Chapter 2
Trampled

The inn that Caddock and Benjamin had been staying at ever since their arrival in the southern city was a high resting building on a somewhat quieter street than one normally found in New Orleans. Caddock had chosen it for precisely these reasons. This would usually mean trekking across the city to the noisiest pub he could find and spend hours drinking ails and lagers and rubbing elbows with the colorful locals; both magical and mundane.

After the sun went down, casting a sickly orange glow over the city. Benjamin would leave the inn and take in what he called the nightlife. Every night, he would grab his coat the moment the sun began to teeter on the horizon, then vanish into the dark, not to be heard from again for the rest of the night. Caddock would usually wake up to find Benjamin sprawled across the covers of his bed, often times still fully dressed.

Once he had finished examining his partner for bites and any other marks telling of Dark Magic, he would then drag his friend off the bed and onto the floor. Miraculously, Benjamin would then jump to his feet, as though he had just had the best night's sleep of his life, and then be fully awake and ready to play holiday with Caddock all over again.

Once it was truly dark, the city's more undesirable members of the magical community came out to play.

New Orleans was a city of highly concentrated magic. It was true that magic could be found anywhere and in all corners of the earth, but in most countries, there was at least one city with such a heavy population of magic that even Muggles noticed it. And there was no point in trying to hide it from them either. In America, New Orleans was one of these cities. Voodoo parlors stood on every other street, selling Muggles powdered snake fangs and burnt brick dust to rid their homes of boogiemen that did not exist. The vampire demographic outnumbered that of any other city in the world, and the disappearance of citizens in the night would often be blamed on vampire feedings and then not given a second thought.

And the witches and wizards of the city, the race that should have been enforcing order in the magical community, were not much better. Caddock had witnessed so many incidents of wands being pulled in Muggle-crowded streets that he had stopped counting. Once, he had even seen an adolescent boy perform a charm to unlock the front door of his house when he could not find his key as a gang of Muggle children played baseball not ten feet away. Had such an incident occurred in Britain, officials from the Ministry would have been swarming, performing memory charms, issuing sanction, and doing everything possible to ensure that the situation was resolved as quickly as possible.

Thankfully, none of the children in the street appeared to witness anything out of the ordinary, but the scenario only forced Caddock to think about all the incidents of magic use that Muggles had witnessed in the city. Caddock shook his head as he continued to scrawl out the rest of his notes. Didn't they know that this was exactly how witch burnings occurred; Muggles seeing to many things they couldn't possibly understand?

"Hello?" he suddenly heard a voice call out, "Is Mr. Beckett here? Mr. Beckett, are you here?"

Caddock spun towards the doorway only to find the door still closed and the lock very much in place. Quickly, his eyes scanned the rest of the room, but there was nothing there except for himself and the four walls closing in.

"Mr. Beckett," the same voice called out again. "Mr. Beckett, please, this is very urgent!"

This time he heard the voice more directly. Caddock locked in on where it was coming from and threw his gaze in the direction necessary. It was coming from the fireplace, an incoming communication by way of the Floo Network. However, he did not recognize the voice that so clearly called out his name, nor did he know the reason why anyone would be seeking him out at such a late hour on a supposed vacation.

Once he found his way to fireplace, he saw that the person calling out his name was indeed a stranger. The image in the flickering flame of the Floo was that of a woman, plain-looking with her hair pinned up, framing her face in an unattractive way. Her eyes were wild and flashing from left to right, her mouth open and catching breath like a fish trapped on land.

"Mr. Beckett," the face in the fireplace appeared much more relieved now that Caddock was in view. "I'm so glad I was able to catch you! I am Officer Genevieve Marcelle, of the American Department of Magic. I understand you were traveling with one Benjamin Leroq."

"He is my partner, yes," Caddock answered as he knelt down to the hearth. "We have been in New Orleans together for many days."

The woman, Officer Marcelle, let a low hissing breath escape her lips. She shook her head in the manner of someone who had just learned they would have to be the one to bare bad news to the world.

"And is he with you now?"

"Why are you asking these things?" Caddock asked in return. "What has Benjamin done this time?"

The woman in the Floo fire paused, as though this were a question she thoroughly did not wish to answer. "Please answer the question, Mr. Beckett," Officer Marcelle repeated herself flatly. "Is Mr. Leroq with you now?"

"No, he's not," Caddock finally confessed. "Why are you asking me these things? What has he gotten himself into now?"

The woman pursed her lips and ground her teeth so hard together, Caddock himself could hear it. "We believe we may have found him."

At that moment, Caddock was sure all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. He felt his mouth drop open and he gasped for breath as though he were now the fish caught out of water.

"What you mean you believe you have found him?" he demanded to know. "Either it's him or it isn't."

"I'm going to give you an address Mr. Beckett," Officer Marcelle ordered simply. "You will need a quill. I'll wait."

Officer Marcelle offered no answers to Caddock's questions, only continuing with her directions as though she had never been interrupted. "You will need to go to 1324 DuPont Boulevard. It is not far from your hotel, so you should have no trouble finding it."

"He carries a badge," Caddock voice became rushed as he finished scratching out the last letter. "All Aurors do. It will have his name and his photograph on it. He never left anywhere without it. You should be able to tell if it's Benjamin just from that.

"We…" she faltered, "cannot tell. Even if we did have the badge, it would be of little help to us."

"What you mean you cannot tell?"

"Please, Mr. Beckett," she said in a tone that signaled a desire to end the conversation, "just come to the address."

Caddock did not end up meeting the mysterious Officer Marcelle at the American Department of Magic. That was centered in Washington D.C., the nation's capital, and a good fifteen hundred miles away from New Orleans. The Department of Magic certainly wouldn't have transported Benjamin's body all that way just to have Caddock identify it when he was already in the same city. Even Americans weren't that inefficient.

Suddenly, Caddock shook his head, trying to rid his brain of such morbid thoughts. He was getting ahead of himself. First of all, all Officer Marcelle had told him was that they had found a body; a body that had been so horribly disfigured that the Department had not even been able to recognize Benjamin from his official Ministry photograph. And if Caddock knew his partner, there was no force on Heaven or Earth that could drag Benjamin Leroq away from a descent party and into some desolate alleyway to be murdered.

More than likely, Caddock would come back to the inn after all this and find his friend sprawled out across his bed, horribly hung-over, but still with that stupid smile on his face. And after Caddock told him what he had been up to all night, then Benjamin would laugh out loud (maybe wincing slightly, taking a hold of his aching head) as soon as Caddock finished telling him exactly what he had been doing that night.

I'm an Auror, Caddock, he could imagine Benjamin saying. You and I have probably faced worse than this three times before breakfast on an ordinary day.

Caddock finally found the address he had been directed to come to, only to find had hadn't needed directions to get there in the first place. It was the same restaurant that he and Benjamin had eaten lunch at the afternoon before.

How fitting, Caddock thought to himself as he approached the front door. The lock was still in place, but he could hear the kitchen help bustling around in the back, preparing breakfast for the city that had yet to awaken. Wiping away some of the window glass' grime with his sleeve and peered through to see their French waitress rolling silverware into linen napkins, with a sleepy, dreamy expression on her face.

Warily, Caddock knocked on the glass, bringing the girl out of her daydreams and drawing her attention to the door. Fortunately, the girl appeared to recognize him judging by the way she rushed over to him. She smiled at him through the dirty glass, but made no movement to unlock the door, as though Caddock had arrived just to see her.

"Excuse me, miss," he attempted, pointing to the lock. "Can you open the door?"

The girl offered him a polite, but confused smile as understanding did not dawn.

"Um," Caddock tried, delving into his limited French vocabulary, "Entre-vous, s'il vous plaît?

This time, the girl appeared to have a faint understanding, but sadly shook her head no before turning her back on him to go back to her silverware. Frustrated, Caddock banged his fist against the plaster wall, soon regretting his action when the sharp pain spread through the side of his palm. He soon found himself glaring through that same door window at the French girl, looking for a physical being to take out his frustrations on, at least until he got his hands on Benjamin Leroq.

But the French girl could have cared less about the way Caddock was looking at her, mainly because she was not looking at him. She had gone back to running the linen napkins through her fingers with that same dreamy expression on her face. Soon enough, though, she turned her head over her shoulder, as though someone from the kitchen called her name, and she left the counter and the restaurant empty. Caddock knocked on the front once again, but no one came. Groaning in frustration, he realized he was going to have to take drastic action if he wanted to get this over and done with any time soon.

Glancing over one shoulder and then the other, Caddock pulled his wand from his coat pocket. He was always wary of using magic anywhere a Muggle would be able to see it, there were just so many ways in which these situations could go wrong. But with all these wizards lacking discretion in this city, Caddock hardly felt it necessary to consider any other options. He was an Auror. If anyone in this city had the authority to use magic, it was him.

"Alohomora," he whispered, pointing the wand to the lock.

The door clicked open and creaked as the hinges squeaked and moved. Slowly, carefully, Caddock pushed the door the rest of the way open and crept inside. Sunlight seeped in through the cracks in the blinds, and the air carried the early morning smell of baking bread and frying bacon. A few sets of footprints could be heard scattering around the back, but the inner room appeared more or less still and silent; with no one there to meet him. Year of training compelled Caddock to keep his wand withdrawn and his entire body on edge, just waiting for any ambush or attack. If worse came to worse, it was always better to risk a Muggle seeing one holding a stick than to risk being fired upon because precious seconds had been wasted.

"Perdonez-moi?"

Caddock jumped at the soft vocal greeting. More of that same Auror training led him to spin with his wand extended. It was a big risk, but he wasn't about to ambushed.

But the person behind him could hardly be conceived as dangerous. It was the same girl who had met him at the door. She seemed surprised to see that he had made it through the locked door, but once her eyes rested on the wand in his hand, a type of understanding sounded within her that no amount of substandard French could have done.

"Ah," the girl remarked, pulling a wand of her own from one of the deep pockets of her apron. While Caddock was still processing what was happening in front of him. "Entrevous?"

Without waiting for an answer, she pointed her wand to the far counter where she had been wrapping silverware just moments before, casting a wordless charm. The counter jumped slightly, and then, scratching against the floor as it did so, pushed backwards to reveal a staircase resting directly underneath, the dust stopping in a clean line where the counter had hidden it. Excited, the girl bounced towards the shifted counter to show him what she had uncovered.

Once Caddock came closer, he was able to see what the counter had been hiding from Muggle eyes: a staircase. Alone, it was nothing special: stone and pavement, but more likely it was where the staircase led that gave reason for it to be hidden.

"Beauxbatons?" he asked the girl. He had a feeling that this girl was not quite old enough to be out of school. No truly educated wizard would stoop to such an occupation as servring food to Muggles. No one would take that kind of work if it were really just to wait for any chance wizard who needed to use the staircase.

The Americas had long had their magic schools of their own, yet it was still not unusual for families, especially those who still had connections to Europe, to send their children back to their homelands for their educations.

"Holidays?" he went on, hoping the girl's own understanding of the English language would be better than his understanding of the French. "Easter?"

Eagerly, she nodded again and again. Extending her hand, she invited him to step down into the stairway. Bowing his head in wordless thanks, Caddock made his way down the passageway. Glancing up, he saw the young girl still watching him; but the moment he looked away, the same grinding noise from before could be heard, and the light and all sight around him vanished.

"Lumos."

The light extending from his wand was not nearly as bright as the above sun had been, but he was hardly in any position to be picky. Eventually, the stairs ended, converging into a corridor, lit sparsely with torchlight. Caddock would have easily made his way without the use of the Lumos charm, yet he would not feel safe in the strange new environment without it.

Standing at the end of the corridor, barely within range of the torchlight, was a rather short woman, fidgeting where she stood, her movements flinty and nervous, like a humming bird. She was a rather plain-looking woman, nothing remarkable ugly about her. Even her robes, a dull shade of fawn-brown, failed to make her stand out.

"Mr. Beckett," she said, her voice and her stance both becoming more relaxed, "I'm Officer Marcelle. I'm glad you could make it."

"I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your promptness," Officer Marcelle told him as she led him down the hall.

Caddock kept a swift stride in order to keep up with her. It was almost as though Officer Marcelle believed she could run away from him.

Throughout the corridor, she rambled on and on with no end. It was all just a lot of filling nonsense that Caddock had stopped finding use in long ago. Caddock found himself not caring about her praises or her preparations; he wanted the truth, and he wanted it now. Besides, she could not keep up these delay tactics forever.

The end came sooner than he expected. Eventually, the corridors diverged into directions, ending in doorways. Officer Marcelle's pace finally slowed as they reached one such doorway. Caddock himself rushed ahead of her to open the door himself. A table lay resting in the center of the room, whatever lay resting atop of it covered in a white sheet.

"Please understand," she said with a grimace as she followed in behind him, "what you're about to see may be extremely disturbing. You may want to take a few moments to prepare yourself."

Instead of following the woman's instructions, Caddock took the initiative to push her aside and pull off the sheet himself.

Caddock could feel the blood drain from his face, until he was certain he now matched the sheet just below him. "What is that?"

"We believe it may be Mr. Leroq."

Now Caddock finally understood what they needed him to come down here for. What had been hidden under the snow-white sheet hardly looked as though it ever could have been human. Laying displayed before could only be described as a mess: a mass of red pulp scattered with fragments of teeth and bone, along with a few blood-drenched pieces of fabric.

Trying to maintain his professionalism while, at them same time, attempting to quell the lurch in his stomach, Caddock reached down to retrieve one of the pieces of ripped, ragged fabric. Dried, it stood stiff between his fingers and carried the heavy, metallic smell of blood; yet he recognized the material. It was a fine, dark wool, not exactly practical for the Louisiana climate. It was the same as the material of the suit Benjamin had been wearing earlier that evening when he left the inn.

Caddock nodded solemnly, feeling his muscles begin to shake. "That's him. This is my partner."

Officer Marcelle nodded, and with a wave of her wand, moved the sheet back over the remains of Benjamin Leroq. This did nothing, however, to remove the image of Caddock's disfigured friend from his mind.

"We found nine other bodies in the exact same condition," she confessed, keeping Caddock at an arms length, as though she feared viewing the mangled remains of his friend would cause all him to lash out against her.

"Do you have his wand?"

Officer Marcelle shook her head. "More than likely, it was taken from him after the attack."

"To sell?" Caddock asked, his thoughts turning to his investigative mindset. "Have you sent out notices to wandsmiths and your other offices so it can be watched for? I can give you a more than accurate description of it."

"I doubt we'll be finding it on the streets. More than likely it was taken as a trophy." Officer Marcelle spoke these words like an over-rehearsed line. "Multiple murders often collect trophies from their kills: Muggle or otherwise."

"The New Orleans Silencer?" Caddock stammered, shocked and not knowing of any other serial killers currently running through the streets. "This is what he does to his victims."

"Yes," Officer Marcelle answered, doing her best to lead Caddock out of the room where his newly deceased partner was being held. "As you can see, we know for a fact that all these men are dead—"

"Really?"

"—but we just cannot be sure what happened to these men to cause this kind of damage. It's almost as though they imploded on themselves."

"Could a curse have done this?" Caddock asked.

"Not one that I have ever seen," Officer Marcelle replied.

Caddock gulped for air, but it did nothing to quell the sickening feeling in his stomach, or the chills racing across his skin.

"I understand this must be very upsetting for you, Mr. Beckett," Officer Marcelle said, failing miserably at sounding sympathetic. "I suggest you go back to London, try to—"

"My partner and very dear friend is dead," Caddock interrupted the Department employee, not caring in the least about his manners at the moment. "Do you honestly believe I will be leaving while the person who killed him is still out there?"

"We do have our best people following this case," Officer Marcelle defended, affronted. "And more people, Aurors, will be coming in from the Department of Magic in Washington D.C. Whoever did this will not be free for much longer—"

"Your Department is underfunded, with almost no employees of caliber to their counterparts in other nations of the wizarding world," Caddock snapped back, "and this serial killer has been killing a new victim nearly every night for several weeks. A foreign Auror has just become victim number ten, and still you can tell me almost nothing.

"Forgive me for saying this," Caddock finished as he turned to leave, "but I would trust the American Department of Magic to find my lost Crup at this point in time."

Officer Marcelle did not bother to stop Caddock as he stormed away. The entire walk seemed a blur as he went back through the corridor and up the staircase. The counter opening, not as open as wide as it had been before, but just enough so he could squeeze up through the floorboard and back into the now crowded restaurant. Dozens of Muggle eyes followed him as he stepped up and out of the floor, but he didn't care. His Auror instincts did not even cause him to reach for his wand to Obliviate the entire room, despite the knowledge that this country's government would more than likely do nothing about it if he did.