Authors Note: First and Foremost: THIS IS A SEQUEL. I highly recommend reading Wild Fire first, there are going to be things in this story that aren't going to make sense without reading the predecessor. (I.E.; Maleko, Kai, and the Acolytes), but if you choose to read WF or not is, in the end, your choice. I also want to emphasize that this story is canon divergent. The students of DWMA were able to stop Medusa and co from reviving Asura, as such there was never the Kishin arc in this fic.
This story is rated M to be safe due to the amount of violence and other less-than-pleasant topics. There will be sexual content later down the road, but it won't be explicit and will be brief (Due more to the fact that I don't enjoy writing it).
With that out of the way, do enjoy and do let me know what you thought.
Ten years.
Ten years had passed since that fateful, tragic day. Since that battle.
On this day, only ten years ago, the DWMA had won the war against the Acolytes. Ten years since the Witch of the Seas, Kai Palakiko, had died. Ten years since the deaths of so many students, since the snow of Antarctica had turned crimson, soaked in the blood of those who had fought.
The aftermath had been immediate. For the DWMA, they had been more busy than Maka had been used to. The battle may have been won, but that hadn't meant everything could go right back to how it had been.
Death had buried the souls of the students who had died in his expansive room, under the crooked crocks and fake daytime sky. The bodies had been sent back to their families. A lot of calls had been made the day they returned from war. Death had personally informed each family, each loved one, of their loss.
People had screamed and cried. There had been a protest outside the academy within a month, and had lasted weeks. Friends and family had stood at the long stairs yelling and screaming, waving signs and throwing whatever they had on hand at the staff, angry at the school, at the system. Angry at Death for sanding children to fight.
Maka wished she could say that the protests had been all that had entailed in the aftermath, but that would have been a lie.
The Witch of the Seas had died—Poisoned, Stein had surmised after an autopsy—and the Acolytes had not taken that lying down. Those that had escaped the battle had remained active, those that had refrained from joining the fight had lashed out.
A lot of people had died during the fight, a lot of people on both sides. But, even more had died in the following years.
During the first year after victory, things had only gotten worse. Members who had survived had retaliated against the DWMA and against Death in whatever way they could. They killed their neighbors in the name of the Witch of the Sea, had set off bombs in public places, had committed suicide attacks, killed meisters and weapons they caught. The DWMA was still hunting down the lingering members, and only a few years ago had the violence from them truly died down.
Still, so much damage had been done, it would take time to heal. It had taken a long time before those who had been involved could relax, stop looking over their shoulders.
The battle had been horrible, bloody and cruel. Primarily it was human against human, a few witches, but not many. Most souls still blue, not yet a corrupted red. Normal, good people brainwashed through generations of cultic beliefs, believing they were doing the right thing.
Maka had seen the videos of the attacks, had watched the clips of their 'sermons'. She could emphasize, she could see where the anger had come from, that their hate was from a misguided place. Their intentions may have well-meant, wanting a better world.
But, that does not justify their actions, that does not absolve them of the guilt of their crimes. There was blood on their hands, and that wouldn't go away because they meant well.
She could emphasize, but that didn't mean she forgave.
Ten years. That's how much time had passed,
Ten years to put the world in order again. Ten years until the DWMA was able to once again stand firm in the face of opposition by witches, Kishin Eggs, and heretical cults. Ten years until it truly began to recover.
But, even the world needed a distraction. Even if just for a single night, the world had needed something to help forget, and something to honor those who died fighting the Acolytes on Antarctica and the following skirmishes around the world. They needed something to help remind the world of the good that the DWMA stood for.
The Winter Festival was created, eight years ago on the day of the battle in Antarctica. To celebrate victory and honor the dead. A year where all around the world people gathered to celebrate.
And no place was more festive on that one night than Death City, the seat of Lord Death's power, home to many veterans from the Battle of Antarctica. The city always went all out for the Winter Festival, so much so that entire roads were shut down days in advance to set up preparations for festival night. Lanterns in the shape of Death's face illuminated the streets, hanging on wires strung up between buildings and on light posts. Flowers hung from signposts and windows. Ribbons and banners, black and white, billowed in the breeze.
Vendors set up booths and tents all along the main roads. Performers set up little stages, playing music and performing plays. Children dashed between booths, spending their parents money on games and sweets, while the parents fought a futile battle to keep their children in sight and at their sides. Students and teachers got surrounded, people asking to hear stories of the battle, of the Acolytes.
At the top of the stairs to the DWMA a shrine was erected, pictures of all who died fighting the Acolytes encased in flowers stood above the festival as friends and families climbed the steep stairs to honor the their sacrifices.
The air of the night was buzzing with life and delight beneath the laughing moon. The Winter Festival was a night where everyone gathered together for a good time.
Well, most of everyone.
It wasn't that Maka didn't like the festival, it wasn't that at all. She understood the necessity of it, especially for this early on, when wounds were still fresh.
It was just that Maka had been there. She had been out there in the midst of the fight. She had seen classmates die, had watched the blood drench the snow as blue souls hovered in the air, dozens upon dozens of them lingering over dead bodies.
She had nearly died, she had nearly lost Soul. She had been there and watched as BlackStar was carried out, bloodied, his face covered in a drenched cloth, Tsubaki trying hard to look strong and not cry as she helped carry him onto the ship with the other wounded. She had seen Fire bawling as Killik cradled Thunder, screaming for someone to help her, even though the bones of his leg were visible through his tattered pantleg.
She had seen the damage that fight had brought.
She had seen her classmates die. Had seen Maleko die.
Maleko Palakiko, even now, ten years later, it still filled her with heartache. He had been a child, nine years of age, innocent and full of wonder. He was young, naïve, had been brought into the care of the DWMA unaware of the war between witches and humans. He had been brought into the school, not knowing that while he grew close to the students, the DWMA was hunting his mother.
He had been a wild child, but he was kind and generous. The urge to hurt and destroy had not yet come upon him. Maka had, during the short time she had been with him, grown fond of the child. He was a sorcerer, was supposed to be her enemy, but in the end he was something more akin to a little brother. Someone to watch out for and protect. He was such a kind child that it was hard not to grow fond of him. Marie had certainly taken a liking to the child, so had her father, Maka swore it was like he had adopted another child. Which wasn't necessarily bad, if he focused more on Maleko, he'd bother her less.
He was a good kid. He was a sorcerer, but he wasn't evil, he wasn't irredeemable. He was good.
Then he and Soul were kidnapped, and things changed.
Maka still, to this dad, didn't know what happened in that warehouse, nothing certain, only theories. She only knew that the two had been hurt, the two Acolytes who had captured them dead. Maleko had set a fire, had probably spiraled out of control because of the fear, and who could blame a child? He was a kid who was hurt, who was threatened, who's life was at risk, no one could blame him for lashing back, fighting back.
No one would have blamed him for what happened in there.
But, that warehouse incident had changed everything for him. The once cheery and happy boy had become withdrawn and angry, he had stopped talking to others, had locked himself away in his room beneath the school. He had lashed back. He knew. Malako had found out.
Maleko learned the true relationship between the school and witches. He must have learned from the Acolytes. It must have frightened him, made him feel like a mouse in a den of cats, where any day could be his last.
It should have come as no surprise that the boy fled as soon as the chance arrived. No one had been any the wiser, either, not until he had gained far too much ground. He had learned Soul Protect within the school—though how he did, no one knew. Had masked his soul and ran, had kept running, and by the time anyone realized he had gone missing, he was too far to find again. Too well hidden.
Kim saw him in another city miles and miles away. But he had ran away before she could catch him, and she had ultimately lost him again. Maka remembered how worried she had felt when Kim reported the incident—the boy had tried to be a hero. He had intercepted a Kishin Egg and had tried to protect a woman who had been attacked. He likely would have been killed had Kim and Jackie not gotten there when they had.
No one saw them again, no one was sure where he would have popped up next. The school couldn't afford the resources to keep looking for him, they had finally tracked down Kai and the gathering Acolyte forces to the Antarctic. There was no time to waste, and Maleko's retrieval would have to wait.
She hadn't liked it, had felt conflicted after catching speeches by the Acolytes and by Kai. But, ultimately, Maka and Soul had volunteered to go to Antarctica to join the fight.
No one had expected Maleko to be there, to have already reunited with Kai.
Then, just like Kai, he died.
Maka had bore witness to him and Kai falling to the sea as the tower of ice crumbled. She had hoped that he had survived, had hoped that the reason she couldn't sense his soul was because of the drugs the Acolytes had managed to hit her with.
But, when Stein and Sid fished the bodies from the freezing waters, she had to accept reality.
At first, Maka wanted to be angry at him, blame him for dying. She had felt heartbroken over losing a friend, had tried to rationalize that there was something she could have done differently that might have saved him. It had been a rough few months and she might not have recovered as swiftly as she had if not for Crona and Soul. Her grief remained, even now she still mourned him in her heart, but it was manageable now.
She had accepted that, had Maleko survived, he would never have come back with them to the DWMA, not willingly. Though Kai's death was the result of a betrayal, the DWMA held some of the blame, and they would be an easier one to blame. They were his natural enemy, it would be easy to hate them, and there was little doubt that Maleko would, indeed, hate them. The death of his mother would have only driven him further into the arms of the witches and their destructive natures.
Maleko may have very well grown to be one of their worst enemies, fueled by a want for revenge. He'd have the aid of witches who also shared his hate of the DWMA, he'd be able to seize control of the remaining Acolytes as the son of Kai. He'd most likely do anything he could to bring the DWMA to ruin.
And, in the end, Maka wouldn't have been able to be angry at him, because he'd still just be an angry and hurt child trying to avenge his mother.
Maleko had changed her, the Acolytes and that battle had changed her. It had been hard for Maka to go back to how things had been before the bloodshed and slaughtered, to how she had been.
Before, Maka had always held strong to her ideals. DWMA good, unwaveringly so, Lord Death's rule absolute and his decisions unquestionable. Witches bad, evil by design. Then she met Crona, and she learned the world was not black and white, that despite the many they had killed, how far on the path of becoming a Kishin they had been, Crona was still able to become a good person—and they had! Then, Maka met Maleko, and she was allowed to the idea that witches were not all evil, were not all monsters.
Then, she was allowed to entertain the Acolytes perspective.
They followed Kai because of brainwashing that spanned for generations, an ideal nurtured and passed from parent to child. But, it was not based on nothing. It stemmed from a hate of Death, and—they weren't wrong in their feelings. No parent could easily accept that their children were being sent to fight evils that could get them killed.
The had a different world view and were led astray by a witch. They had thought Death was a danger to the world and Kai was their salvation, and had waged war on Lord Death and the DWMA as a response.
And they were killed in retaliation.
Of course, the Acolytes were not good people. Many had become killers, fanatical killers, but, they were still human in the end, not yet Kishin Eggs.
Maka had come to the realization that it was no longer simple, knowing what the right thing to do was, what was right and what was wrong, it wasn't a simple choice anymore. Things weren't black and white, the world was made of greys. There was no more 'this is good' and 'this is bad'. There was no longer a true 'right' choice.
Many of the people they had fought, Maka had to wonder how much choice they had in their lives before they became Kishin Eggs, was there something that had driven them to such crimes, were they believing they were in the right?
Crona, oh sweet Crona, they were a perfect example of grey. They had been raised by Medusa, someone Maka would always view as the worst of the witches, had been raised and conditioned to be a killer, to become a Kishin. And they had been well on the path of making that a reality, living a life of bloodshed and madness, knowing little outside the insanity and terror, marked to be killed for their crimes. They had known no other life because they had never been allowed the chance to.
But, once given the chance to be something different, something better, Crona had blossomed and had become something amazing.
If Crona could change for the better, if Maleko had been good despite his race, then why should others not have that chance of changing? Why was it that killing them came first, questioning them came second?
It wasn't as though she could just stop hunting Kishin Eggs, however. She and Soul were a team, they had made a promise to turn him into a Death Scythe, to make him a greater Death Scythe than her own father had ever been. But, it was harder for her to look at the missions and requests and not question them.
Were the ones requesting a hunt, a kill, truly evil? Was there more to the story than what they had been made privy too? Could they perhaps resolve this without death, and instead giving the target a chance at redemption?
Could it be resolved not with taking a soul, but saving one?
She had grown more careful about the missions she and Soul picked. Hesitant where she would have been decisive. Soul had noticed. Crona had noticed. Both had supported her decision.
The remaining years as students had passed in a blur, and eventually everyone had gone their separate ways.
BlackStar and Tsubaki had gone to Japan soon after graduation, moving back in with Tsubaki's parents to focus on training and aiding Azusa in keeping the local witch covens and yakuza clans from getting out of control. From the letters that Tsubaki sent, BlackStar enjoyed his time there, and her parents adored him.
Kid came back to the city now and then, but he primarily worked around the world, traveling from city to city, country to country with Liz and Patty, communicating mostly through calls and postcards. With Lord Death tethered to the city, Kid did the work his father could not do in person. He was busy, far more than he ever had been as a student. He wasn't too focused on making a Death Scythe out of the sisters, as it had become an accepted fact that they would be his main weapons regardless.
Though they were living a primarily nomadic life, the sisters had taken up jobs, too. Patty apparently took up odd jobs here and there whenever the three were staying in a town for a longer period of time. And Liz had gotten a job with a magazine, writing articles about the cities they went to, the events they got to participate in. Maka always kept an eye out for her articles.
The only ones who truly stayed in the city were Soul, Crona, and Ragnarok. Not that the Demon Sword had a choice. He often complained about how he was stuck here and how he would leave if he could. Maka doubted it, though. Despite all his grumblings, Ragnarok cared for his meister, he wouldn't abandon Crona that easily.
Her relationship with Soul and Crona had continued to grow during the years.
Spirit had suggested that Maka apply to become a teacher at the academy, and Maka had considered it. She was suited to be a teacher, she knew all the materials, had graduated as top of the class—something Ox had mourned for days over—and she felt that she was good at mentoring the younger meister-weapon pairs. But, Maka had ultimately refused.
She didn't want to be anchored to Death City, she loved the city, but she wanted the freedom to leave that she wouldn't have being a teacher. She wanted to be able to go out into the world and do good, take on missions and make a difference. Staying in Death City would mean a better opportunity to choose her missions, especially as she was no longer just blindly accepting that everyone on the list was irredeemably evil.
Some missions, though, even Maka had a hard time trying to see how someone could do something so evil and still be a good person.
"And, so you see, this makes the seventh child in the past month to go missing in the area," Death said, bouncing in his spot as he stood before Maka and Soul, his form bent just slightly as he towered over them. There was a map shown on his mirror, a large area of England circled in red. "A further study showed that there have been over fifty reported abductions in this area in the past two years."
No matter how much Maka may try, she couldn't fathom what reasoning a person might have to justify child abduction.
"You want us to go investigate, correct?" Maka asked, standing straight and stiff before the god, ignoring her own papa who stood at his side.
Death gave a slight bow, "Yes, that is correct. The police have done all that they could that was in their power, but have made no new progress, and so they have asked for one of our own to offer aid. A new perspective on the case that may be what they need to break through," he said. "It will just be the two of you. A bigger group might tip off the kidnappers of our involvement and make them go into hiding, then we might never find a trail."
"Going around taking kids, how uncool can you be?" Soul shook his head, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. His expression was the usual carefree, 'cool boy' face, but Maka could see the underlying anger in his eyes, an unspoken loathing towards the kidnappers. "Not one has come back yet?"
"Unfortunately, none have been found," Spirit said, holding a stack of papers in his hands, glancing through them. "On one hand that is good, there's no body, which means there is a good chance that they are still alive. The police can give you more information on the case when you get down there, we'll be arranging your lodgings in the meantime, as well as some financial assistance."
"Considering that tonight is the Winter Festival, the police there are on high alert with the risk of another child being abducted," Death added.
Maka frowned as he said that, Death was right, the Winter Festival didn't occur only in Death City, but rather all around the world. People were going to be out, the streets bustling, it would be easy to snatch a child who wandered away from their family when the children would be running around all over. The kidnappers could disguise themselves as a vendor or a performer, lure the children away and then, poof, another kidnapping.
"There's no way we'll get England before morning," Maka warned, already doing the math in her head, calculating the time it was in Nevada, the time it took to get to England, no, they'd arrive by morning at the earliest. Long after the festival, unable to stop anything if another child was kidnapped.
"I'm aware," Death's tone hadn't lost that jovial tone even in this situation. "I would have arranged for you two to head out sooner, but until now the British Government had refused aid, wanting to solve this themselves. The DWMA's aid has only just been requested."
They couldn't do anything if the government hadn't requested their aid.
That had been one of the changes implemented after the war. The U.N. had held a meeting and come to an agreement that the DWMA had too much free reign to intervene as they pleased. They had implemented a vote and the majority had agreed; the DWMA could not intervene in non Kishin Egg or Witch cases without their aid being asked first.
Because of that new ruling, they couldn't just throw teams into situations without consent, nor could they take charge. They would be under the command whoever was in charge of the case, and could be dismissed if the agency in charge felt they were no longer of use to the case.
Even so, this kind of mission was one where Maka could do and not feel doubts over. Kidnapping children—there wasn't any sort of justification that'd absolve them of guilt.
"When we get there, where are we going?" Soul asked.
Clapping his hands together, the reaper gave them a nod, "Yes, yes. We've booked your plane and train tickets, you'll be heading to Pocklington. Small town, yes, but it's the epicenter of the kidnappings. You'll be meeting with Detective Cain from the local police department, he'll update you on everything that's going on. He's the lead detective on this case, so you will be working closely with him."
Spirit crossed his arms, his face a scowl. "I've heard that this detective is a real hit with the ladies. So be careful, Maka. Don't fall for any of this jerk's charms."
It took all of Maka's willpower to not roll her eyes at him. She was a grown woman now, a grown woman in a committed relationship, and her father still acted like this. It was annoying. "I can take care of myself, papa," she reminded him. "Besides, I'm not going to fall for some guy I've just met."
Even if she was the sort of person to believe in love at first sight, what could this detective have to offer that could make her toss aside the loves she already has for him? Besides, that was beside the point. "Is there anything else—anything important," she added with a side-eyed glance to her father, "that we need to know?"
Death was still bouncing in place, bubbly, uncomfortably so. "Nothing that the good detective can't fill you in on. We have already taken the liberty to pay for your travel fares and lodging. All that's left to be done is for you two to pack. Your plane leaves in three hours."
"Make sure you call me once you land, too!" Spirit added, which Maka promptly ignored.
Instead, she gave Lord Death a bow. "Understood. We will head out as soon as possible."
"We'll catch these kidnappers in no time," Soul added with a crooked smirk and a nod towards their superiors. "Those kids are going to be home, safe and sound, before you know it."
At the completion of the mission debriefing, the two had gone straight to their shared apartment to pack up, and to inform Blair that they would be gone for at least a few weeks, maybe longer, and so she was in charge of keeping the apartment in their absence. Maka also had to make sure Blair would have money for groceries any emergency expenses. Sure, the cat made money at the club, but it wasn't a lot in the long run, especially with how bad Blair could be when it came to money.
Because of how long the investigation had been going, Maka had packed for a long trip, stuffing two suitcases full of clothes and other necessities.
But, for the most part, the rest of the time had been uneventful. They had packed, they had boarded the plane and sat through a sixteen hour flight. It had been boring, cramped, and Maka had read through three books in that span of time. They had landed in Yorkshire and then had to wait for and then take an hour long bus ride to Pocklington
It was well past morning and into the afternoon when they had finally arrived in the small town.
Carrying her bags, Maka and Soul had an easier time getting off the bus than they had getting on. There were a lot less at the Pocklington stop, probably because it was such a small town it had a lot less traffic than the cities.
Her body felt cramped and sore from sitting for so long, and she felt the fatigue hitting her like a hammer. "Well, here we are," she said, glancing to Soul. The people didn't seem too upset or anxious or upset, so perhaps nothing had transpired during their travels? "Should we hit the hotel first, or go to the station?"
Soul yawned, somehow still sleepy despite the nap he took on the plane. "We should check in with the station; let them know we've arrived," he licked his lips and moved aside for a mother and son to walk by. "That way they can contact us if something happens while we go settle in at the hotel."
"Right. Good plan," Maka nodded and started walking. They'd need a map, or maybe they could ask someone to point them in the direction of the police station. "Let's give Crona a call when we get to the hotel later. I want to know how their mission is going." Plus, it had been a while since she got to hear their voice; the demon swordsman had been sent on a mission by Lord Death two months prior, and since then they only got to talk over the phone a small number of times.
Soul laughed as he slung one of his bags over the shoulder, "I'm sure Ragnarok is making in entertaining for everyone involved," he joked, and then gave a shake of his head while smiling. "But, yeah. I'd love to check up on them, too. Make sure their doing okay."
They could talk, maybe not for too long—Crona was probably busy, and a lot of the specs of their mission was classified. But, even just a short call to say 'hello' 'do your best' 'we love and miss you' would be enough.
Yeah, Maka was looking forward to the call.
But, before Maka could take another step forward, a hand landed on her shoulder, bringing her to a stop and roughly tugging her backward.
Instinctively, Maka reeled away, wrenching herself free from the vice grip of whoever had grabbed hold of her, dropping her bags to the ground as she reached for Soul, readying herself to face some thug who thought he was trying to be tough by harassing and mugging them.
However, it wasn't some street thug who had stopped them. Not even a witch or Kishin Egg, though that was obvious by the blue soul.
When Maka turned around, who she saw was a man, a good few years older than her and Soul, probably in his early thirties if she had to guess. Dressed nicely all things considered, in a white button up and black slacks, holding a suit jacket over a shoulder. The stranger had a handsome enough face, thin and clean shaven, with long hair that was a shade more orange than red tied back in a ponytail. He looked rough, unfriendly, but not a thug.
His eyes were gold in color, yet much like Souls in shape and vibe. He stared at the two impassively, bags under the eyelids. With one hand hanging onto the jacket he had, the other, the one that had grabbed Maka, pulled back to hang at his side. Maka stared at him in return.
"Maka Albarn? Soul Evans?" the stranger asked after giving them an unimpressed once over.
Soul took a step forward, staring up at the man with a frown. "Yeah. You are?" he asked carefully. Like Maka, he seemed a bit suspicious of being stopped and called out by a stranger. Plus, it was clear on his face he hadn't appreciated Maka being tugged back like that.
To answer Souls question, a police badge was plucked from the hip and held up for them to see. "Elijah Cain," the stranger introduced. "You two will be coming with me."
It wasn't a request.
Leaving them little time to speak or process, the detective had turned away and was walking, badge back where it had hung on his belt. He didn't wait to make sure the two followed, but it was clear that they had little choice in the manner.
Soul frowned as he helped Maka pick up her bags. "That's detective Cain?" he muttered.
Maka frowned, but followed the man a good few steps behind. They had only heard of him through the debriefing, and that had given her an idea of what he might be like. The reality was very different. "I expected him to be a bit…"
"Less of a dick?" Soul finished for her.
"Yeah," Maka chuckled. "Papa said he was charming, but I don't see the charm anywhere."
Elijah didn't even turn to look at them. "How about you two quit your jawing and pick up the pace?" he asked. "Or did you forget you're here to work and not on vacation?"
He was unpleasant, and Maka was finding that she already wasn't a fan of his. However, she did quiet down and walk a bit faster; as much of a grump the detective seemed to be, he had a point. They were here to help find missing kids, not play around. With how stressful this must be for him, she couldn't blame him if he was a bit short fused.
So, she followed Elijah through the streets with Soul scowling at her side, making sure to keep any snide remarks to herself. Now was not the time or place to be snippy.
Eventually, they were lead to the precinct, a rather nondescript building on the outside. Elijah only had a few words to say to a few other cops as they entered, taking the pair to a glass meeting room with a long table over the center of it.
There were a number of whiteboards littered with case notes, scene photos, and names. A few cardboard boxes were on the table, stuffed full of files that Maka could only assume were about the case. A few cops were already in there, talking and discussing theories while sipping on cold coffee and flipping through files. The trashcan was filled with empty Styrofoam coffee cups.
The people in the room looked tired and stressed.
"Those are the files," Elijah said, dragging one of the boxes over and shoving it towards Maka. "At least, some of the files. Look through them, we've a list of people of interests, but no solid suspects yet for each kidnapping. What have you been told so far?"
Maka picked up the first file in the box and flipped it open, skimming the contents. "Kids have been getting kidnapped. You've had about fifty in the past two years, all seemingly connected," she answered, closing the file and picking up another. It's information was fairly similar to the other file; child had been alone, parents had left them for a few minutes to do something, and when they got back, the child was gone.
Takign a seat, Elijah threw his jacket over the back of the chair. "Half right," he said. "Three have been fifty-eight reported cases of children going missing in a thirty-five kilometer radius of this city. All within two years. Considering not all the parents actually care, the exact number is undoubtedly higher."
That didn't make Maka feel better.
Soul took a seat, leaning back and staring at Elijah coolly. "It's been two years, why haven't you asked for help sooner?" he asked. "You waited a real long time to ask Lord Death to send someone to aid you, this isn't an attempt to save face, is it?"
He was baiting him, looking for a reaction, but Elijah gave him none. His gaze wasn't stoic, it wasn't uncaring. It was tired. A look of a man who didn't have a single fuck left to give. "You're barking up the wrong tree, mate. Call it bureaucratic bullshit," Elijah reached to grab a coffee from the table, not caring that it belonged to someone else or was already cold and half-drank. "Politicians wanting to protect their bloody pride by refusing outside help or some other bullshit."
"You don't sound like you agree with their choice," Sou said.
"I don't. They sat on their hands too fucking long and look where we are now," Elijah responded, downing the cold coffee in one go, slamming the empty container back on the table. "Should have called for aid when it became clear that these kidnappings were connected. But, no, they waited two years. So yeah, I don't agree with their choice."
Maka took a seat across from him, closing the file and staring at the detective. "Who was the first confirmed victim?" she asked.
A pause of silence filled the room before Elijah pushed himself up and dragged over a different box. He said nothing as he rummaged through it, but eventually found the right file as he withdrew a thick folder and slid it over to the pair. "Amanda Lewis," he answered. "Twelve years old, resident of Pocklington. Left for school but never made it home."
Maka took the file and opened it, looking at the girl in the photo. Small and young, long black hair and dark eyes. What Maka noticed first was it was a school photo, not a personal one, not the kind a family would have kept in the home. She moved the paper to look at the other photos; her school was listed, her main route home, her house, her room. A list of friends and classmates and teachers.
Soul leaned over to look at the file and then glance at Maka. "What's going on in that brain of yours, Maka?"
She frowned, looked at the papers. This was the official start of it all. The first child who went missing. If the two of them were joining the case, they needed to start at the beginning. "Detective Cain, would it be possible for us to speak with the Lewis family tomorrow?"
Elijah raised a brow, "You have their statements in the file."
"I have questions I'd like to ask that aren't found here," Maka responded.
There was a pause, and then Elijah once again shrugged. "We would like to avoid causing more distress to the families," he said slowly. "But, if you're sure it's important, I'll make the call and arrange a meeting. Anything else you need?"
Maka began reorganizing the files, putting them back into their boxes. "Can we take these boxes with us? So we can read them and be caught up tomorrow?" she asked. They needed to familiarize themselves with the details of the case, and it'd be easier for them to do so when they get to their hotel rooms rather than try to read through the files right here and now.
"We've got digital copies, so go ahead and take the boxes. Just don't loose anything," Elijah nodded, grabbing the other two boxes and shoving them towards Soul. "That's all for today, you two can head to your hotel rooms or whatever, I'll get you in the morning." He gave them both a level look. "This isn't going to be like hunting monsters, so I hope you two know what you're doing."
Soul chuckled as he stood up, picking up two of the boxes, carefully balancing them in his arms. "If that's your way of saying we aren't up to snuff, you'll be in for a treat. We're going to find those kids."