes already resting him, observing every detail about him, as if mentally reading his mind.
Jim sighed deeply.
At one point in the night he had three advantages in his favor.
Firstly, he knew about the girl and the operative.
Secondly, he knew about the serial killer being a magician of some sort.
Thirdly, he knew about the lines of script on the walls of the warehouse.
Now, he only had one advantage left.
For some reason, Jim felt like it was not going to be enough. He could tell that Yomikawa was absolutely out for blood. If she got her hands on the girl with ashen hair Jim highly doubted that the girl would ever step out a cell again.
He considered telling Yomikawa everything, telling her about the girl and the locket.
But her cold, piercing eyes, staring through him, came back to his mind and he shuddered again. This woman already knew enough about him. He did not want to tell her anymore. And frankly he had no reason to trust her. Clearly she knew about the jackals and the snakes.
There no guarantee that she wouldn't rat him out to them.
He looked at his watch. It was Tuesday, 2:00 AM.
Four days, he thought tiredly, I've been in this city for four fucking days!
"Mr. Stupid, get in the car. But not in the passenger seat! That is reserved for this little gentleman. We're driving to the Anti-Skill HQ."
"Yes, ma'am."
As they got into the car Jim leaned over to Yomikawa.
"You've got a boyfriend, ma'am?"
She smirked.
"My grandfather died when I was three. Figure out the rest for yourself."
She opened the door for the little boy and helped him into his seat.
Jim thought back to his frantic days in Sofia. This was all too familiar.
Out of the frying pan and straight into the fucking fire!
-x-
First uploaded: 7/12/2020
Last modified: N/A
Wordcount: 12,211
Author's Notes:
Was this fun to write?
Kind of…?
Is this fun to read?
Probably not!
But most importantly, is this good story telling?
….most likely not.
Damnit.
It's okay, I know 99% of you skipped here. I don't blame you. I would have done it too, if I wasn't the fucker who wrote this. Sometimes I really want to wipe my mind and let myself read the stuff I write. I bet mind wiped me would call the psychiatric hospital.
Honestly I don't even know why I do this anymore. This chapter should have been short and sweet.I just started typing and then this happened.
I have issues. I hate myself.
At this rate, this arc is going be very loooong.
Frankly I might come back and trim this chapter down. Maybe. For now, enjoy the bloated mess for what it is.