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Black Moon Rising – Serpents' trails
Stella rushes trough the swinging doors, quickly surveying the morgue. A figure sitting upright on one of the dissecting tables with an evil grin. Sid a couple of meters away, standing, as she notices with relief. His back to her she can't really tell how he's feeling right now, but she guesses that he's not very happy. With a few steps she's at his side and they face the wicked character together.
Stella is sure that she has seen the face before, but it's not one of the victims, in fact not any victim at all. She growls as she recognizes one of the lab techs. He has just lost his chances of ever getting promoted. And he still has the cheek to laugh at them. The chances of keeping his job are rapidly sinking too.
"You … you should have seen … his face." he says between giggles, pointing at Sid.
Stella sees Sid's face now and it's nothing to laugh about. But apparently the brute of a lab tech doesn't notice. Not even when the ME speaks.
"Have some respect for the dead!" Sid says, and Stella hears hurt in his voice, not for himself but for the treatment of the victims whose dignity he works so conscientiously to restore.
But the lab tech just shrugs.
"For your information, Halloween is over!" Stella hisses.
"So?" the guy grins.
Stella narrows her eyes at him, "Wait, you did that trick late because you were afraid that the dead would really rise and take revenge on you."
He snorts, possibly covering a hint of uneasiness "As if! They are dead, man. How can they feel insulted?"
Stella steps a little closer and bends forward. "Oh, I would be, believe me! And I would come back to haunt you."
Sid thinks he sees a slight pallor creep into the guy's face that makes his mask a little more believable.
"Now pick up the tools you knocked over and get out of here!" Stella continues, enforcing her words with a sharp look.
Finally the lab tech has the decency to cringe. He does as he's told and trots out of the morgue, Sid gazing after him with a frown.
"I heard that Adam is planning to cook for us." Stella says to cheer him up, adding with a wink, "Apparently he has a cookbook with recipes for tons of garlic."
"With the luck we're having lately we'll get the vampire – or lab tech – with severe nasal congestion." Sid says, but he smiles all the same, the prospect of a dinner together is pleasant. "But speaking of garlic, our victim number three ate that a couple of hours before he died. I'm pretty sure that he wasn't a vampire, also because the blood I found in his stomach was his own. Ruptured ulcers. And he took aspirins against the stomach pain, lots of them. Very bad idea, but I'm guessing he wasn't aware of that."
"That is bad. Was this also the cause of death?" Stella asks.
"Yes. He may have dragged himself around for some time, but eventually the blood loss was just too much." Sid concludes.
-o-
They stand in the alley Ms Wagner has called them to. It really is a dead end. Noises from the busier street it connects to fret back and forth between the surrounding buildings, distorting themselves. Scratching against metal doors as a breeze blows them along.
"Please tell me that this is a joke." Flack says.
"I guess it's actually supposed to be a joke, it's just not funny." Angell says and Flack is glad that she seems to share his sense of humor.
They both look down at the stake, polished wood shimmering in their flashlights. A grey glimmer keeping it slightly upright. Ashes.
Angell looks up again and rubs her hand up and down Flack's arm when she sees the expression on his face. "Hey, on the upside we don't have another victim."
Flack's frown becomes less pronounced. "I still don't like the direction this is taking. On the one hand we have people panicking because of a possible serial killer; on the other hand we have people playing such tricks. And with the press-hounds having sniffed blood you can be sure things are going to blow up either way soon."
Angell nods, she wishes it weren't so. And it's not just the press they are working against. She vividly recalls the beehive that had surrounded them after the third victim. Of course they had all wanted headline news, but they don't sting unless they feel cornered. She thinks it's the internet they have to worry about, this uncontrolled playground where information can have the strangest bloom, and simple things mushroom out of control. All they can do is try and be faster, but by the looks of it they hadn't been. She's glad when Lindsay arrives at the scene. No murder, but the CSIs still have to look into this because of the possible connection. She wonders about Danny following so quietly. What's going on between those two?
"I'd like to know what's with those doors, and some other things. We'll go talk to our witness, find out more about what she really saw. But I'm guessing she was fooled. You two will be okay here?" Flack addresses the two CSIs.
"Sure, why wouldn't we be?" Danny gives his friend a strange look, lets it follow the tall detective out of the alley. He turns to find Lindsay looking at him quietly. "What?"
"I think we should talk." she says.
"'Bout what? There's nothing to talk about." is his reply.
She sighs and in silence they get down to process the scene.
After a while she begins again. "You think who am I to say that? Me who wouldn't talk about my past, even after such a long time." There's no reply. She tries again. "If you don't want to talk about … it," she avoids Ruben's name, "okay, but we have to talk, about something. Or Mac will think he has to put us on different cases. Danny, you are not like that … and I'm here, don't turn away."
He looks at her, but the silence between them remains.
-o-
Mac leafs through the files before him, now four for this case, assuming that it is one case. And a yet empty file ready for the one he has put Danny and Lindsay on, together on purpose. This last one not a murder, but seeing how this could be spinning out of control his relief is not complete. Not even when he sees Stella coming through the door.
"What's the news?" he asks, returning her smile.
"I think we may have to get rid of one of our lab techs." she says.
"Oh? You think there's a chance I can turn that into something positive for Sinclair?" Mac wonders.
Stella grins, "Just tell him we'll be saving money; that ought to make him happy any time."
"Did Sid have anything on COD of our third victim?" Mac gets back to the more important business at hand.
Stella tells him what Sid has found, adding her thoughts that for the identity of the victim they are now looking for someone under a lot of stress and most likely living alone, with nobody around who could come to the rescue. Mac nods slowly. Another murder less. In return he shares with her what Flack has told him about the fifth 'victim'.
He sees her features lighten at that, but he also sees exhaustion in her eyes. With the possibility of this case turning out to be less serious he decides to send her home, the past three days doing double shifts have been enough.
"I'll give you a lift." he adds.
But she declines this offer as he had expected. "Thanks, but I'll take the subway. I think I have proven that I can take care of myself there." she smirks.
"I know that." he says with a smile, she has told him of her little experience.
And she knows that it is the offer of a friend, not an assumption of any weakness on her part. "Good night." A small kiss lands on his cheek, "I'll see you tomorrow."
He looks after her with a lingering smile.
-o-
Stella gets on the subway train. For a moment she's surprised to see that it's quite full. There had been no body, no murder tonight. But still she thinks that people forget so quickly, even their fear. The party must go on.
It's the time when most people come back from a night out or move further into it, and are not on their way home from work like she is. And some seem to have brought the party along. She sighs. Getting a lift would certainly have been more comfortable and quiet. She suddenly feels more tired than she'd realized.
She's glad to find a seat further away from the main commotion. But still, the number of sources turns the outpour of words around her into a meaningless ululation. The rattle of the tracks hammers a rhythm into her head, the wind a high-pitched sizzle in her ears as the train winds through the tunnels with a serpent's scream.
She's looking forward to being able to close her apartment door and leave this world outside for a while. Suddenly it all seems too noisy and shrill.
-o-
Hawkes bends over the keyboard again. They have found nothing on the second victim in missing persons. No apparent cause of death from Sid either. Hawkes looks at the tox report a third time, she wasn't poisoned, he has made sure to check for even the most unusual. But there is as little proof of poisoning to be found in her blood as there are hints on her identity in any system. No fingerprints documented anywhere, no criminal record, no professional.
No genetic fingerprint either, but he looks at the DNA again all the same. He can't put his finger on it, but something in the sequence seems off. His thoughts slip to Danny and Lindsay, something off between them too. He sighs, wondering if there's anything he could do to help. But Danny won't talk to him; he hasn't even talked to Flack. And Lindsay might be bubbly when she's nervous but otherwise she's rather quiet anyway. With another sigh he turns his attention back to the DNA.
-o-
A golden glow spins silver threads through the room, silken in appearance. A fatal beauty, its true face hidden. Stella turns in her bed, the figments writhe, shrinking back and curling closer again. She breathes in, her throat protests, a gritting sensation, the air feels hot. She doesn't wake.
Shadows flicker around her, weaving a gossamer fabric that her fingers cut through as she turns again. Grotesque faces jerk across the walls and ceiling, baring teeth at her dripping with ruby flickers. They slither closer, coiling on her chest.
Heat licking her skin. Sending shivers through her. She shudders in resonance with the silhouettes. Tossing and turning, as they pull her along in a macabre dance.
She's unaware that her eyes are open, a gleaming black. Seeing, but not seeing her surroundings. She's unaware of a different darkness furling around her. Swallowing her. She's unaware.
And another cliff …
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