A/N: Awwright!  Chapter 10 at last!  Oh my, we're getting into the double-digit chappies.  Heh, this story has now officially become my baby.  Thank you all so much for hanging with me this long! 

My my, the 40-review mark has been broken!  ^_^ I tell you, folks, this fic would have just buggered off if it hadn't been for you lads and lasses.  I owe all of ye many thanks!

The references to Spam belong to Bill Engvall.  I highly recommend his comedy.  Don't drink anything while listening to him, or it'll come out your nose.  Yes, he's that funny.

Woo hoo!  Long chapter!  And for a reason…*evil grin*

Cheers,
~Rumer ("Pork, water, and mechanically separated chickens.  Where I'm from, that's roadkill.")

Autopsy Report: Chapter 10

I usually don't drink coffee.  Never really liked the stuff.  The deepest I delved into the world of java only went to cappuccinos, and I was quite content with that.  But there I was, slugging down a to-go Styrofoam cup full of decaf.  Why?  I have no idea.  Maybe to help me concentrate on something other than the last few hours.  Yeah, I could have used a bit of nepenthe at the moment, and the closest that came to that other than a strong vodka was coffee.  Sure, drugs worked too, but I didn't want my system ripped to hell from one acid trip.  I prefer the coffee, thank you very much.

Balancing the cup of coffee in one hand and trying to steer with the other, I sped through the darkened streets of Brahms.  Finally, on my way home.  I just hoped that my apartment had been cleaned up.  When I'd left in the morning, the cleaning crew had promised to make it perfect, just like it had been.  I wanted to see how they defined perfect.  And my standards are exceptionally high.  I took another swig of java and blinked, trying to clear my contacts.  No use getting the re-wetting drops, I could see the apartment complex.  Home again, home again, jig-a-de-jig.  Good ol' Colonial Grand Apartment Complex.  1030 Grand View Boulevard, Brahms.  Probably one of the nicer apartments I've had the pleasure to inhabit.

I pulled into the complimentary parking garage and turned off the ignition.  Downing the last of the coffee, I opened the door and stepped out into the cool night air.  If anyone ever asked which time of day I preferred, night would have been my answer.  The day is far too chaotic for me.  But the past few weeks were slowly changing my opinion on that little matter.  I walked to the complex and headed up the stairs.  Room 302, that's me.  I took a set of keys from my pocket, selected the brass one that opened the door, and used it accordingly.

The apartment smelled like soap, fresh laundry, and vanilla.  I tossed my briefcase and jacket on the cream leather couch and pulled the Ruger from its shoulder holster.  Time to perform the customary check of the house.  I checked every nook and cranny, making sure that nothing was hiding unseen.  I'd started checking the house since Cybil made her unannounced visit.  I tend to kill people who show up at my door or who I find in my house without my say so, it's beneficial to both parties.  Sort of.

I quietly entered the bedroom, holding the Ruger in a two-handed grip.  I snapped the light on with one fluid motion.  The room lit up, exposing only my queen bed, dresser, nightstand, and desk.  I glanced in the corners; nothing.  I looked at the ground.  All the blood had been expertly cleaned from the creamy white carpet and my Oriental rugs.  Ha, my pillow had also been replaced.  I smiled to myself.  Then I headed for the bathroom.  I did the same thing as before, snapping on the light, and looking around.  Nothing.  The procedure repeated until every room in the apartment was deemed free of unwanted visitors, and I locked the door.  I never locked the door as soon as I got inside.  You never know when you need to make a quick exit.  Yawning, I stooped to the floor to pick up the mail.  One of the good things about this hotel was the mail service.  No community mailbox for us, no sir.  I scooped up the letters and stood up in one movement and walked to the kitchen.  I poured some water into my cappuccino maker and flipped the on switch.  The scent of cappuccino slowly filled the kitchen.  Letting the aroma fill my lungs, I slumped in one of the swivel chairs around my little kitchen table.  I picked up the little pile of mail and leafed through them nonchalantly.  Bill, bill, letter from the theater, bill.  I opened the letter from the theater and pulled out two tickets to Jekyll & Hyde.  I grinned.  My ticket order came through for the Broadway musical coming through town.  There were two tickets.  I hadn't remembered ordering two, but oh well.  Maybe I'd ask Dr. Haley to the show.  He'd get to give me another favor, and that would be most beneficial.

The cappuccino maker stopped gurgling.  I picked my favorite mug from the counter (A black mug with the words 'I may be a cold-hearted bitch but I'm good at it' emblazoned on the side) and filled it with the mocha-colored liquid.  I took a sip.  Ah, lovely.  Cappuccino may not be the nectar of the gods but it was close. 

I was halfway through the mug when I heard the letter flap creak open and snap shut.  I put the mug down and headed to the door.  Mail, at this hour?  Surely you jest.  Sure enough, there was a brown, bulky envelope laying on the floor, directly under the mail slot.  I walked over and scooped up the envelope.  No return address; no address at all, in fact.  I felt the bulges in the envelope carefully.  I couldn't feel any wires at all, so I ruled out it being a bomb.  Never rule out any possibilities with an unmarked package unless you're absolutely sure.  I was absolutely sure.  Puzzled, I opened the door and peered out.  No one was there.  No one on either side of the door, no one down either hall.  Nothing at all.  Hmm.  I closed the door and locked it.  Turning my attention to the package, I walked back to the kitchen table and set my prize in front of my chair.  Snatching a pair of scissors from my designated odds and ends drawer, I snipped open an end of the envelope and gently tapped out its contents.

The first thing that fell out was a pyramid-shaped thing.  It looked like a cross between a trinket and a paperweight.  It was about two inches on each side, and had a square base with four sides slanting up to pyramid formation.  Each side was made up of four smaller triangles inside the larger one.  I toyed with the thing absentmindedly, admiring its rusted copper/bronze coloring.  After a few minutes of trying to figure out what it was and failing, I put the pyramid to the side and turned my attention to the other thing that fell out of the envelope.  It was a small, hand-held radio with an antenna.  Cute.  It had a clip on the back for fastening it to your belt and had no earphone ports.  Darn.  It looked like the sort of thing construction workers used.  It was a bit battered and chipped from use, and when I turned it on, nothing happened.  No music, no static, nothing.  Well, that sucked.  Annoyed, I put the radio with the pyramid and felt around the envelope for anything else.  Nothing.  I felt right down into the corners and found a slip of paper.  Curious as I am, I pulled it out.  One side was blank, but the other side had writing.  It was done in a graceful cursive with peacock-blue ink.  But that wasn't what scared me.

What scared me was the fact that it was from Harry Mason.

Kira,

You asked me about what happened in Silent Hill.
I pray these will help you in your search for the
truth.
However, I must warn you that the consequences
for delving too deeply are paid in something much
more valuable than coin.
Blood, in this case, is a worthy substitute.

I wish you well on your research.

Cordially,
Harry Mason

P.S.  I'll be expecting you sometime around noon.
Do try to be on time.


I put the note down with shaking hands and took a sip of my cappuccino.  So much for getting some sleep.

***

Approximately five refills of cappuccino later, I slumped over the kitchen table, defeated and victorious at the same time.  I'd called Dr. Haley and managed to wangle another questioning session with Harry tomorrow and 12 sharp.  Punctuality is my middle name, eh?  It was quite a feat; I had to promise him not only the ticket to the broadway, but dinner beforehand and another favor to top it off.  Usually I'm a shrewd bargainer, but under the circumstances, what I didn't need was his downright refusal of any terms.  So I didn't push my luck.  Note to self: Save your pennies, Kira.  You'll be living off broke food for a while.  Macaroni & Cheese, Hamburger Helper, and Spam.  Yum yum.  I particularly detested Spam.  After a long period of thought, I figured out that it was an acronym.  I also figured out what it stood for: Stuff Posing As Meat.  Hey, it's right on target as far as description goes.

Try as I might, I simply couldn't figure out what the little pyramid was.  I toyed with screwdrivers, pliers, and wrenches on it, trying to deduce what it could be used for.  Upon finding no holes or separation points anywhere, I decided it was a paperweight and left it at that.  When I examined the radio, I found that nothing was out of place, nothing missing or damaged.  It should have worked perfectly, but simply chose not to.  Even when I changed the battery, nothing happened.  Once I heard a faint echo of white noise, but that faded as quickly as it came.  Oh well.  If I couldn't make it work, no one could.  And I'm a little miss fix-it.  Repair books are wonderful things.  You learn as you go through life that it's a lot cheaper to repair your car's fan belt when you do it yourself.  Logical, no?

I downed the remains of my sixth refill and yawned.  It was 10:30 PM, time for good little girls to be heading to bed.  So, being the obedient girl I was, I went.  Maybe I could get a bit of sleep before meeting a madman. You need your wits about you in that sort of situation, although I was beginning to doubt Harry's insanity.  Crazy men don't use the word 'cordially'.  That's a big hint right there.  Never ignore the details.  They alone could save your ass.  I knew that for a fact.

***

Believe it or not, I did manage to sleep.  And my oh my, I didn't dream.  Thank God.  I don't think I could have handled another dream.  In any case, I awoke feeling refreshed, and spent the morning trying to figure out what the hell I was gonna do at 12 PM sharp.  Because I wasn't planning on doing any office work today, I dressed in nice black jeans, an ivy green polo shirt, knee-high black socks and black leather riding boots.  My definition of casual differed from most peoples', but it usually didn't leave any bad impressions.  That was good.  You don't want potential clients to fear you before you can pick their pockets, do you?  Of course not.  And with prices these days, people guarded their purses.  They had to deem you trustworthy before they employed you.  Moi, untrustworthy?  Surely you jest.  I studied Dante, and I did not want to wind up somewhere in Judecca.  Hanging out with Cassius in the afterlife may sound cool, but you reconsider when you're submerged beneath an icy lake for all eternity.  Not my cup of tea.  Although those in Judecca would welcome one.  It gets cold down there, and they need all the heat they can get.

Smoothing back my hair, I grabbed my satchel and keys and headed for the door.  The satchel had all I needed for the day:  The pyramid, radio, recorder, notebook, pen, and a bit of money.  Oh yeah, and a gun.  A tiny Derringer, to be precise.  Not as conspicuous as the Ruger, and a hell of a lot more destructive.  One blast from that baby would find you kissing your abdominal organs goodbye, so that was my backup gun.  Besides a sawed-off shotgun and a mini-Uzi.  Of course, those had been gifts from a weapons maniac friend of mine.  I always considered him to be a connoisseur of the weapons business.  His house had more guns, swords, and other toys than both a medieval and nuclear base combined.  He'd also given me a set of throwing knives, which I had yet to try out.  I myself am in love with the martial arts, and have a black belt in karate to prove it.  People with my attitudes tended to get into a lot of fights, and only the lucky win some if any.  I suppose that would make me a miracle, because I've won every fight I'd ever been in.  It's developed a bit of a reputation, and it was a standard I had to live up to.  The people who couldn't protect themselves and had my attitudes couldn't maintain it.  Where are they now?  Oh, that's right: dead.

A few minutes later I was on the road, driving the hour trip it takes to get to Kipling.  As much as I wanted to take the scenic route, I'd promised to be on time.  Considering what I owed Jay already, he'd skin me alive if I'd altered it even a tiny bit.  Jay was like that, but it was worth it.  I was getting what needed to be done done, and that was all that counted.

I switched on the radio.  Flipping around the stations for a bit (happening upon "Desert Rose" and saying a loud "Like hell!"), I settled for a country station.  Yeah, the tough-as-nails forensic pathologist likes country.  Especially Clint Black.  The song I caught was one of my favorites, "Like the Rain".  Even though I didn't care for the subject of love, the song is just damned incredible.  I soon found myself singing along, and as if on cue, a formation of nimbus clouds formed directly ahead.  On the last refrain, raindrops started to spatter on the windshield.  What timing.  I switched on the wipers and drove on into the heart of the brewing storm.  Most people would get scared in a situation like this.  Not me.  I get mad.  Some people say you can't control nature, and I wholeheartedly agree.  My only problem is that people accept whatever they're dealt.  Not me.  I fight it and beat it.  My attitude?  Bring-it-on. 

I set my jaw and drove into the heart of the tempest.

***

An hour later I was standing in Jay's office.  I was soaked, but proud.  Heh, no storm could get the better of moi.

"You're drenched, Kira," Jay said, raising an eyebrow.  "That's perseverance for you."  He held out a small hand towel.  "Try to dry yourself.  It would be bad if you caught a cold and spread it among the patients."

"Not snow or sleet, rain or hail can stop Kira T. Devereaux from doing her duty."  I saluted, then took the little towel and patted at my hair.

"Kira T. Devereaux?" I stopped rubbing the towel on my head.  Oh no.  "What's the T. stand for?"

I began to feel myself blush.  I hated my middle name.  "Tabris."

"Hmm."  Jay grinned.  "What kind of a name is that?"

"Mine.  But if you don't shut up about it, I'll have to change it to 'kick-ass'."

"You probably would."  He chuckled.  "Kira Tabris Devereaux.  Doesn't really flow, does it?"

I was getting pissed.  "Can I just go see Harry now?  It would be better for you to let me do my business and leave before the director's position gets unexpectedly vacant.  Know what I mean?" I said, looking daggers at him the whole time.

Jay held up both hands in surrender.  "You win.  Let's go."

So again we made the trek to the Tomb.  Nothing had really changed.  The stone was still stone, the metal still metal, the mildew smell still smelled like mildew.  We got to the guard station quickly and quietly, just like last time.  There was still a hell of a lot of guns and ammo, just like last time.  Harry was still in the last cell, just like last time, and there was a chair in front of it, just like last time.  My, the mundanity of it all.  Before I went through the last gates, though, I switched on my pocket recorder and put it in my coat pocket.  Blackmail manufacturing device ready to go.  I reached Harry's cell and found him leaning on the wall with one arm, the other on his hip.  One leg crossed over the other, and I was almost shaken by the casuality of his demeanor today.  He wore a smirk on his lips and a fiery glare in his eyes.  Yep, they still had the ring of gold.  His hair had gotten a tad greasier, though, so it shone with an oily glare.

"You're seven minutes late, Kira.  I was wondering what was keeping you."  Nope, Harry hadn't changed either.

"There's a storm raging outside.  I was a bit delayed from the weather.  And from my watch, I'm only two minutes late.  Be happy I came at all."

Harry gave a short laugh.  "You would have come anyway.  You were told to, weren't you?  Not by me, but someone else."

I raised an eyebrow.  "Yeah.  My boss.  I didn't give a damn about what you thought."

"But you came when I told you to.  That's rather fascinating."

"Cut the small-talk.  I came to ask you about these."  I reached in my satchel and pulled out the pyramid and the radio.  "Seeming that you sent them to me, I thought that you'd know what they were."

"Oh, you brought my little gifts?  Good.  Well, it's quite simple, really.  The pyramid there is a holy relic, and the radio is a detector.  That's all."

"Please, explain."

"Certainly.  The relic you have in your left hand is called a Flauros.  It is named after the fallen angel, Flauros, and it is used to contain/exorcise demons.  The radio in your right hand sends out a signal every time you meet an enemy.  It works on a…subliminal level, if you will.  Both items were with me while I stayed at Silent Hill."

I hoped the recorder was getting this.  "Did you use them?  And for what purpose?"

"Hmm.  The radio detected my enemies when I roamed the town, and the Flauros ensnared the main enemy for me.  It is a relic of very powerful positive astral omnipresence, an avatar of justice and judgment.  Although…I did regret doing so later."  Harry looked away.

"What does all the holiness have to do with it?"  I asked quickly.

Harry fixed his stare on me again.  "Let's test your knowledge of angels, shall we?  Do you know who Samael is?"

I shook my head no.

"Samael is considered both an evil and good angel, he is known as the chief ruler of the fifth heaven. He was known to be the angel sent by God to carry the soul of Moses at the time of his death.  Therefore, he is an angel of death.  However, he was a fallen angel, and was within the ranks of Lucifer himself."

"A demon," I murmured.

"Correct.  Now, did you know there was a cult that existed in Silent Hill a long time ago…and that most of the townspeople were members?"

I was flabbergasted.  Again, I shook my head no.

"People would hold religious ceremonies and would perform sacrifices to Samael.  And about twenty-two years ago, they decided to create Samael reborn in the body of a newborn child."

Okay, now this was getting ridiculous.  But I was curious.  I nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"A child was born.  She matured, and with her the demon grew as well.  However, when the time of the summoning was upon them, the cultists discovered that the child contained only half of Samael's spirit.  Raging from their error, they burned the child to near death.  They meant to kill her, but somehow, the child wouldn't die.  The spirit of Samael wouldn't allow death quite yet.  So the cultists made another child.  The other half.  And the other half was what I went to Silent Hill to find."

I stifled a gasp.  He had gone looking for his daughter.  "Cheryl…" I said softly.

"That's right.  You're on the ball today, Kira.  Now tell me.  Who do you think the other half was?  You've had her as your client recently."

I thought.  I tried to remember all the autopsies I'd performed, and found myself remembering Alessa.  How I thought that she had no reason to die except for her burns…

"Alessa…?"  I said nervously.

"I say, Kira, you're sharp as a tack.  I was thinking to give you three guesses.  But there was no need, as you can see.  The rest I'll leave you to figure out.  Compare DNA.  Do your thing.  You'll figure out everything else on your own."  Harry turned his back on me and walked slowly to the back of the cell.

"Harry!"  Harry stopped.

"Who were the cultists?"  I said softly, but forcefully.  "Tell me.  Please."

Harry looked over his shoulder and gave me a sly grin.  "Do what I said, and you'll find out.  You're a smart girl.  It shouldn't take you long.  I don't think I'll be seeing you anytime soon.  That's fine…that's how it's meant to be."  He hesitated.  "You never did tell me your full name, Kira."

"Kira T. Devereaux."

"Tsk tsk.  What a middle name.  T."

"It's Tabris."  I winced.  "I hate it."

Harry turned around with a surprised expression on his carved features.  "An angelic name and you don't like it?  Pity.  The most important names are always wasted on the ignorant."  Seeing my aghast expression, he added, "Tabris is the angel of free will.  You should be proud to have a name like yours."

"After your speech about angels turning to demons, I don't think so."

Harry sighed.  "Sacred mind, degraded by logic.  Go about your business, miss forensic pathologist."  He lay down on his cot and turned to face the wall.  That was apparently my signal to leave.

"Goodbye, Harry Mason."  I walked away down the hall without looking back.  Some angel I am.

***

Somehow I managed to get back to Brahms without a hitch.  It had stopped raining, which left the roads a bit slick, but nothing unmanageable.  In total silence I guided the Audi into the clinic parking lot.  I parked and headed into the building.  Immediately, I made my way to Dr. Lecter's office.  When I got there, I knocked twice and entered.  "I have some things that might interest you, Elwood."

Elwood pushed up his designer glasses and looked at me with an icy stare.  "Did you talk to Mason?"

"I did.  I got more than I bargained for, too."  I put the mini-cassette, the Flauros, and the radio on the desk.  Elwood jumped up like he'd been shocked.

"Jesus, Kira!  You got solid evidence.  Stay here, I'll get Dr. Pridemoore."  He left the office quicker than a jackrabbit on a date.  He came back mere moments later with not only Dr. Pridemoore, but with Sheriff Drake as well.  Oh, great.  The more the merrier.  Jaina, of course, had something to say.

"Well done, Dr. Devereaux!  This should help us greatly."  She took the mini-cassette and put it in her pocket.  Note to self: Dr. Pridemoore owes me TWO mini-cassettes.  "Sheriff Drake, you can take the solid evidence.  Do your thing."  Jaina swept out of the room.  Dr. Lecter followed her.  Great, now it was just me and the sheriff of Podunk County.  He scooped the two items into two plastic baggies and put them in an attaché case that rested by the side of the desk.  Then he spoke.

"Miss, on behalf of the Brahms police department, I'd like to thank you for your contribution to this case.  I know how stressful this must have been for you, not being in the proper authority to do most of it, and I'd like to take the opportunity to inform you that you're relieved from the remainder of the case."

I blinked.  "Isn't there anything else I can do?  Anything I can do to help?  At all?"  Like hell I was giving up this soon.

"Yes, miss, you can.  You can stay the hell out of our way."

I must not have heard that last part right, because I shook my head and blinked several times.   "Pardon, sheriff, what did you just say to me?"

"I told you to keep your nose out of this from now on.  What part of that didn't you understand?  Formaldehyde get to your brain or something?"

Some sheriff!  I was getting really pissed.  Everyone knew better than to talk to me like that.  My vision began to get an edge of red.  Damn bastard.  "Excuse me, but I've done more than anyone on this case!  I'm not a cop, but I'm damned sure not gonna just sit around and dissect my corpses without getting a line about what's happening!  If that's what you think, you're wrong, dude!"

Now it was his turn to get mad.  He started cursing me to high heaven and low hell before Dr. Lecter burst in.  Perfect timing, bud.

"What the hell is going on?" he half-shouted.  "Kira, what happened?"

"Ask him," I growled.  "Someone's mother forgot to teach him some manners and humility when addressing a lady."

The sheriff opened his mouth to say something and I held up a hand.  "Just shut up.  I'm outta here.  You can take care of this, Dr. Lecter."  I swept through the door and down the hall, and somehow found myself at the front of the building.

"Kira!"  I turned around and saw Dr. Lecter running to catch up with me.  I let him.  "Kira!  What happened?"

"What do you think?  I was royally insulted and I didn't take it!  God, who voted for that IDIOT anyway?  Good Lord, I've done more than anyone on this and now I'm just being blown off!  Is that fair?!  God, I hope not."  I started backing out into the parking lot, still talking.  "I've given my warning and I've contributed all I'm going to.  Your fate is now your own.  I don't give a shit anymore, so for all I care you all can just drop dead!"

It's funny who says things and the way they turn out, because at that moment, I remember seeing the blur of something big coming up really fast.  It hit me and I blacked out.

Famous last words, eh?

I hoped not.

~~~

Reviews=More Chapters!  Which I bet you all want, eh?