A/N: Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Rei-Sama…Happy birthday to me!

Whee!  Birthday, nyo!  Since I'm the one who's supposed to be getting presents, it seems a bit off that I'm giving you, the readers, another chapter.  A present.  Oh well…I'm just a generous person.  (Audience: "Like hell!")  But in any case, everyone's happy, ne?  Ne.  Sooo…without further ado, I present to you chapter fifteen.  I'm off to eat cake and ice cream and open presents.  Yayisms!

Oh, by the by, you can buy James' t-shirt here.  Hee hee.  Dress like the psychopath!  You know you want to!

Pax!
~Rumer ("Joyeaux anniversaire…Quel age as-tuuuuuuuuuuu?")

Autopsy Report: Chapter Fifteen

The Mercifully Damned Bookstore was a small store on the corner of Raegan and Black.  Black, heavy-looking curtains shielded the inside from any outsider's prying eye, and the only thing distinguishing it from an abandoned Hot Topic was the neon-red sign that proclaimed the store's name.  I parked my Audi several blocks away, out of the obviously bad neighborhood.  Hey, better safe than sorry.  I didn't want to come back and find my car on blocks.  Nope, that would more break my day than make it.  And it would break other things too.  Like the face of the punk who was responsible.  Oh, I'd have fun hunting that kid down and hurting him…but that was exactly the reason I took the extra five minutes and parked away from the hot zone.  Apparently people don't like getting beaten up over vandalism…and it's not exactly…legal.  I've said it before and I'll say it again- rock on, Fifth Amendment.

I'd gone home and changed before going out.  Business suits weren't common around this neck of the woods, but faded black jeans, a blood-red tank top, and a long leather overcoat was.  The black combat boots set the whole ensemble off with a bang.  Or was it the buckled wristband?  Whatever the case, I blended in perfectly.  Just another punk.  Me, a punk?  Naw.  I felt in my pockets and made sure the Ruger was still there.   It was.  Good.  You never know.  The worn wooden handle of my bread knife nudged my ribs as I walked, but I didn't mind.  Didn't need to feel for my secondary weapon, it made its presence known.  I felt the light bulge in my coat pocket.  The radio and Flauros were still there as well, just in case.  Again, you never know.  I crossed over in front of the store and without a second glance, pulled the tarnished steel handle forward and stepped inside.

A heavy wave of incense washed over me the second I set foot in the door.  It clouded my senses, as if it was drawing a heavy curtain over all my instincts.  My eyes watered with the strength of the scent.  The room was dark already, and the tears weren't making it any better.  So, I closed my eyes for a moment and focused on clearing my vision.  It worked; when I opened my eyes, the atmosphere didn't cloud up as much.  Point for me.  I looked around the room slowly, letting my vision adjust to the dim lighting.  The store looked like something out of an ancient torture chamber/library, with a bit of demonic flair thrown in for flavor.  From pentacles and cloaks to crystal balls and incense burners, this store was like Satan's supply closet.  Well, I guess the title of the store wasn't a bluff.  Long, glass-paned cases were set up along a far wall, serving as an impromptu cash counter.  A large, old-fashioned cash register sat in the very middle of the paneling, and a blood-red curtain hung in a doorway directly behind it.  No one was manning the register, but there was some guy browsing through the miscellaneous demon skulls on a shelf beside the casing.  He looked up when I entered, and I barely kept from gasping.  He looked like an experiment with a nail gun gone horribly wrong.  Piercings hung off every visible orifice, and I guessed that there were several in places that didn't show.  I guess I was staring.

"What are you looking at?"  the kid drawled.  Jeez, what did he think I was looking at?!  He was wearing baggy pants that could hide a cooler from Sears, buckles that would get DSS and a "No Fear" t-shirt.  I snickered to myself.  Hey, if I wanted to see fear in this kid's face, I'd whip out a magnet.  That would turn him WHITE.  Heh, not that that was possible, this kid looked like Casper already.  Didn't need to traumatize the younger generation too much, now did I?  Of course not.  That would be mean.  Fun, but mean.  But then, I didn't care.  So it was okay.

I didn't get the chance to come back with a sarcastic yet cutting remark, because the kid raced past me and out the door.  Hey, my caustic thoughts must have cut him to the quick.  Or not.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man standing behind the register, staring directly at me.  Through the haze, I was barely able to make out his features.

He was about 6'2" with a lanky build.  He was toned, I could tell, but it barely showed.  Shaggy blonde hair fell in his piercing blue eyes and shadowed his gaunt features, which at one point would have been considered handsome.  Now he looked like a skeleton.  A black vampire emoticon t-shirt was hung over his chest, and he wore faded black jeans that looked like they should have been thrown out a long time ago.  Scars crisscrossed over his pale arms, making a grotesque pattern up into the sleeves.  I knew there would be more under the shirt, but I didn't care to see if I was right.  At this point, I was figuring out why that kid ran out.

The man fixed me with an unwavering gaze, watching my every move.  It was unnerving.  It was creepy.  It pissed me off.  I wandered over to the bookshelves and looked through copies of the Necronomicon, Practical Voodoo, and The Book of the Dead.  Nothing having to do with Samael…at least nothing I could see.  I had the nagging fear that if I touched some of the books on the shelves they would steal my soul the second I opened them.  Not a pointless fear in this situation, but still.

"If you're not going to buy anything, then leave!"

I jumped.  Turning on my heel, I looked to see the speaker, and jumped again.  The man from behind the counter was less than a foot away, staring directly into my face.  Gulp.

"I'm looking for information about Samael…I saw your store and decided to take a look.  Can you help, or do I have to summon the demon and ask HIM?"

That shook him.  Ha ha, point for me.  He looked at me as if I had lobsters crawling out of my ears, then strode past me and started thumbing through books.  After a moment, he came up with a leather-bound, string-spined volume, and opened it.  He leafed through several pages before stopping, and he handed it to me with not so much as a smile.  Okay, two could play at that game.  I took the book without expression and looked at the page where he'd stopped.  I felt my eyes get wider, and my jaw slightly dropped.

Samael
 Ruler of the Fifth Heaven, Samael has been regarded as one of the greatest and one of the most dreaded Angels operating in Heaven. Samael represents the severity of God, but also the power to achieve Victory over Adversity and Adversaries through Virtue with great Power. Hence, this Angel should be a Patron to all those who do battle on the battlefield, in the courtroom, and in all occupations of Law, Politics, Government and the Military. Samael was regarded as the serpent who tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden, drawing to himself the position and distinction as Chief of Satans.  Samael has been described as the most beautiful of Archangels. Many of the Archangels are said to have six wings. Samael, like Metatron, is said to have twelve. He is also known as the most prominent "Angel of Death" and is attributed to Mars.  There was a movement to re-evaluate all beliefs and ideals again in the light of new understanding, not to judge but to allow things to be as they are, but some disagreed with this motion.  Scholars proposed that Samael ruled the earth prior to the Archangel Gabriel, from 1190-1510 A.D. During his reign, many rulers and leaders were overthrown. Samael is also attributed to Mars, often thought of as a planet signifying war and conflict. If we go to the essence of the present energy of Mars, then it could also be the possibility of further awakening; of finding the discipline to do what we know is necessary for our development.

When I finished reading, I felt the beginnings of a cold sweat.  So people in Silent Hill were followers of Satan.  So Satan was trying to make his presence known.  I thought of all the things I'd seen…the mark on my room, the White Claudia, the mutilations of the bodies, the profundity of the deaths…now that I'd thought about it, the reminded me of different forms of a sacrifice.

Sacrifice…

I dropped the book and cupped both hands over my mouth, struggling not to throw up.  The fumes made it worse, and tears sprang to my eyes once more.  I dropped to my knees, started to rock back and forth, and concentrated on not throwing up.

Iwon'tthrowupIwon'tthrowupIwon'tthrowupIwon'tthrowupIwon'tthrowup…

Eventually the nausea died down, and I managed to flop backwards onto my rump.  The man still hovered over me a few feet away, and the book lay on the floor.  I looked at the man, and he looked back.  My fear was replaced with rage as I stared into his eyes, and I could tell he sensed it.  I staggered to my feet, dropped my hands, and gave him a look of daggers.

"Why in the hell didn't you help me?  You saw what was going on!  You just watched!  What in the hell is wrong with you?!"  I raised my hand to strike him, and as I swung, he caught my wrist in midair.  He stared into my eyes and shoved me away.  I rubbed my wrist reproachfully, and continued to glare.  The man bent over and picked up the book.  He caressed its cover, almost lovingly, and held it out to me.

"Are you going to buy this?  If you're not, then get out."

I felt my rage peak.  "Who in the hell do you think you are?"

"My name is James Sunderland.  Who in the hell do you think YOU are?"

Okay, that answer took me a bit by surprise.  Sunderland.  As in, Mary Sunderland.  Possible relations.  Shit.

"My name is Kira Devereaux.  Do you know a Mary Sunderland, perhaps?  I work with her, and since you both scare the shit out of me, it seemed like you could be related."

There was a stunned silence before the answer.  "You are Kira Devereaux?"  There was a surprised lilt to his voice that hadn't been there a moment earlier.

"I am.  You know me?"

"You could say that."

I had just enough time to see the hand speeding toward my neck before I felt a blow, and dropped to the floor.  The world went black before I'd even hit the ground.

***

I woke to the smell of hot liquid, and something hot and bitter being pushed between my lips.  I regained enough consciousness to spit it out.  A cry sounded behind my eyelids, and curiosity forced my eyes open.

I was propped upright in a rather rickety-feeling chair, in what I guessed was the back of the store.  James was crouching close by, rubbing his eyes and holding a chipped mug of some unappetizing looking liquid.  I almost smiled, it was fun to see people who had just earlier caused me pain in pain.  I moved my head for a better look, and immediately regretted it.  A burning pain was centered on my neck, from where the blow had obviously landed.  I winced, and waited for the pain to subside.

"Didn't anyone teach you that spitting is a vulgar habit?"

I opened my eyes,  James was kneeling in front of me, empty-handed.  The mug was on the nearby counter.  Good.  I squirmed.

"Didn't anyone teach you that knocking people out isn't nice?"

"Touche."  James pulled another chair from behind me somewhere and sat down.  I looked past him and gazed around the room.  Stacks of books and boxes lined the walls, and cobwebs adorned the corners and rafters.  Yes, rafters.  There were rafters in the back of the store, and with the dimness, I couldn't make out the ceiling.  I wasn't sure I wanted to, either.  I turned my attention back to James, who had crossed his legs and was staring at me with a look of utmost interest.

"So, you've gone through all the trouble to knock me out, take me back here, and poison me.  What in the hell do you want from me?"

James cleared his throat.  "First, I didn't poison you.  It's a painkiller.  Second, I did what I did because I'd never have gotten you to listen to me otherwise."

I wondered if he thought of saying, 'Hey, I need to tell you something you might find useful.  Want to get some coffee?'.  Probably not.  My stomach let loose a growl.  Coffee sounded really good right now, not the gloppy shit he was trying to force-feed me.

"I know you've been in charge of looking into all the Silent Hill murders.  You've been doing the autopsies.  Not a pretty sight, eh?  Didn't think so.  These people didn't just die your typical run-of-the-mill style, as you've probably guessed.  No, something special happened to them."  James rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle.  It was filled with a white powdery substance.  He tossed it to me, and I caught it.  "What do you think this is?"

I opened the stopper and wafted the scent towards my nose.  I recognized the bitter scent immediately, I'd smelled it in the autopsy labs before.  It was the same smell the dried blood had, the smell of a substance separated from the blood of the victims and packaged to blandness.  I knew the scent…very well.

"It's White Claudia, isn't it?"  My voice wavered a bit.  I tossed the bottle back to James, who caught it one-handed.  He nodded, and put it away.

"White Claudia.  Did you know this drug was used in ancient rituals, used to bring demons to this plane of existence?"

Right.  I shook my head.

"The people you dissected weren't ordinary people.  They were avatars of the most evil demon who ever existed, the Chief of Satans, Samael.  These people had belonged to a cult formed to bring about the rebirth of Samael, and these people were just power sources for his evil.  I know…I went through hell.  I was almost a sacrifice myself, and I overcame.  I overcame…at a terrible price.  But that doesn't matter.  What does matter is that Samael will come back, sooner or later, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop it.

"There's something else…I was the one who killed Eddie.  I saw Angela die.  And Maria…"  James shook his head.  "You won't see Maria."

O-kay, this guy was either a really good liar or a very bad truthsayer.  Hardly anything he was saying was making sense, except for the confession to killing Eddie and seeing Angela die.  That part seemed clear to me.  The rest was just a huge blot.  In any case, I'd just about had enough.  I stood, ignoring the wave of pain that washed over me.

"Listen, James, I'm gonna go.  I'm a forensic pathologist, not a psychiatrist.  Get it straight.  You're starting to really freak the shit out of me, and I don't appreciate it.  Call my clinic if you have to, but please, leave me alone."  I walked to the door.

"KIRA!  Don't tell anyone!  Do you hear me?  I will kill you if you do!  Mark my words, I will!"

Words ringing in my ears, I opened the front door and stepped outside.  The night air felt like heaven compared to the inside of the store, and I was duly thankful for the breeze.  I reached in my pocket and took out my pocket recorder.  It was still on.  Smart of me to turn it on before going in.  I turned it off, put it away, and started to run.  Death threat or no, this evidence had to be taken to the office.  Whatever could help, could help, and who was I to stand in the way of the judicial branch at work?  I crossed the street at the light and started to race to my car when the radio in my pocket started to ring.  Dumbfounded, I took the little red radio out and looked at it.  Huh.  I'd left it on accidentally.  As I was examining the little radio incredulously, someone lunged out at me from the alley.

There was no time to draw the Ruger.  The person swung its fist at me and I caught their arm.  I almost dropped it.  The flesh felt dead under my fingers, and I knew what dead flesh felt like.  While I was marveling at the cold meat I was holding, the person hit me with their other arm, knocking me to the pavement.  When I looked up from the gravel, the person had a metal pole in their hands.  The person swung at me, missed and abruptly turned around.  I scrambled away from it and tried to get up.  I only managed to fall face-first on the cement again.  I looked up, and found the moonlight streaming on my attacker's face.

It had at one point been a woman.  But her features were so leprous and dead that I couldn't possibly rule her out as anything but dead.  She looked like a walking cadaver.  So, being the sensible person I was, I screamed.  That seemed to startle the woman; she froze for a moment and took a stagger backwards.  I took that time to fumble for the Ruger.  Nothing; James must have taken it from me earlier.  Shit.  But I felt the worn-wooden handle of my bread knife, and that was better than nothing.  I flung myself to a crouching position, drew the shining blade and swung it outward in one movement.  I watched almost in slow motion as the torso separated from the rest of the body of my attacker.  Blood spattered the sidewalk, stained my face and sprayed my clothes with crimson.  The woman let out a low moan and collapsed, the two halves of the body flopping to different sides of the pavement.  The pipe fell to the ground with a clang.

I dropped my bread knife, panting heavily, and waited for the adrenaline rush to subside.  As it did, a wave of nausea enveloped my senses, and I turned to throw up.  After emptying my stomach of its contents on the ground, I leaned against the wall and scrunched my eyes closed.  I had just killed that…thing…

What in the hell was going on…?

I barely had time to answer my own question before a sharp pain ripped through my leg.  I looked down and saw the beast-dog from several nights earlier tearing at my leg, snapping at my jeans, trying to get at my flesh.  I screamed and kicked out with all my might, and saw that the beast's eyes burned blood red.  I screamed again, and the dog lunged.

Bang.

A shot shattered the snarls of the dog, and it fell to the ground dead, a gaping hole in its chest cavity.  Blood pooled around it, mixing with that of the woman.  It shone a burgundy red in the street lamplight, and I fought off yet another wave on nausea.  I turned my head to see my savior, and my hopes fell flat when I saw who it was.

James.  He walked towards me, shotgun in hand, pointed directly at the dog.  He seemed afire with an unearthly strength; I could feel the power ripple over my skin.  Whatever he was…he definitely wasn't a normal human.  I felt fear rising in the back of my throat.

"What the hell was that?!"  I asked, as soon as I'd found my voice.

"Demons…monsters…you're seeing them too…"  James swung the barrel of the shotgun from the dog to point at me.  "You're descending into darkness.  You don't realize, Kira, that you are the reason this hell is coming back!  Leading the Prince of Darkness back to this world!  Guiding him!  I won't stand for it!  You're getting in over your head, and you're about to drown!"  He pumped the shotgun, and aimed it.  "I was supposed to be the one to resurrect Samael, not you!  Not a stupid fscking doctor!  Me!  He told me that I was the one!"  His hand started to shake, as well as his voice.  Hell, so was I.

"Well, if I can't do it, then NO ONE will!"

I seemed to be a popular target nowadays.

Shit.

~~~

Reviews=More chapters!  Just one more to go, folks, let's make that last sprint for the finish line!!!