DISCLAIMER
Anything that you recognise is from the brilliant authors of Criminal Minds, particularly Jeff Davis, and the magnificent JK Rowling's universe.
AN:
So sorry about the really long delay!
I started my fifth year at uni in a new city and I had to find a place to live and get my marks so it wasn't that easy to find the time to write. Then the semester really started and I did not really find the time to write ; and as time passes it is harder and harder to do so.
But I am back and this is a chapter for you. The other updates will come along soon I promise.
On another note you are SO MANY to have favoured and followed this story and I am amazed. Thank you guys!
As usual drop a comment if you want, it is always appreciated, and ENJOY.
CHAPTER 4 : PECULIAR
The doors of the elevator to the Boston precinct opened and a dishevelled, sleepy and yawning Spencer got out. This is going to be a long day he thought.
In fact, his day had started, two hours ago, when doctor Bellevue, from the Las Vegas sanitarium, called about his mother's current state of mind. Apparently Diana refused to sleep because she was convinced that something dangerous was going to happen to Spencer and that he would need her. Of course, considering the nature of Spencer's occupation, those dreams happened on occasion, but usually his mother was pacified with the doctors' reassurances that she could call her son in the morning. This time however, the doctors had called Spencer and he had spent the better part of an hour calming his mother and assuring her that he was fine, just in Boston and that was why the phone at his home address kept ringing, and that she knew she could join him on his cell phone. Diana had eventually calmed down and asked Spencer to be careful. Exhausted he had fallen asleep with the phone still in his hand.
Which is why he was so suddenly awakened when, thirty minutes later, JJ called to inform him that of a new development in their case, and the phone rang directly in his ear.
- "Well Baby Girl, looks like Pretty Boy over here got up on he wrong foot …" He heard Morgan say from the bullpen. As he raised his head to answer to the tall man built like a personal trainer, Garcia chastised him:
- Don't be to hard on my Boy Genius he obviously did not get enough sleep.
She then turned to Reid and asked : "What book was so interesting this time that you could not prevent yourself from reading into the night my Good Doctor?
- It wasn't actually a book that woke me up. But since you asked, I have been reading a fascinating study about the minds of teens during - "
He never got to finish this because Morgan interrupted him:
- "As fascinating as your intellectually challenging essay must have been JJ is here, which means Hotch will be waiting for us in the conference room…. and Prentiss just arrived."
Spencer followed the man's sight to look at the pretty brunette who was even less awake then him, - and he hadn't taken his second cup of coffee yet! -. She ignored the small gathering and simply headed to the conference room, just as JJ was going to the door to signal them all inside. The group followed and took their usual seat. One spot remaining vacant.
- "David will join us on site since he was in Seattle for his vacation days ." Said Hotch, before anyone could ask about the Italian man.
Garcia got up and without prompting started the case review while JJ passed them all tablets, except for Spencer who still favoured his paper file.
- "Well my lambs we have a skeezy one for sure. She said, not even refraining from shuddering, which alerted Spencer to the potentially horrific sight to follow. Garcia may be the more sensible one of the team but she did not usually shudder while presenting cases.
Using the remote Garcia made photos appear at the same time as she presented the victims of such horrors. The first depicted a woman's body torn in unnatural angles and with a facial expression showing that she had died in extreme pain. But the most important, for the team of profilers, was that the women's eyes had been gauged out living black and bloody wholes where they should have been. The second photograph was a zoomed in picture of her eyeless face, which made them all cringe. The third picture showed the body of a young boy, who appeared to be no more then twelve, his body in the same tortured position, but his eyes where still, thankfully, present. The last picture was a very close up take on a sort of thin spoon, which sharp edges.
While the rest of the team started reading the case file for information on the victims, and the contortionist nature of the posing, Spencer searched through his paper file for the last picture: there it was, a close up on a sort of spoon, the word being the best spencer could come up with to describe this weird utensil.
Not being able to name the probable weapon used bothered Spencer, he prided himself in his search of knowledge and naming objects and behaviours was something he was particularly good at. He frowned turning the picture to look at it from a different angle.
- "What is it Reid?" asked Hotch, as he saw that the youngest of the team was clearly puzzled about something.
- "It's just the weapon left… I do not have any clue what it is. It feels like it is professionally made though, there is an indentation indicating a manufacturer of some kind." And true enough there was an indented word on the "spoon", but it was too small for Spencer to make out.
"Garcia can you enlarge the picture?" asked Hotch.
As the blond technician did so the team got the same puzzled look Spencer had before, it was impossible, even zoomed, to distinguish the name on the weapon.
- " We will just have to wait and see on scene then Spence" said JJ, and the others nodded.
- "In the mean time let's focus on what we know of this UNSUB". Said Hotch, in a voice that was loud enough for the whole team to refocus.
- "Well enucleators are typically males, and loners, so he probably acts alone. Although two victims at once is a more complicated scenario, especially because they usually are antisocial and therefore not smooth talkers. That is probably why we should assume he did not move the bodies and probably blitz attacked them." Said Emily.
- "For what I can tell the female is Agnes Martin, she is a French citizen residing in Boston because she conducted a class on anthropology. And she does have a tattoo. Unfortunately, we cannot see it with the picture because the UNSUB used some kind of object to make it totally unidentifiable. "Said Garcia. "As for the boy, well she does not have a son, so for now we have no idea who he is…" She said with a sigh. They all had the same feeling: children made cases so much more difficult to handle…
- "The marks on the tattoo are probably a forensic counter-measure. But that would mean the killer has enough control to actually think about that, which is incoherent about what we know of enucleators. They usually act based on a delusion of some kind and try to rid the victim and the world of demons and other satanical figures." Said Morgan.
- "Hum… the idea of forensic counter-measure bothers me", said Spencer. "Why would he leave the weapon behind then?".
- "Perhaps it is some kind of message?" Said Hotch, "I mean it is a pretty specific tool… Anyway the ME is waiting for us and the local police is swamped so we should get going. Reid and Prentiss I want you to go see the ME, JJ stay here and contact the family members as soon as you have an identification on the boy, Garcia check out missing children's reports, Morgan you are with me, we are going to meet Rossi on sight. He should be back from Seattle by now.
The team gathered their files and left the room, a feeling of dread in the forefront of everyone's minds. Enucleators were messy and usually very prolific, as their mission oriented killings served a purpose never totally fulfilled.
Hermione woke up feeling tired and worn out. Tonight had been hard.
After almost falling asleep preparing the subject for the mid term at the campus library, she stumbled home to her little apartment an immediately fell asleep. However Morpheus was a fickle friend and she woke up multiple times during the night, plagued with dreams of the Final Battle. Faces of her dying friends and cries for help all blurred in her mind…
Sighing she left the comfort of her own bed to make her way slowly to the kitchen where the coffee machine waited for her like a beacon of hope. Turning on the machine the young women surveyed her flat from the neat pile of papers graded and ready for her next classes, her glasses perched on it, to the small single bed and average wardrobe. It was very minimalistic.
She approached the papers to check them a final time. The blacked rimed binoculars perched on the top of the pile, had became indispensable with the residue of the curses she suffered during the war. Her optical nerves, along with the others, had been stretched too tight and prolonged reading was impossible without having massive headaches. Something a bibliophile such as herself had had to remedy. Hence the glasses.
If she was honest with herself she did not really mind them, they gave her a smart professor look which was perfect for the university, plus it made it that much harder to recognise her… for which she was eternally grateful.
After checking that everything was marked as it should be, which of course was the case as she was a perfectionist, Hermione turned towards her cellphone, silenced, which was emitting the tell tale sign of missed calls through the intermittent illumination of the screen. Three missed calls to be exact… Pressing the keys she listened to the message left behind:
- "Hello this is Nathan, Angela's husband, we met once three months ago. … Anyway I am sorry for disturbing you but I cannot seem to reach Angela and I wanted to know if you could tell her to call me back as soon as you see her. I am sure she is just very busy with work but … you never know. Thanks."
Strange, thought Hermione, she had seen Angela Friday morning for the weekly brief and she did not seem stressed, or at least no more then usual. Well it is still early, she thought, I will try calling her in a few hours.
She drank the remaining coffee from her cup and made her bag for the day, taking her class notes and her book. Personal book that is, it was a Sunday after all. She took her keys from the little bowl in the entry way, closed her door and headed for her favorite location: The Lair.
This ominous sounding location was in fact a heaven in disguise for a bibliophile such as herself. Set in the basement of a cosy little coffee shop this bookstore was a gem for the avid readers of Seattle. Composed of two separate rooms, each housings hundreds of books, journals and the eclectic comics, the shop was little known but for the aficionados. In fact she has stumbled upon it by accident when reading a book, ironic isn't it? She was trying to avoid the crowded shopping place and took a detour in the back alleys when she found this treasure. Since then, she made regular visits to the shop, to satisfy her urge for non technical books, since those could be found in the campus library.
Opening the wooden door to the establishment Hermione was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of being watched. Hyper-vigilance being rewired in her brained since Moody atoned his first "Constant Vigilance" speech, she stopped mid step and took a look behind her. The small alley was deserted except for a couple walking hand in hand and going towards the main road, and an old lady slowly walking towards the little flower shop, the only other business in the alley.
Discounting her feeling as paranoia Hermione entered the small cafe and smiled at Thomas, the middle aged man who co-owned the place with his life partner Will. Both muggles had taken a liking to Hermione when she first arrived as they shared a common interest: an endless love of books.
- "Well hello! Been a few weeks since we have seen you here, we though you might have gone blind and could not read anymore, seeing as probably read the two books you borrowed on the first night of having them !" He said a smile on his face.
Hermione chuckled: "Sorry Tom I was very busy with the semester ! How are you and Will? Business going well?"
"Well you know how it is around here, pretty quiet apart from the bibliophiles such as ourselves. Though there is a new guy coming around, always wants books on voodoo magic, not that such a thing is real of course" he said with a laugh..
Hermione gave him a tight smile and laughed, but she was not worried so she let it go. Giving him a small sign of the head she took the descending staircase in search of new reading material.
Taking a big breath Hermione welcomed the smell and sight of all books as one would greet an old friend. Or maybe they were the ones that greeted her? In any case she lost herself in the pursuit of a good book, reading back covers at an alarmingly fast rate, looking for this precious rare pearl. She never truly felt herself but with a book in hand, and considering that her social life was minimal here: being friends with a handful of people, Tom and Will included, she appreciated even more the silent solace a book provided.
As she ploughed through the extensive collection she forgot all about the phone call she received or the odd voodoo reader. She only paused in her lecture once when she found a book by a certain David Rossi.