Filia Medici paused and looked around. For a moment she felt certain that she was forgetting something…

"Filia!" Nestra called. "Don't space out. You'll get lost."

"What?" A shake of her head and the sensation passed. "Coming!"

The girl hurried down the street to rejoin her schoolmates. Penelope Prospero hung back to let her catch up, only to lean in closer as they walked along. "Were you having a romantic interlude, I wonder?"

She threw the other girl a withering look but chose not to respond. However Nestra didn't hesitate to join in on the lighthearted teasing. "Oh, right. Just what did that Dagonian soda jerk say to make you so flustered back there?"

"Nothing!" Filia protested with a grin. "I mean…" Here her voice became a mumble and she looked away blushing. "He said I had great eyes, that's all."

The other girls burst out in delighted laughter, all except for Carol, who frowned and clutched her skirts. "That boy looked to be in college. He shouldn't have been flirting with girls our age."

"He wasn't flirting with me, Carol!" Filia protested in a sort of embarrassed joy, glad to see her friends happy but wishing it didn't come at her expense. "We were just talking!"

"For six minutes, oui?" Mitzi Bisset giggled. "Tres risqué!"

"Oh, you guys are terrible," she huffed and walked faster with them making catcalls and enjoining her to not take it seriously. They all had on school uniforms which made their group stand out on the streets of New Meridian. It was the weekend, and Penelope's parents had gotten them all tickets to see a midday showing of the riotous musical 'Spamilton'. Word of mouth gave it high marks while more serious critiques labeled it 'an atrocious assault upon the ears with no sense of history, continuity or focus'. The leading male was a former professional wrestler turned actor whom everyone agreed could not carry a tune but was so hyped during his performances one couldn't help but enjoy it. They had stopped for a milkshake before the show and now Filia was paying the price for that.

Still, she enjoyed any opportunity to be with her friends. Last week they had fun at the museum, peaking into sarcophagi and marveling at examples of ancient Gigan agricultural tools. There was a mummy on display in a glass case that supposedly belonged to a long-dead Theon. Filia refused to admit how much this one had unnerved her. The shrunken dried-up corpse wore a cat mask, and she could have sworn a presence was watching her from behind its eye holes as though desperately craving something she had to offer. A week before that they visited the Cirque des Cartes at Uncle Vitale's invitation. The performers were all amazing. Mitzi couldn't stop gushing over their outfits and had to practically be dragged away, with Cerebella eagerly taking her up on an offer to design a new outfit. Dad seemed upset, but she liked to think this might go a way towards healing whatever rift existed between him and his brother.

At last the group arrived at the music hall. Filia had been here many times before, but she always appreciated a chance to drop by. It boasted an expansive outdoor lobby where paparazzi were known to mob the red carpet during premiers in the hopes of snapping pics of the latest celebrities on their way inside. Right now it was the afternoon so relatively few people were in attendance. Instead since they were still a little early the girls wandered around inspecting the gift shop or admiring posters for upcoming events.

Filia stood before a sign advertising a new production of 'Annie Goes Into the Woods'. She had a feeling New Meridian would be getting another 'unofficial' visit from Princess Parasoul and her little sister. The heir-apparent was rumored to be a huge fan of anything related to that particular brand.

"Walking is such a pain," a plaintive voice sighed from behind her. "Mother, I hate being mortal!"

In the reflection of the display case's glass three people walked past, and for some reason Filia turned to watch. Their backs were to her by this point as they headed towards the street. The tallest was dressed in white with a crown-like head ornament, while another with long mauve-colored hair and an hourglass figure wore deep green clothes of an unusual cut. The last one made her think of their homeroom teacher Mrs. Victoria, though that prim and strict disciplinarian wouldn't be caught dead wearing the revealing outfit this woman had on.

"Now, dear, don't be that way," the lady in white admonished her dark-haired daughter. "What else could I do? At least this way we can all still be together, for as long as time permits."

"I don't mind," their green-garbed companion said with the hint of a smile. "There's all sorts of interesting knickknacks to collect still. Mother, can we stop by the comic book shop on our way home? It's Free Comic Book Day and I want to see if my subscriptions have come in."

"That sounds fine, love. And Venus, don't pout like that, it'll give you wrinkles."

"Wrinkles? That's on the table too? This is going to be a very long lifetime, I can tell."

"One can hope, my darling," their mother smiled and hugged her children affectionately. "One can only hope."

Filia watched the loving family as they made their way to a white limo parked on the curb. Waiting for them were two girls dressed in maid costumes. One had short red hair and seemed to constantly be adjusting the collar of her dress as though it irritated her. The other sported long ponytails on either side of her head and had a more mature dignified air despite being quite small. She remonstrated her colleague at one point, causing the redhead to subside in sulky fashion. As the trio approached the maids opened a door apiece, allowing their mistresses to climb in. The officious one closed the doors behind them while her partner skipped over to leap into the front passenger seat. Turning to follow, the tiny maid noticed Filia and paused.

Their eyes met.

"…et BACK here! Don't you dare try to hide from ME! FILIA!"

"Come on!" the little girl in the maid costume yanked on Filia's hand, forcing her to run. "Keep up!" She unslung a huge shotgun and fired back down the alley as they splashed through puddles, the rain falling to chill their skin.

Filia still only wore her nightgown. Her feet were bare and she was shaking from cold and terror. Guns cracked behind them. People were shouting and calling out. When she tried to think, all that came to her was the sight of the feathers drifting through the air, and Black Dahlia crouched by the bed holding a bloodstained pillow.

She nearly fell. The armed housemaid jerked her forward and kept moving, forcing the traumatized teen to follow. At last they came upon a small car parked in an alley. The maid threw open the backseat and shoved Filia inside before clambering into the driver's seat. Blocks on the pedals allowed her small feet to reach them, and the getaway vehicle went peeling off through the downpour.

"Did you… get him?"

Lying shivering on the leather upholstery, Filia fuzzily realized there was someone sitting in front alongside her erstwhile rescuer. It was she who had spoken. Whoever it might be, the woman was clearly in pain by the sound of her voice and the way she doubled over clutching her stomach.

"No." The little maid responded calmly, though there was an undercurrent of fury in the way she whipped the wheel around to take curves sharper than one should under these road conditions. Filia bounced from side to side as they sped through the night. "That damn bodyguard of his got in the way." She glanced briefly at her accomplice before turning her attention to the road ahead, eyes barely above the rim of the dashboard. "You're hit."

In response the dark-haired lady gave a cough. Blood spattered against the windshield, and she lapsed shuddering into her seat. "I'll be fine." She wiped a forearm across her chin. "Samson, are they following us?"

"Not that I can see. But it's hard to make out anything with all this rain."

Filia couldn't tell who else had just spoken. Her body was cold as ice, teeth chattering, limbs shaking without stop. Nothing in her world made sense anymore.

"Now that we've gotten up to speed, who's the kid?"

The driver flicked a glance in the rearview mirror at their other passenger. "Her name's Filia. We ran into each other while I was making my escape. Dahlia seemed pretty intent on getting her back. I thought she might be useful."

Filia realized they were talking about her but couldn't seem to care. It felt like her brain was shutting down from the overload of horrible experiences she had gone through tonight.

"By the looks of her… she's a working girl. Might have been… in the wrong place at the wrong time. That would explain why they were… chasing her." The wounded woman gasped and clenched her jaw in fresh pain. After a bit she managed to fight it down enough to speak. "Marie… I heard some of the goons saying… one of the sons got plugged. Was that you?"

"I wish," replied the one called Marie.

"It's possible that… the old bastard used this as an opportunity to… clean house. If so she might be a witness. She can… offer… testimo–!"

At this the woman bent over and vomited a huge amount of blood all over the upholstery. The maid abruptly swerved into an alley and came to a stop. As the engine idled growling, she examined her partner up and down. Something shifted atop the woman's head. Yellow orbs peered at her, a silent communication seeming to pass between them. "You're not going to make it," Marie said.

"Says you," her affiliate spit. "I'm not about to punch out just yet!"

"It's not up to either of us at this stage." Her eyes drifted down to where Filia lay. "Will that do?"

"Yeah," the mysterious figure spoke in subdued tones.

"Hey, what are you–?!"

"Sorry, babe. But I can't afford to die now. There's still things I gotta do!"

The woman's voice was ragged with outraged betrayal. "Samson, you bastard, not–!"

"Goodbye…"

There came a scream, and then Filia felt something hot slide over her head. It tightened like a helmet, making her whimper. Moments later the pressure relented, allowing her to sag in relief.

After a bit she sat up, feeling woozy and shaken. Why is my scalp itching? She reached up to touch it, then noticed red eyes reflected in the mirror. Who is that?

Marie had gotten out of the car and opened the passenger door to drag out the limp body. She laid it down as carefully as she could, grimacing with the effort of moving this deadweight even that much. When she looked up, Filia had joined her. Lightning cracked, briefly illuminating the coiling creature now inhabiting the girl's hair. They stood there surrounded by garbage cans and tainted wastewater with a corpse lying between them.

"Do you have to just leave her like that?"

"She was my friend too," Marie stated. Rain washed down a child's face that held no more emotion than a statue. But her eyes stayed locked with Samson's, as if daring him to dispute this assertion. Eventually he looked away. "So what now?"

"We'll split up here and meet at the church as agreed. Anyone else who survived will go to their rendezvous points. We can decide what to do afterwards. 'Til then, be careful."

He gave only a grunt. Without another word the vengeful maid got back in her car and drove off. Filia watched the red tail lights vanish into the dark and rain.

"Hey, kid," that same voice spoke from somewhere above her head. "Got anywhere we can lay low for a couple of days? Someplace safe?"

Safe? The question made no sense. Where was safe now? What did that even mean? And who am I talking to? Maybe I really did go crazy.

"School," she finally decided. "My dorm room. I want to go there. It's empty. Vacation."

"Works for me."

Together the two of them stumbled through the rain. Filia realized she was crying at some point and didn't know how to stop. They made it there on foot, though it took the rest of the night. Without her key, Samson had to pick the lock for them to get into the dorms. Filia had started to realize something very strange was happening to her but still wasn't sure how to react. Was any of this real? Is it all a dream? She sat down on her bed, and the moment she did the realization of how tired she really was hit. Filia slumped over to let her head touch the pillow, but the moment she did the crying started again. Deep, wracking sobs that caused her whole body to convulse around them. Maybe when I wake up it really will have been a dream.

"Make this be a dream," she wept. "Make it all go away!"

"Kid, I… look, don't worry. When you wake up… well, everything's gonna be better. I promise."

Filia stood in the theater entrance. Had someone just spoken to her? The voice seemed so familiar, but she couldn't place it no matter how she tried. Confused, she turned back to the maid once more. They stared at one another. The tiny servant looked quickly all around, then back at her. And then she said something. Despite the distance between them, Filia could still clearly make out the words. 'Be careful.'

Before she had a chance to respond, that mysterious housekeeper climbed into the limo, which drove off a second later.

"Something wrong?" Penelope and Carol strolled up to her with two boxes of candy popcorn. Filia gaped at them for a moment, at a loss for what just happened. Eventually she decided not to make a big deal about it.

"Just spacing out again," she reassured them. Penelope apparently took her words at face value, but Carol frowned in concern. Hastily she sought to change the subject. "You guys ready? Where are the others?"

"Nestra went to the powder room and Mitzi…" Here Penelope glanced around. "Hey, where is Mitzi?"

The trio scanned the area but could see no sign of the foreign exchange student. Were it not for that strange encounter just now Filia wouldn't have been so worried. But she was, and the other girls quickly picked up on it. Together they dashed out to the street, and almost immediately ran into their lost friend skipping towards them up the sidewalk with a delighted smile.

Filia couldn't believe how fast her heart had been going until it actually slowed to a more reasonable pace. "Mitzi, don't go wandering off like that! You still don't know your way around the city." She noticed something different then. "Where did you get that?"

The curly-haired girl tittered as she looked down at a rose pinned to her jacket which hadn't been there before. "I bought it from ze flower girl. Magnifique, non?"

She then pointed back the way she came. Filia looked where indicated and felt weird all over again. The 'flower girl' turned out to be a homeless woman who had set up a small box stand to sell flowers close by the music hall. She hunched over her products while people walked on by pretending not to see her. Like she didn't exist. The sight of this stirred Filia's heart to pity. Initially intending to lecture Mitzi, she instead felt proud of her friend for showing sympathy to those down on their luck. It was an example worth emulating.

"It's beautiful," the Medici heir stated. "Think I'll get one too."

"Filia, wait!" She turned back to a shocked Carol, who was looking at her like she might be crazy. "Are you serious? Don't go over there, that person is… a hobo! They're dangerous! They use drugs! And they smell!"

"Oh, c'mon, Carol," her friend sighed in admonishment. "Show a little charity. I'm sure there's nothing to be afraid of." And she started to walk forward, feeling only a little ridiculous at how unnerved this really made her.

"Well… I'm coming too, then!" Moments later Carol rushed up to join her. Mitzi was delightedly regaling Penelope with the traditional uses of flowers in dresses, giving her an excuse not to join them. Filia couldn't blame her. Despite any good intentions this just felt… wrong, somehow.

Determinedly she forced herself past such ungracious feelings. Her parents would be ashamed to think their daughter could be so coldhearted. At last the two schoolgirls came up to the shabby little stand. "Excuse me." Filia tried to put an extra bit of cheer in her voice. "Can we see your flowers?"

"Of course."

She shivered at those words. Carol clutched her arm protectively. The homeless woman crouched before them dressed in greasy rags. Even hunched down she was so tall her head still crested well over Filia's. A filthy white shawl covered her shoulders. The term 'flower girl' was even more inappropriate up close, for this lady seemed positively ancient. 'Wasted' might have been an apt description. Her bare arms were withered and wrinkled, thin as twigs with sagging flesh hanging off them. Besmirched and yellowed fingernails had been chewed off. Her greasy unwashed hair was long and fell all around her face, white curls gone yellow with dirt and age. This combined with her hunched position prevented them from seeing her face. Oddly enough despite Carol's tactless comment from before, there was absolutely no scent coming off the woman at all.

The flowers might have had something to do with that. Realizing she was staring, Filia brought herself back to business. She examined the street vendor's wares and was pleased by their beauty and freshness. The blooms must have been cut just this morning. Filia couldn't recognize most of them, but they reminded her of certain exotic samples they had seen on a school field trip to the greenhouse.

"I'll take this one," Carol piped up, selecting a crocus. She held out a bill gingerly, flinching when the lady took it from her without a word. Filia recognized how upsetting this experience was for her friend and decided not to press her luck. "They're all very lovely," she affirmed, and reached towards a big pretty purple flower.

"No, dear."

Her hand paused. She regarded the flower seller in surprise, who still hadn't raised her head.

"That one's Bittersweet Nightshade. Not fit for good girls who are so kind to an old woman." The homeless lady reached down and selected a large scarlet flower bursting with petals and color. It was the size of an apple and just as red. She held this magnificent specimen out in in one gnarled palm.

"This one's for you, my dear."

Filia stared at the offering as though entranced. She could never recall having seen a flower like this before. It was the color of… blood, with petals like tiny knives sprouting in a multitude. So bedazzled, she failed to notice a sinewy hand drift beneath the table.

Beside her Carol gave a gasp and shoved Filia hard. The girl stumbled and tripped to land on her back. Shocked, she looked up in time to see the flash of light off a knife as Carol fell screaming clutching at her face. And then the homeless woman lunged forward, smashing aside the stand to send flowers raining all around them. She sprang violently upon Filia with a bloodied butcher knife held high in both hands.

Panic mobilized the girl to action. She reached up and seized the spindly wrists on the downswing. To her shock those arms proved to be possessed of a devilish strength, continuing to press down despite her terror-fueled efforts. Horrified, the girl looked up at the creature crouched atop her. Through the mass of filthy hair, a single lunatic eye blazed madly. Broken yellow teeth were bared in an unholy smile of pure delight.

"No Hairball!" the madwoman rasped. "No Skull Heart! Just you, and me! FILIA-A-A-A-A!"

The point of the knife sank towards Filia's heart, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Is this really happening? Am I about to…?

Suddenly the killer stiffened. Her mouth opened wide on a rattling hiss. Then slowly, like the petal of a flower falling, she slumped over to one side and lay facedown on the pavement, dirty hair spilling all around her.

Filia stared up at the sky panting. In a dazed fashion she realized her hands were still locked white-knuckled around the crazy lady's wrists and looked over to pull them free. Only then did she notice the ivory spear sticking out of the woman's side right where her heart would be.

As she watched in confusion the shaft popped out, blood dripping from its arrowhead tip. It went coiling back to its source where another woman stood. "Are you alright, Filia?"

She sat up blinking in disbelief. "Miss Contiello! I mean… Squigly!"

The world-famous opera singer came gliding forward to crouch beside them. Her Theon partner Leviathan wound around his mistress. The tip of his tail was stained with red gore. She examined the dead woman's remains critically where they lay unmoving, one eye hidden by a fall of soft brown hair. Then Sienna 'Squigly' Contiello took Filia's hand and helped her back up.

Without sparing another glance for the creature she had killed, the elegant debutante led her over to where Carol sat weeping. Several more people had noticed and come running over to help, and a great many voices could be heard shouting. Penelope and Mitzi huddled beside their wounded friend, while Nestra came shoving through the crowd to join them. Anxiously Filia knelt by her side as well, eyes widening in distress. A long bleeding slash cut diagonally across Carol's face from cheek to scalp. Thankfully it hadn't blinded her, but the blood simply poured out, causing one eye to shut as the girl reached up a trembling uncertain hand to touch the gash. She cringed, then noticed Filia and actually smiled. "Oh, good," Carol murmured. "You're safe."

"Carol!" Filia gasped. "You saved me!"

She lunged forward to hug her, but Carol shied back. "Oh, no, Filia, you shouldn't. I'll get blood on your uniform." Her open eye was glassy, causing Filia to worry she might have gone into shock.

"Pardon me." At that moment Leviathan snaked down between them. He examined the bleeding teen's face. Then without further ado the white dragon licked all along her wound from one end to another. In an instant the blood flow halted. As they all watched amazed, Squigly crouched to begin gently wiping off the remaining blood with a clean handkerchief. When she was finished Carol gazed at them in bewilderment. Reaching up the selfless girl touched her injury, flinching, only to give a small exclamation of surprise upon finding it had closed completely. The faintest pale scar remained, thin as a hair. "Oh!" she blinked. "It doesn't hurt anymore!"

"Wow!" Nestra breathed. "Theons really are something else! Wish I had one."

"Pray forgive this intrusion," Leviathan spoke in his courtly tones. "While medical technology has progressed to a great extent nowadays, under the circumstances I felt the young lady deserved as little discomfort as possible. There will be a scar, I'm afraid, but nowhere near as prominent as would have occurred if we left the wound to heal naturally."

Having assured herself of this, Filia wasted no time in wrapping Carol in an emotional hug. She started crying then, and before long the other girls did as well, expressing appreciation for their friend's brave action. Squigly and Leviathan stood watching them with relieved affection. A crowd milled about demanding to know what happened while others stood at a wary distance around the dead woman's body. The five teens merely wept and laughed in unsurpassed joy at being safe and alive on that sunny street.

The lights of ambulances and police cars flashed in the late afternoon sun. Sienna Contiello finished giving her statement to a uniformed police officer. She then watched from a distance as Captain of Detectives Ben Birdland spoke to the girls, all of whom were sitting with blankets wrapped around them and holding mugs of hot cocoa. These comfort items came courtesy of the 'Spamilton' show's main star, who had come barreling out when he heard there was a fight going on. Squigly felt willing to forgive the big lug a lot for such reckless bravery, but she still intended to have a talk with him tonight over dinner. He wasn't in the ring anymore, after all.

Ben flipped closed his notebook and leaned down to pat little Carol gently on the shoulder. She grinned and ducked her head in adolescent embarrassment, after which he bid them all goodbye and came striding over to join her. "That girl is lucky you were here, Miss Contiello."

"Our families have been allies for generations." She tickled Leviathan's chin while offering him a warm smile. "And you and I have known each other for years, Ben. Even if you are on the clock, will you not refer to me as Squigly?"

He crooked a smile but ignored the request as usual. Then his face lapsed into a more professional cast. "Has that woman been seen hanging around before today?"

Squigly shook her head. "Not that I know of. Was Filia able to tell you anything which might explain this affair?"

The dutiful cop sighed and ground his cheap shoes into the pavement in agitation. "She's as much in the dark as we are. By the looks of it the old bag must have been living on the streets for years. Normally I'd chalk this up to her just being crazy and the kid being in the wrong place at the wrong time, except…"

"Except the woman called her by name at the end," Squigly finished his sentence.

They both looked over at the Medici heiress. Ben frowned, his investigator's brain hard at work trying to solve this puzzle. "That girl's grandfather, Lorenzo, made a lot of enemies by the time they put him in the ground. Is it possible one of those old grudges came back to haunt them?"

"That all took place decades ago," Squigly murmured. "What kind of monster could hold onto hate that long, enough to want to hurt a child who played no part in those tragedies?"

"We all know the Medici Mafia didn't die out completely. Her uncle Vitale has been a thorn in my side for years. He and his brother are estranged, but apparently the girl still has contact with him. If this is a result of one of his dealings, I'll make sure he knows it."

A clattering noise from behind caught their attention. Both turned to look as two officers lifted the black body bag and deposited it on a waiting gurney which was then wheeled over to an ambulance.

"We'll dig up whatever we can find on her," Captain Birdland offered. "But I have a feeling we might never know what really caused this."

Squigly hugged her arms, chilled despite the warmth of the afternoon. "Such a wretched creature. Still, I can't help but feel a small amount of pity for her. She must have lived a sad and lonely life 'til now."

"Do not waste your sympathy, madam," her partner Leviathan intoned darkly as he dropped between them. "Take my word for it, both of you," and he fixed a baleful eye on that ominous black sack. "Something evil died this day."

The med boys hauled it on in, and the doors shut, separating the living from the dead.

Leviathan's comment stayed with Ben when he got back to the precinct. Perhaps this was what compelled him to visit the morgue later after catching up on his paperwork. It also meant getting away from some of their more vocal prisoners. Entering the remarkably spotless autopsy chamber with its cold sterile tiles and gleaming metal examining tables, he sought out the attendants on duty today. "Afternoon, Christine, Esther."

The strikingly beautiful chief medical examiner tilted her glasses down and smiled at him before settling her pen on the desk. "Why, Captain Birdland, what a nice surprise! We hardly ever see you nowadays. That promotion comes with its perks, doesn't it?"

Her huge assistant Esther chuckled as she went by carrying a severed arm. Ben had to resist the urge to wince. He knew this line of work attracted a certain breed of person, generally ones with a dark sense of humor and no gag reflex. Still he managed to get along with most of them. They certainly weren't the creepiest members of the Basement Bunch, as some of the younger cops liked to call them. "I don't mean to intrude. I just wanted to see if you could tell me anything about the homeless lady that was brought in earlier."

"The one who went after some kids?" Esther grunted, lips contracting into a frown. "Bad egg, that. We're glad to welcome her sort here."

"She's still further down on our list." The redheaded chief rose up and sauntered around the table to stand before him. "That mess in Little Innsmouth from this morning has kept us pretty busy. You should tell your boys to be more attentive when bagging up body parts."

"Tell that to the River King," he supplied back. "Apparently some of them tried to kidnap one of his daughters, and he takes offense to that sort of behavior. Her bodyguards got… creative."

"That's the Fishbone Gang for you," little Patty drawled as she wheeled in an alarming mess of limbs.

"We'll let you know if anything comes up." The phone rang, and Christine went over to answer it. She put her hand on the receiver and gave him another charming smile. "Looking forward to seeing you again, Captain."

If Ben didn't know better, he might have thought she was flirting with him. He had met her boyfriend once, a thorough creep who worked for the government and managed to imply just by breathing that he was smarter than you. But to his credit, the guy treated Christine like he knew how lucky he was to have her. Even jerks had their good points, after all.

Ben made his goodbyes and went back upstairs. As he opened the doors, it seemed like the noise of the police precinct ratcheted up a notch just for him.

"HEY!" a loud voice mewled from one of the holding cells. "When do you blue bozos plan on letting us out, huh? I'm going to start clawing the furniture if I have to stay in here one more minute! I tell you, those jokers had it coming, just ask Minette! You rub a kitty the wrong way, you get scratched, that's for sure!"

He groaned on the way back to his office. Part of him hoped that particular case went away quickly. Another hour of listening to more cat puns and he was liable to start climbing the walls.

It was well after dark by the time Birdland dragged himself back to his small loft. Normally he didn't feel this spent, but something about today seemed to have left its mark on his soul. Off and on throughout the evening he had found himself remembering that single staring eye spied through a mass of dirty hair that had greeted him upon reaching the scene of the crime. It was all of her face he could recall. Squigly's words remained with him too: what kind of monster had been living among them unnoticed until now?

He was too wired to sleep, and so Ben flopped down in front of the TV. He turned it on and tried to follow the movie that came up but couldn't manage to figure out the plot. Something about witches, and baking gingerbread? It seemed a little immature for a horror flick. Probably a Blomqvist production. That guy loved old fairy tales.

Before he knew it he had fallen fast asleep.

Medici Mafia… Lorenzo… Unsolved murders… Killer on the loose… No name… No face… Black… Black… Da… Destroy it… Burn the witch… Burn her… Burn… her…

"BURN THE WITCH!"

Ben scrambled up with heart beating wildly. He looked around, sensing someone in the apartment with him. But the only thing was the television. An angry mob clustered on the screen screaming with pitchforks and torches. "Burn the witch!" they chanted. "Burn her to ash!"

His mother told him sometimes about premonitions she had throughout her life. According to her they were always true and should never be discounted. Ben certainly believed that she believed, and up 'til now that had been enough. But for the first time in his life, he actually felt something along the same lines, a compulsion so strong it was as though the heavens were speaking to him directly, trying to warn him.

"Burn the witch! Burn the witch!"

Ben grabbed his coat and keys and flew out of the apartment, not even bothering to lock the door behind him.

He made it to the precinct in record time and went tearing down to the basement. People gaped at him as he flew by, but it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was preventing something horrible which he felt deep in his bones.

He burst through the morgue doors and ducked as a scalpel went flying past his head, losing his balance to go tumbling to the tiled floor in the process.

"Sorry, Captain. You spooked me flying in like that. Is something wrong?"

Ben looked up to find Valerie bending solicitously over him, exposing a lot of herself in the process with no more concern than usual. Sadly the lady's personality prevented anyone in the precinct from trying to build on those considerable assets. There were rumors that she had been caught doing things to the dead bodies late at night, but if half of them were true she should have been fired or at least recommended for some pretty intensive counseling. Ben found her more disturbing than he would ever be willing to admit.

He jumped up and looked around. "Where's Christine?"

"Shift change," Val replied with a shrug. "You missed her by a few minutes." The gorgeous yet icy woman then slipped back to the examining table to rejoin Holly. Marginally less eerie than her partner, the smaller girl wore a black facemask at all times and was the source of other troubling office gossip. They made quite a pair. If you liked creepy with a biting sense of humor.

Through the office window he could see Esther shrugging into her trenchcoat and hat as she prepared to leave. No time to waste. He turned back to Val and said, "Have you finished your examination of the suspect from the music hall incident?"

She exchanged a glance with Holly, who lifted her eyebrows in a dismissive gesture. Valerie leaned against the table and crossed her arms. "I believe so. Christine mentioned you took an interest in it. The fingerprints will need to be checked against available records along with the dental report, but if you want an identity it'll take–"

"No. I want her scheduled for cremation. Now!"

Val's unsettling red eyes bore into him hard. Slowly she levered herself up and stood with legs spread, posture suggesting he had challenged the very sanctity of her realm. "That's against procedure. We haven't even begun to try and find out who she is. She might have been involved in any number of unsolved cases before today."

Ben didn't back down from such clear wrath. This was too important. "I'm exercising my authority, and I will accept any repercussions. But I want that body destroyed tonight, understand?"

By the looks of her she was wishing that scalpel hadn't missed its mark. In the end, though, Valerie turned and stalked over to the wall where bodies were stored in compartments. She consulted a chart hanging there, then went over to one in particular. Ben followed to take up position across from her, and with a last lethal look the medical professional grasped a handle and hauled the bin out.

Before them lay an empty white sheet.

His blood ran cold.

"Hmph." Val raised an eyebrow. As the captain stared in shock she turned and called, "Esther! Do you know what happened to the body that was in Suite 2D?"

The big woman paused halfway out the door. "Oh, some federal boys dropped by again earlier. You know, the ones from those Anti-Gigan Labs the king is so bent on promoting? Any-hoo, they were looking to collect any unclaimed cadavers as always. We had done the autopsy by then so Christi said it was alright if they took it." Esther sniffed and turned up her nose. "Good riddance. That thing gave me the creeps." She turned and left.

Valerie glanced over at Ben, not bothering to hide a smirk. She traipsed off to rejoin Holly, and the two of them began conversing in low tones, casting meaningful looks back at the captain where he stood stunned.

Held in the grip of a horrible presentiment, Ben noticed a slight bulge beneath the sheet. Numbly he reached over to withdraw the wrap.

There on the metal plank was a flower, its numerous petals of a purple so dark they were almost black.

Val noticed and came back over. "Oh, right. Christine said there were a few flowers mixed in when the cops zipped her up. We must have missed one." She examined the item in question, then turned back to Holly. "Do you recognize the type?"

The girl lifted her head from preparing a syringe and stated, "It's a dahlia."

Ben Birdland closed his eyes. I was too late. We had our chance and we blew it. The veteran law enforcement officer tried to tell himself it was all over, tried to use reason to overcome that premonition from before. But he knew in the end… in the end…

Evil… Never… Dies.