Toronto Necropolis
Mike Celluci waited near a crypt for the head ground's keeper. He called hours ago and reported one of the mausoleums had been broken into. Items were stolen. It wasn't until uniforms came to take a statement that he provided a description.

"Evening, Detective."

Startled, Mike turned. A man in his sixties approached slowly without making a sound.

"I am Louis Bordeaux."

"Evening."

Louis held out a pocket folder. "That's everything taken."

Mike opened it and pages through the photocopies of pages from a book. "How old are these pictures?"

"1979. Bad construction caused part of the back wall and it had to be repaired." Louis sounded certain.

Mike looked up. "You were here when it was sealed?"

Louis nodded. "I was with my sister when she took the pictures." Pause. "My family has worked here for generations."
Once, Mike wouldn't have thought twice about a family that maintained a cemetery. It reminded him of the voodoo zombie case Vicki investigated. While a French name more likely indicated his family came from France or Quebec, he couldn't help but wonder.

He closed the folder and found his phone. "A large, stone slab was found at a crime scene." The crime scene team was still unsure how to move it. They had no idea how anyone got it into the basement. "Do you recognize it?" He held up his phone for Louis.

"Yes," he said sadly. "It was stolen from the catacombs under Lakeshore Psychiatric Hospital in the 80s before it became Humber College."
Catacombs? Mike didn't want to think about that. He opened the folder and flipped through. "Is it similar to the one stolen from here?"

Anthropologist's Office
The anthropologist's office was on the third floor of an old office building blocks from the Toronto Necropolis. Based on the unusual artwork and event fliers posted in various places, it housed academics.

The elevator jumbled slightly and Vicki Nelson reluctantly grabbed Henry to stay upright. The injuries not only disrupted her balance, they pissed her off. Simply walking around, which should have taken no time at all, took forever. The pain blurred her already bad vision.

"You need to rest," Henry said carefully.

Except that wouldn't answer questions. She needed to know what happened in Curtis Park and how it connected to the homicide Mike was investigating. She couldn't do that from Henry's apartment.

"I can't."

The elevator doors opened and Vicki walked out trying to ignore the pain.

Reluctantly, Henry followed. "What about Nicholas?"

Vicki wondered that herself. "I called while you were in the store and left a message. The recording said he would call people after first light."

He was oddly quietly the rest of the way down the hall. She stopped a few feet from the doctor's door and looked at him.

"What?"

"You said the being in your memory and dream was an angel. Why?"

The images came to mind. Vicki thought about it for a moment. "He looked like an angel. Glowing white and gold."

"Angel stories are common. Visions, dreams, visitations. I have never heard one where a person lost their memory or had a nightmare from the encounter."

"He's a creature of some kind." Vicki knew that already. Then she realized what he was saying. "You think it's Nicholas."

"The timing. The Winthrop reference."

Vicki thought about the day. He made her uneasy at times because she didn't know him. But nothing he did was suspicious. Beyond showing up and declaring himself her assistant. "I don't know."

The elevator door opened before Henry could respond. They turned and looked as Mike stepped into the hallway. He didn't look surprised to see them. Henry set a hand on her back as Mike approached. The gesture and his expression didn't need interpretation. They were both possessive and jealous.

"Mike…"

The door opened and a man in his late fifties stepped back, holding it open for them. Dr. Bordeaux looked like his university profile. "Please come in."
Vicki led into the office. Henry followed close behind, keeping a hand on her back. That would not be a fun conversation. She didn't need to see Mike's face as he shut the door a bit too hard to know what he thought of the situation. That guaranteed another unfortunate discussion.

It was bigger than her office without a separate reception area with well-worn furniture, filing cabinets and shelves. It had a few urns and cemetery-inspired artwork on the walls. Books of varying sizes were stacked everywhere. There was a single chair for guests opposite his his desk.

Henry guided her over to it and without a word insisted she sit. Another day, she would have argued with him. It was probably the only he and Mike agreed on.

"Why the sudden interested in cemeteries?" Dr. Bordeaux asked walked to office chair.

Mike explained his visit to the Toronto Necropolis and it's connection to Lakeshore Asylum Cemetery. "The thefts somehow connect to a homicide investigation." He looked at Vicki.

She explained her private investigation was somehow related and the possible connection to occult rituals associated with burial artifacts.

The anthropologist focused on Mike. "You haven't read the theft report." Pause. "A cult leader was committed in the early seventies. Accounts vary. But he died. A probable overdose. He was cremated. But his followers were convinced his body was buried in the catacombs that were already sealed at the time of his death." He handed a folder to Mike. "Two women claiming to be the leader's spirit wives found a way to break the seal and steal the stone from what they said was his coffin in an attempt to revive him."

"Were any bodies removes from the catacomb?" Mike sounded like he knew something.

"A body they claimed was their cult leader. She was the daughter of a psychiatrist that worked at the hospital." Dr. Bordeaux motioned toward the folder. "For some reason the cultists threw the remains off a bridge. They were recovered and re-interred."

Mike nodded.

"They kept the crypt stone?"

"I don't know. Considering how much it weighed, we suspected they somehow hid it. There was no way they could have taken it." The anthropologist shook his head.

"Obviously they did."

A few more minutes of questions resulted in nothing knew. They thanked Dr. Bordeaux and left.

Vicki felt like she was standing in the middle of a silent argument. The tension was tangible. When she stumbled on a piece of torn carpet, Henry wrapped an arm around her waist and kept it there. In an asinine display of possessiveness. Commenting was guaranteed to anger one or both of them and they needed to work together.

Mike waited until the elevator door closed. "You need to go home."

Predictable, Henry said, "She's staying with me."

"I think Sophie Lewis was killed by a woman." Vicki gave it a moment. "According to Chelsea, Colin was stalked by a woman. The person who hurt me didn't molest me.

Lewis wasn't molested." An assumption based on what Mike said about the case. She should have called Rajani and asked for details.

"Lewis' was poisoned."

She nodded as the elevator door opened. That definitely sounded like a woman. As Vicki stepped out, she looked down at her wrists. Because of the brace, she could only see one of the demon symbols. "She's trying to summon something." Maybe the cult leader.