Chapter 5: Harmonixer Stew
I survived the holidays; I hope you all did too. As a reward, Chapter 5.
Disclaimer: Don't own Shadow Hearts. Own a Persian cat … want him?
WARNING! Graphic violence, police brutality, adult language, and really bad French. It is rated "R" after all!
And a special "Thank You" goes to AriesCelestial (Shadow Souls) who let me borrow the idea that Yuri is a doodler.
"Mother," Alice said with a sigh, "we've discussed this all night. You are angry at Yuri. I can understand that. But blaming him for not telling you he's a harmonixer ... that just isn't right. I'm the one you should be angry with. I'm the one who should have told you; but frankly, it never came up."
Alice sat at the kitchen table, her head resting in her hands. She had walked back to her mother's home on Alliston Road from Regency Park and all the long way going over in her mind what had happened that day. She and her mother had been awakened at around midnight with the arrival of a drunken Yuri fused to Death Emperor. Alice had seen the Darkness class fusion soul several times on their travels through China and Europe and so was well used to the evil visage of the fusion. But her mother was quite another matter. Her mother, once she'd gotten over her shock, had used Alice's book to bash Death Emperor in the head and causing Yuri to lose the fusion. Yuri promptly threw up on her feet and her mother was instantly furious. Yuri had been locked in his room to sleep it off while she and her mother had retired downstairs for a night of arguments.
"Why didn't you tell me he was a monster?" Mrs. Elliot had demanded as soon as her daughter had entered the sitting room.
"Mother! Yuri is not a monster! He's a Harmonixer; a fusionist. And he uses his power to help people; to protect me!" Alice had been quick to defend her fiancé to no avail.
"He's still a monster," Mrs. Elliot had insisted. "God did not give man the power to consort with the souls of demons and monsters; it is of Satan, as well you know."
"Mother please," Alice had begged. But the argument had continued. First, accusations of Yuri consorting with demons and monstrosities, then the corruption of her own soul by her dalliances with the young man; it escalated until Alice could no longer stand the vituperative arguments.
"Mother, stop it! Yuri is a good man! He saved my life from the Japanese; he rescued me from the warlock Simon and from Dehuai. If not for him, I would be dead. If not for him, we would ALL be dead!" she shouted.
Startled by her daughter's sudden vehemence, Mrs. Elliot paused.
"All right, prove to me he didn't lie," she said. "Prove his protection. What did he do?"
Alice sighed. "Well it started with Albert Simon and his accomplice in China, a sorcerer named Dehuai. Oh, and Yuri's father, Colonel Ben Hyuga..."
By the time the sun had risen Mrs. Elliot had heard more than enough to know her daughter was smitten with a devil in man's clothing. But she loved her daughter and would do anything to protect her, even if from the man she loved; or the man who had influence over her. True the young man had a tragic past, being born of a monster like his father and then left for dead. But regardless of the circumstances of his life, he was still a danger to Alice; he would continue to lead her into dangerous situations with his reckless attitude and, this she fervently believed, there was no way that Yuri Hyuga or anyone else had killed God. It was blasphemous, and heretical!
When the morning paper arrived her deepest fears were confirmed yet again with the sketch of that monstrosity that had entered from the upstairs window displayed prominently on page one. Mrs. Elliot took air for round two and Alice sighed, praying that Yuri would stay asleep through all this upset; which he did. When Yuri did finally join them and the police arrived, it had startled her deeply to hear her mother accuse Yuri in front of the officers. She admitted that Yuri was the monster from the paper, and now he was imprisoned with the accusations of murder on his head. There was little she could do to stem the tide of a murder investigation; little she could do to stop her mother's accusations. But Alice did know someone who could assist at least with Yuri's problem.
By evening, Yuri's problem had escalated. He had been relieved of his coat, belts, personal items and the cuffs placed back on his wrists as he was lead to a holding cell; this had not been without ensuing struggles by the fusionist and Captain Cashiel had warned them to keep him isolated and away from the other prisoners and so his cell was a small dark hole in a recess of an old retaining wall in the oldest part of the city jail. Yuri sat on a small cot that had been placed against one wall and contemplated his condition. He groaned when he thought of what was to happen to him; how first Mrs. Elliot and then Alice had betrayed him.
'No, she didn't betray me,' he thought miserably. 'But why did she tell me to stop? Why?' His thoughts ran in a confusing circle until the clang of his cell door opening brought him to his feet.
Entering the cell were half a dozen men whom he did not know, but the guard was behind them so their visit was expected. That's when it hit him; this was the visit of revenge for those men whom he had injured earlier today. A small smile quirked one corner of his mouth; he was well familiar with this ritual.
"Ah, so you've come to set matters straight, eh?" he said quietly. "But such brave and strong men that it takes six of you!"
His taunt was met with action as he was quickly grabbed and slammed face first into the cell wall; hard fists pounded into his side and lower back, aiming for his kidneys. When those fists stopped he was turned around, his hands still cuffed behind him and more fists met his midsection. Finally some enterprising individual passed along a baton and the next sounds Yuri heard were the heavy breathing of the men as they beat him nearly senseless. Finally the guard called them off.
"He's no good to the Captain if he's dead," the man said and the six slowly left the cell, each offering one final kick to the harmonixer now huddled on the cold cell floor.
Yuri no longer cared. He heard the turning of the key in the lock, the sound reminiscent of the clink of chains, his own moans an echo of those earlier cries of pain and his mind traveled back to that other time when such a ritual had been played out with him as the central actor.
The winter of 1909 was the most severe of the last decade. Yuri Hyuga, age 20, had spent the past two years and this past summer charming, stealing and fighting his way across northern China and up into Siberia. He kicked around Evenki and then headed southwest making his way up the mountains toward Krasnoyarsk. Along the way he took odd jobs as day labor when they were available, stole when they were not, but mostly he advertised himself as a monster hunter.
He had picked up a set of fighting gloves in Port Arthur some while back and had spent the last few years remembering the lessons his missing father had taught him. He was stronger now than he had been just a few years ago, and his traveling had given him an education he had lacked before; not that his reading and writing had improved, but his languages were many and varied. He found he was quick to pick up the various tongues spoken throughout northern and central China, and the multitude of dialects available in Russia as well. And he had grown confident in his fighting skills, while developing his own style of fighting.
When he encountered a beast or a monster he did not hesitate to attack it; and each time he slew a monster he counted it as a victory against those who had killed his mother while he had watched in helplessness. He enjoyed the feel of muscles straining as he punched or kicked the life out of some creature of hell, and he especially liked the blood. It fascinated him. The pain he inflicted on these creatures fed his soul.
By the time Christmas arrived, Yuri found himself snowbound in Divnogorsk. He had made it as far as the mountain pass below Krasnoyarsk when the snowstorm dropped out of the arctic wastes and he found himself begging a room at the local roadside outside of Divnogorsk. However he had come too late and the rooms were all taken, but he could sleep out in the stables with the horses. That suited Yuri well and he bought a bowl of stew and a round of bread and pushed his way to the fire to thaw out. He had not obtained sufficient monies to purchase winter clothing and his fur was of the poorest kind; he needed thicker boots and gloves too but had not thought to plan for such things when the weather had been so warm that summer. Now he was mentally kicking himself but knew he'd remember next time! After eating he joined some of the men in a game of dice, adding only a little to the small pile of coins in his purse.
Finally he left the public room and headed for the stable, his pack in his hand. He didn't have much in the way of personal property, traveling light with only a small travel bag that he usually wore slung over his shoulder. Inside he kept his fighting gloves, a blanket, any spare food he'd managed to obtain, and his 'nothings', these were little scraps of paper with drawings or sketches on them.
He had started his 'nothings' one day when he was fifteen. He had stopped in Tientsin, and had taken a job from an elder Manchu and, as the old man had little to pay him with, he offered to help Yuri improve his reading and writing. Yuri's concentration was minimal, often daydreaming instead of practicing his calligraphy, which is how he discovered his doodling. Figures jumped out at him from the Chinese characters and he was more interested in exploring those than what the letters meant. Later, as he began to draw more and more often and with greater detail he had thought of getting a little notebook or sketch book, but kept putting it off as they were rare and expensive. But if he found a scrap of paper he would cover every inch with doodles; animals he had seen, monsters he had fought and always, always a fox. And that one monster that always haunted his dreams; that too he drew in frightening detail.
Tossing his pack into the hay loft he climbed up and, with one foot, shoved loose strands of hay and straw into one corner. Then, wrapping up in his one blanket, he burrowed into the hay to sleep. Some time in the night he was joined by others who did not have rooms at the wayside and the loft grew warmer with the combined body heat. Yuri didn't notice, he was lost in dreams.
The sun was setting beyond the hill in his dream. It was always setting. There was haze in the eastern sky behind him, hiding the little house that he lived in. On the hilltop was a lone tree and beside the tree stood the man. The man always wore a green army coat; and a fox mask. Yuri trembled in his dream, fear gripping him as he approached the tree and the waiting man. Then the man would turn and scarlet eyes would stare out at him from behind the mask; eyes that glowed with ambient hatred and disgust. Yuri would always try to turn away but the man would speak and he would freeze in his steps, limbs suddenly locked ridged and his whole body trembling now with the man's words of derision and contempt. And then the hill would darken, the sun setting into the night and the tree would melt and fade, changing to a grave marker in a graveyard. A symbol was carved on the marker instead of a name and Yuri would stare at it, fear gripping his heart as the fox masked man would also fade and be replaced by a monster. The creature was tall and thin with bat-like wings rising from his back and a dark visage from out of hell. Yuri knew hell intimately; he saw it every time he slept, heard it in the voice of the fox masked man. The creature descended from the gravestone and reached out with one long-fingered claw that dwarfed Yuri's face, gripping his head in his hand and then...
Yuri awoke screaming. He kicked the straw and blanket away and ran, forgetting he was in the loft and crashed over the edge to sprawl ungracefully in the dirt below. Miraculously he was unhurt if not embarrassed as he awoke fully, realizing what he had done. Climbing back up to the loft he apologized to the few men he had awakened with his screams and buried himself back in the hay. Morning could not come soon enough now, and he lay shivering with more than cold.
It would be another four days before the weather broke enough for Yuri to continue his travels. By then the meager coins he had in his purse were spent and he had to leave, snow or no snow. He set out as the brooding clouds began to shred with the new northern wind at mid-morning, making his way south along the river. A handful of other travelers also left that day and Yuri thought nothing of them as he walked. Ice and deep snow drifts bared his way in many places along the trail and he found that he traveled easier once he moved under the canopy of the forest. The woods were not deep, though filled with tall trees and dead limbs; a frosty mist clung to the upper branches, looking like wispy cotton balls, and the snow had drifted up the sides of many of the trees. By nightfall he had barely made ten miles and was wishing he'd had more money for the inn. However, there was nothing he could do so he pulled his blanket from his pack and wrapped it around himself and huddled down into a snow bank, hoping not to freeze before daylight.
The morning arrived with the cracking of ice and a bitter north wind that sent shivers running down Yuri's entire body. He stood beneath an old bare oak whose branches wore more hoar than bark and watched the lowered clouds shred and rip as the wind tore them to pieces. Little bits of grey-blue sky peeped out and Yuri shuddered; even though it meant no new snow, the wind and clearing skies meant temperatures would drop even further. Yuri had no hope if he didn't make it to a town before nightfall. He began to run, a ground covering lope that would hopefully bring him to the headwaters of Chernogorsk Lake. With any luck he would find an ice-fisherman or a fur-hunter and beg or barter a ride. If not then his chances of surviving a sub-zero night without furs was nil.
By noon he crested another pass that overlooked yet another valley and more snow. He shuddered, pulling the blanket closer and looked out at clear blue sky.
"Damn!" he muttered. "What devil did I piss off this time?" As he descended the valley he failed to note the shadow on his trail. It too loped silently in the snows, its black and white mottled coat making it difficult to see.
Yuri made the next valley by mid-afternoon and stopped to rest. He tried digging up some roots beneath the forest floor, but nothing, not even his knife, would pierce the ice-hardened surface. Content to stuff a handful of snow in his mouth, Yuri lie on the snow, his eyes closed for a few minutes. His breathing slowed and for a moment he dozed off, the dead silence of the forest lulling him. But then he heard the crunch of snow and his eyes opened just as a shadow passed over him.
He jumped up, snapping his blanket at the shape that was bending over him, startling it, and giving him time to move away. The intruder was taller than Yuri, standing nearly six feet, with long fur and a face like a wolf and it carried a whip in one clawed hand. Yuri's startled yelp echoed in the silent forest and he turned to flee, hearing the crunch of iced snow as the creature followed on his heels.
Yuri's heart was beating hard in his throat as he ran.
'A leshii. God damn! A leshii. I pissed off a leshii. I'm fucked. I am dead and I am fucked!' his mind screamed at him as he ran pell-mell the last few hundred yards before reaching the trail up the next mountain. With any luck the leshii would stop at the forest's edge, the forest being his home and his territory, and Yuri was praying furiously to Buddha, God, and Satan that would be the case. Not pausing to check on his pursuer, Yuri began to climb the trail out of the forest. He had made the first crest of rocks when a loud crack sounded, echoing along the ridgeline and he felt something brush past his shoulder. Looking, he saw the remnants of his blanket shredding away with the wind and he turned in time to see the long black length of the leshii's whip as he swung it back for a second strike.
"Fuck! What are you doing? I'm leaving, isn't that enough?"
The leshii didn't answer, instead swinging the whip again, sending it lashing out at the startled harmonixer, catching him by the leg and pulling him down.
Yuri tried to pull the whip free of his pants leg but before he could get it more than loosened the shadow of the leshii stood above him. Looking up into the glowing eyes of the vengeful forest lord, Yuri wondered what he had done wrong now. In the next instant a massive fist crashed into his face, forcing his head back to smash into the rocks, unconscious.
When Yuri awoke it was to pain and confusion. He was lying on the ground, a fur covering him but he could not move. Wiggling his hands and feet he found that they were bound. Confusion warred with the pain in his head as he opened his eyes and looked around; there was a camp fire burning low just a few feet away and a horse tethered at a copse just beyond, and in the shadows was the leshii. Yuri struggled to free himself and escape but the movement caught the leshii's attention and he approached, whip in hand.
"Stop," the leshii said, his voice firm.
Yuri ceased his struggles and looked up at the wolfen faced leshii. Looking again he wondered why he thought it was a leshii. Black and white mottled fur, wolf faced, claw handed; but the wolf face was a hood, the fur was a long furred coat and the claws were gloves. It was a man.
"Who're you? Why are you doing this?"
"Shut up Ivanovich. You're a meal ticket, but that doesn't mean I won't beat shit outta you," the man growled.
"Ivanovich?" Yuri muttered then his eyes widened. His reputation had caught up to him. He hadn't used the name in almost two years, not since the series of thefts he'd committed in Novgorod. He had gotten involved in a plan to steal some of the Tsar's regalia on display in Novgorod's museum. It wasn't something he cared about one way or the other, but the challenge of it intrigued him. He knew he had the skills and with his monster he could get in and out better than any ordinary thief. He hadn't intended to get caught or even seen, but it hadn't worked out quite that simply. He had been seen; he was identified by people whom he had met, and the authorities began searching for him. Yuri Ivanovich quickly ceased to exist and Yuri Hyuga returned.
"This is about Novgorod, yes?"
The man reached down and cuffed Yuri across the face.
"I said shut up!"
Yuri licked at the blood that dribbled down his chin from the cuffing and watched as the man pulled meat from the fire. He sat and ate while the tantalizing aroma a meat tickled Yuri's nose.
"Any chance of some o' that for me?" he asked quietly, but the man ignored him. Yuri sighed and sniffed the air, imagining the taste as the meat slid down his throat; the texture as his teeth chewed. His stomach growled anyway, reminding him that food had been a long while back.
Later, after the man had finished eating, he banked the fire and, grabbing Yuri from beneath the fur, ran a chain around a nearby tree, and secured him to it. Yuri was about to protest when the man threw a fur over him.
"You shut up and behave or you freeze, understand?"
Yuri nodded and silently offered a prayer of thanks to whatever devil had decided to offer him mercy; he might be hungry but at least he wouldn't freeze.
If anyone asked Yuri what he remembered of the following week he could only offer one word: exhaustion. The man rode the horse and pulled Yuri along behind on a long tether, forcing the young harmonixer to run or be dragged. In addition, if he gave the man any trouble, so much as a spoken word, he would go without food. Yuri quickly decided that food, fur, and silence were a good combination. And by the end of the week they arrived at Novosibirsk.
Yuri had not known what to expect. He knew from things he had heard over the years that Russian justice was swift and brutal. If he had expected a trial, he was mistaken; he was condemned to death in absentia, and upon arriving at the court, was immediately thrown in jail. The last sounds he heard for a week was the clanging of the doors and the moans of the other prisoners. Soon, his own moans would be added.
Less than two days into waiting Yuri was visited by the guards. They had visited each cell in turn and Yuri got a preview of the coming attractions. By the time they reached him he was ready to fight to the death, but they didn't give him the opportunity. They out-numbered him, they had chains, they had prods, and they used them. When they were finished they left him hanging by his arms from the cross-bars in the ceiling, a steady drip of blood an accompaniment to his moans.
After a week of waiting he was brought out and added to a line of chained men who were going to prison. The chief advocate of the courts read out a sentence of leniency issued by His Excellency Tsar Nicholas II of Russia. Each man was condemned to life imprisonment; sentences to be served in the prison work forces scattered throughout Siberia. One man went instantly insane; others protested and screamed, saying they would rather be shot. Yuri was in too much shock.
Another forced march began and another week of traveling in the icy wastes, heading north toward the work camps in Tomsk. But by the time the work force arrived at the camps, Yuri had a plan. He had to bide his time, a long wait of nearly three months, but by the end of it he was free and fleeing for his life south, to China.
Yuri's first interrogation by Captain Cashiel was early the next morning. When he was handed over to Lieutenant Carter, he still wore blood on his face and the signs of his beating were evident with bruises and one swollen eye. Carter pulled him into a nearby washroom and dragged a wet towel over face before guiding him into the interrogation room. Waiting was Captain Cashiel, a stenographer and Brittey. Yuri only knew Cashiel and instantly watched him, his eyes never leaving the captain's face.
Carter stood him at the end of a table and then whispered a few words into Cashiel's ear. Yuri heard a brief question and then instructions about the guard and permanent records. A little smirk threatened to join the bruises on his face but he quickly swallowed it when Cashiel turned to look at him.
"Yuri Hyuga, you've been detained pending the investigation of your involvement in the murder of Lars Sveningsen. Witnesses have stated that you are the monster seen in the area that night." Cashiel paused and pulled a folder across the table and opened it, lifting a few pages as he read. "Are you the monster, Mr. Hyuga?"
"I did not kill that man, Captain. But I cannot prove it," Yuri said softly.
"I didn't ask that. But I'll accept that for now. Where was Sveningsen when you last saw him?"
Yuri shrugged as best he could through the handcuffs, and then winced with pain. "In the pub; I got up to take a piss and passed out. He was there when Bart took me out to the alley a few minutes later. I dunno what he did after that. I was passed out in the alley."
"Did you see anyone when you awoke?"
Yuri shook his head. "No. It was dark and foggy. I went to the street and got sick. Then I tried to cross th' bridge."
"Which bridge?"
"Blackfriars; I take it every time. I don't remember seeing anyone; but it was foggy and I was really pissed. I mean, drunk."
"Where did you go after crossing the bridge?"
"Well, I had trouble crossing Captain. I – the ground kept moving. But I think I remember a park. I dunno. Then a lot of screaming people and lights; near a train station I think."
"That would be Paddington," the man Brittey commented. "He is the monster!"
"Shut up, Brittey," Lieutenant Carter said.
"Did you see any monsters while you were out there, Hyuga?"
Yuri shook his head again. "No –" he looked up at Cashiel and knew that they didn't believe him, that they could see he was lying.
"Are you the monster we're looking for Hyuga; the one doing the killing?"
"No! I didn't kill anyone, I swear! But – but I cannot prove it."
Cashiel stared at his prisoner for a moment before nodding toward Carter. The lieutenant took Yuri by the arm and led him toward the door.
"So Captain," Yuri turned to look at Cashiel as the door was opened. "When does the real interrogation begin?"
Cashiel stared at the young Russian for a full minute before a frown creased his brow.
"This is Britain, not Russia," was all he said, and Yuri was taken back to his cell.
"He's the monster, Captain. You know that!" Brittey said to Cashiel after Yuri was gone.
"Maybe. But he doesn't have to admit it now, does he Brittey? If I were him, I wouldn't. His family turned him in. He's got to be hurting from that. Let's just let him stew for a while. We've got a little time left. See if he cracks."
Brittey nodded. "I would dearly love to know if he had something to do with the other killings as well," the little scholar said wistfully.
Cashiel turned a critical eye on the little man.
"They don't have any bearing on this case, Brittey. I'm only interested in the bodies I've got, not in ones I don't have. But I'll admit I'd like to know the answers too; just not right now."
Alice Elliot opened the front door of her mother's home and stood aghast at the woman standing in front of her. She had been expecting Margarete, but this was not her. A little taller than Alice, this woman had long red hair, green eyes and, when she spoke, it was with the thick accent of French.
"May I help you?" Alice asked.
"Mais oui. Vous pouvez me laisser à l'intérieur, s'il vous plaît."
"But do I know you?" Alice asked, hesitant to let a stranger enter.
"Bien sûr! Ce m'est, Samantha Margarete Guilbert; votre vieux compagnon qui voyageant."
"Samantha? But we have never met." Alice was confused, but the red-headed woman merely pushed open the door and walked in.
"Will you let me in before the whole world knows I'm here?" she said in unaccented English and Alice blinked with recognition.
"Margarete? Is that you?"
Margarete closed the door with a sigh.
"Of course! You asked me to come, didn't you?"
"But why the disguise? Why the different name?"
Margarete took off her net hat and set it aside, along with her coat. "Because some fichu stupide vache d'une femme is using my name!" she swore as she hung up her coat and shoulder holster on the peg.
Alice indicated the sitting room and they both entered, Margarete taking a chair that faced the inner door.
"The stupid cow is a spy! A horrid, fake Indian dancer and spy; and she is using my name!" Margarete harrumphed and shook her head. "So I had to make a few changes to get into England. It's all temporary, but I didn't have time to deal with British Intelligence and Kitchener's been a real bear about illegal entry and such. There's a war on, you know!"
Alice giggled, covering her mouth with her hands.
"I am so glad you're here, Margarete," Alice said with a sigh. "I don't know what to do for Yuri. He's been arrested for murder."
"Murder?" Margarete's eyebrows raised and she grinned. "Tell me all the juicy details."
Two days. It had been two more days since they had brought him to jail and Yuri now sat on the edge of the cot in his cell. He'd tried to break free of the restraining cuffs only to discover that the more he pulled the tighter they became. When he said something to the guard he was told to shut up. With a sigh he was resigned to waiting; he could do nothing else. The captain knew he had lied and didn't trust him. Why else leave the cuffs on? He was a dangerous monster wasn't he? He could break out and kill everyone, even the children, couldn't he? He was a bad man, an evil monster, and he was better off in jail, wasn't he?
Thoughts poured through his mind like rain and he wondered what devil he had pissed off this time to be in this situation. He recalled with painful details his previous time in prison; after escaping that hell he had sworn he would never be put in prison again. But now, what could he do? He remembered that his last escape had brought him back to China and his first encounter with 'that damned voice'.
He had run and run until he could run no further before finally dropping into a ditch and pulling dirt on top of himself to hide. Fear of recapture had been a powerful motivator in keeping him running but now exhaustion had set in and he could no longer continue. Falling into fitful sleep, Yuri dreamed of chains, whips and beatings and unremitting hunger, his constant companions of the last three months. He had not been alone in that hell, but he was the only one to escape.
'I'll never go back there,' he swore with each bloody step he took away from the prison work camp. Bone thin, with clothing no more than rags and rags for his feet, he had escaped the only way he knew how. Every plan he had made went to nothing as the guards made short work of any resistance. He had finally endured enough. On a work detail on the outskirts of town, he fused, tore the head off the guard and stole the keys to the shackles before disembodying and running for his sorry life. Now, lying in the dirt, shivering in cold and fatigue, Yuri dozed, his misery a shadow play in his dreams.
He wasn't sure what woke him from his exhausted slumber - possibly someone passing by? But on looking he could see no one, not even shadows or leshiis. He listened, his ears straining to hear even a twig breaking, but nothing came on the wind. With a shrug he lay back down and covered up with dirt once more. As sleep began to take him again he thought he heard a soft voice singing, humming a little lullaby in a language he did not know. It soothed him and soon he slept.
When he awoke again it was to full on daylight. Brushing off the dirt, he began walking again, heading south, ever south. He ignored any roads knowing that they would only lead to trouble, but he did not pass up the occasional farm. At these he made small forays for food and a blanket at the first one, clothing and shoes at the second. He stood a better chance at surviving if he had supplies so he stole them.
And later that day when he stopped to make a camp, he started his first camp fire with the flints he had stolen from the last farm. He huddled, wrapped in his blanket, eating dried meat and a wrinkled yam, watching the bright orange and red flames dancing when the voice returned; only this time stronger. It took him like a knife, cutting into his mind, stabbing him repeatedly with each word, each syllable. The pain left him panting and shivering on the ground.
* ...go Kyzyl ... Tuva... help ...*
Yuri pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked around. The voice had spoken and he understood it, but not what it wanted.
'Tuva?' he thought. 'That's south and east of here, toward Mongolia. And Kyzyl ... is that a town?' Panting still he climbed to his knees and wrapped the blanket around him again. 'Why would I want to go there? And what's with the pain alla sudden?' Confused, he got no answer, but the next day he headed southeast toward Tuva.
When the guard stepped in to Yuri's cell he found the young man sitting up, his head leaning at an odd angle against the wall sound asleep. He shook Yuri awake and took him by the arm, handing him over to Lieutenant Carter. Yuri said not a word, simply following where he was lead until they reached the familiar door of the interrogation room. Inside again was Captain Cashiel and the strange little man, and --
"Alice," Yuri breathed and tried to go to his beautiful fiancé but Carter grabbed him back, shoving him into a chair at the end of the table. Cashiel frowned but said nothing as Yuri craned his neck to look at Alice, who was accompanied by a strange red-headed woman.
"Hyuga, you are a problem," Cashiel stated and the words brought Yuri around to look at him. "My commander wants the charges against you to stick; he wants you indicted for murder, and I would like to oblige him."
Yuri blinked and swallowed, but said nothing.
"Yuri Hyuga, did you kill the man known as Lars Sveningsen?"
"No, but I cannot prove that," he answered with a shallow sigh.
"And are you the monster that witnesses say was in the vicinity of the murder?" Cashiel's eyes bored holes into Yuri and he could almost see the young man squirm.
"Um," Yuri began then, "I am not a monster. I am a fusionist. But I did not kill that man. Or anyone else," he said softly.
The little scholar, Brittey, sat straight in his chair and looked for all the world, like a terrier with his bone. Cashiel said nothing but sighed as he opened the folder set on the table before him.
"That is a dangerous confession, Hyuga, especially in light of the circumstances," he said finally.
Yuri made a small shrug. "Is fusion forbidden here too, Captain? Am I to go to prison? Fine, so long as it is for something that is instead of something that is not. I did not kill Lars; I am not a murderer."
"Do you want to go to prison?" Cashiel asked.
Yuri looked up at the police captain, then down at his feet. "No. But I have no choice; you have the power here."
Cashiel did not reply, but looked at the folder's contents in silence.
"You are the monster that was sighted near Blackfriars Bridge and again at Paddington Station are you not?"
Yuri made a moaning sigh. "Yes. I was drunk; I could barely walk. The road, it seemed to move under me. I used a fusion to get home. Well," he shrugged, "two actually. But I tell you, I did not kill anyone!"
Cashiel nodded, a look of satisfaction briefly crossing his face before he quickly wiped it away.
"Unfortunately, I agree with you," Cashiel said and motioned at Carter who returned to Yuri and released the handcuffs. Yuri slowly shook out his arms and stretched his shoulders, trying to get feeling back into his hands.
"Has something happened, Captain?" Alice Elliot asked from her seat at the back of the room.
Cashiel looked up at the pretty exorcist and sighed. "There was another murder last night; while you," and he turned to Yuri, "were in our custody; a perfect alibi."
Yuri sighed in relief. "I am sorry someone else is dead Captain, but I tol' you. I - I just cannot prove it."
"According to Immigration, you entered this country stating you were a hunter, Hyuga. What kind of hunter?"
Startled by the change of subject, Yuri looked from Carter to Cashiel. "I – a monster hunter, or beasts or people if need. Whatever."
"People?" Carter asked. "You're a bounty hunter?"
"No! No, not like that, never that. Lost people; missing people - that kinda thing. Occasionally bandits, but that was different."
Alice rose from her chair and joined Yuri at the table, one hand coming to rest on his shoulder.
"Captain, what does this mean? Is Yuri free to go?"
Cashiel tossed the folder onto the table top with a sigh.
"Yes. But not yet; I've got a few questions I need answers to and he might provide those answers."
Yuri did not respond but his eyebrows were raised into his long bangs.
"My commander thinks these murders are by some horrible, demented madman, and I would like to believe him. But I don't; I do not believe that a human has done these things. Do you know how these people died, Hyuga? How Sveningsen died?"
Yuri shook his head. "No, you never said."
"Their throats were cut, then they were eviscerated; their vital organs removed."
Alice gasped. "How horrible!"
Yuri was shaking his head slowly from side to side. "I did not do that, I did not."
"I didn't say you did. Brittey here," and Cashiel indicated the little scholar sitting beside him, "has presented some interesting evidence to connect these killings with earlier similar cases going back to the late summer of 1914. He thinks these deaths were caused by a monster or an animal of some kind."
"A monster, Captain, definitely a monster," Brittey interjected.
"The summer of 1914? It began then? But why has no one said anything?" Alice asked quietly.
"Incompetence or fear, and the fact that some of the killings were attributed to other events that happened around then - around Aberystwyth Wales."
Captain Cashiel was treated to three very startled faces. Yuri and Alice exchanged almost guilty looks and the redhead who had accompanied Miss Elliot rose and approached the table, her own green eyes wide with understanding.
"Are you saying that these killings began there? In Wales?" the red haired French lady asked with nary a trace of French accent.
Cashiel pulled a cigar from his coat pocket and snipped the tip before putting it in his mouth.
"Not from France, are ya?" he asked around the cigar.
Margarete looked surprised for a moment, forgetting her disguise, and then laughed.
"Yes and no. But someone else wears my name right now and I don't need the trouble, Captain."
"I didn't catch your name."
"Samantha Margarete Guilbert. But you can call me Margarete. What was that about Wales, Captain?"
"It's a history lesson best left for another time," Cashiel said quickly, forestalling Brittey who had risen to address the group.
"But Captain!"
"Later. Hyuga, if you're any good at hunting, will you help me find this ... whatever it is that's killing these people?"
Yuri looked from Cashiel to Brittey and then up at Alice. Silent communication passed between them and Alice nodded slightly.
"Yes. I will. But what do I get out of it?" Yuri said.
"Yuri!" Alice exclaimed.
"Well he gets his killer; it's only fair!" the young Russian countered.
"You get to stay in this country, Mr. Hyuga. You could be deported for less you know," Lieutenant Carter offered. Cashiel looked up at his supporting officer and nodded.
"I agree," he said.
Yuri scowled then sighed. "I am a marionette again," he grumbled. "All right, I will help. But I need to see the bodies if I can."
"Whatever for, kiddo?" Margarete queried.
Yuri looked up at the redhead. "Is that you, Margarete? What's with the red hair?"
"Oh, ho-ho, never mind kiddo. Just answer the question."
Yuri shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe get some idea how the killings are happening. Maybe what's doing it?" He looked over at Cashiel. "Is that all right?"
Cashiel nodded. "Carter can make the arraignments."
