Chapter 1

The fourth victim

The countryside unfolded before me, a patchwork of sparse settlements, fertile farmlands, and the jagged silhouette of mountains. As my car sliced through the rain, as the heavens unleashed a torrent that drummed against the windows. I squinted through the deluge, the brooding clouds that hung ominously close to the road of the Tai Mo Shan region. The urgency of Code 140 had ripped me from my daily routine, thrusting me into the storm's embrace. Yet, amidst the chaos, the aroma of the coffee was comforting and offered a fleeting solace amidst these grim circumstances.

The homicide unfolded within a small abandoned apartment complex nestled in the desolate Kadoorie farming community. This location, with its eerie ambiance, served as an ideal haven for shamans and mages seeking to harness the foul energies and lingering spirits from an incident that had devastated the region.

Stepping out into the relentless downpour, I was grateful for the old leather coat that served me well, it was shielding me from the elements. The wind was a fickle dance partner, changing its rhythm, flinging droplets that stung against my exosed skin and carried the earthy scent of rain-soaked soil.

A solitary figure awaited, silhouetted against the doorway of the forsaken building. As my gaze adjusted, the details emerged: the lean posture, arms folded defiantly, the unmistakable cut of a police uniform. It was my elven friend Terrance.

"Looks like someone could use a steaming cup of coffee," I observed, my voice cutting through the storm.

Terrence, shivering slightly, responded with a grin, "Absolutely. This is the genuine coffee—not that synthetic soy substitute shit."

"Here you go, take your cup," I offered, extending a steaming mug towards him.

Grasping the cup, Terrence allowed the aroma to envelop him before taking a tentative sip. "Thanks, Lin. This really hits the spot… You know, you're not like the others I've worked with. You're alright in my book."

"So, is it the usual scene?" I inquired, my tone laced with a weary resignation.

"The same old story," Terrence sighed. "No witnesses, another life cut short, and the tip came from an untraceable line. But this victim… she's been left in a particularly brutal state. I reckon it's the work of your elusive killer. Didn't see the point in alerting the whole squad—just Holden."

I raised an eyebrow. "So, have you turned into an elven popsicle yet?"

Terrence chuckled, shaking his head. "Can you believe this weather? It's been relentless. Yesterday's downpour was bad enough, but today? It's a miracle there weren't any landslides. The drive over here was a nightmare with all of the potholes."

"Who arrived first, aside from you?" I asked, shifting the topic.

"Holden, about ten minutes before Pauline," Terrence replied, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Holden, huh? Did he pull his usual stunt?" I pressed with a hint of amusement in my voice.

"Yeah, he did!" Terrence laughed. "Pauline's fuming. She booted him out into the hallway."

"Alright, I'll check on Holden then," I declared, my expression turning serious. "Where's the crime scene?"

"Just through the entrance, up the stairs, and to your right," Terrence directed, his tone sobering. "Holden will be outside as a chicken shit… And Miss Caihong, be careful in there: I will probably need a tetanus shot just looking at this damn place.

Brushing past Terrance, I sought shelter from the relentless storm. The old wooden staircase groaned beneath me, a testament to the building's age. Rounding the corner, I found Holden propped against the wall, his face pale green, clutching his stomach near the sink. Despite the pungent smell that assailed my keen senses, a nostalgic grin crept across my face.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Holden. Reminds me of my academy days—running the obstacle course on a stomach full of leftover pizza and lasagna," I chuckled.

Holden glanced at me. "If you're trying to cheer me up… it's not quite working," he groaned.

"I've got coffee," I offered, holding out a cup. "Might settle your stomach… or not."

"Thanks…" Holden murmured, accepting the cup with a nod.

"So, what's the situation?" I inquired, shifting my tone to business.

Holden wiped his mouth before answering. "It is our guy alright. Based on the astral signature strips are identical to the other crime scenes: The victim is in an old bathtub: In ice. Didn't get a good look, thankfully."

"And Pauline?" I asked, my brow furrowing.

"Just follow the stench, and you'll find her—our very own pale-faced yellow troll." Holden quipped with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Christ, Arthur, I'm really not in the mood."

"Right, sorry," Holden conceded. "Down this corridor, door on the left. Can't miss it with the blood trail. Pauline's in there, working near the body. Here, take this camera; you are on photo duty since she's banned me from the premises."

"Great," I muttered, taking the camera. "And Holden, you need to stay away from the bodies. We can't have any more donut-contaminated crime scenes."

"I'll remember that Agent Caihong," Holden replied, a hint of respect in his voice.

"Drop the formalities, Holden. Just Lin like usual will be fine, okay?"

"Understood… Lin."

I couldn't help but probe a bit further. "Anyways, out of morbid curiosity, where did your Martian land this time?"

He grimaced. "I hurled it in the toilet... (Glup)... Can we drop the subject?"

"Sure thing," I said, offering a reassuring smile. "See you in a bit."

The apartment lay in ruins, its boarded-up windows and graffiti-covered walls telling tales of neglect. The acrid stench of rat urine assaulted my senses, amplified by the unsettling astral atmosphere. I pitied the shaman consultant who would later traverse this space in astral form. Ahead, a blood trail marked the path—the body likely dragged from the living room to the left corridor.

Following the crimson path, I encountered the familiar, grumpy figure of Pauline, the hulking troll with the KEP logo emblazoned across her back. She worked on the floor, surrounded by some tools. The pungent smell made it clear she wasn't pleased.

"Hello, Pauline," I ventured into the side, leaning against the door way, aiming to lighten the mood. "What's all the fuss about?

She sighed. "Let's see: I've got an idiot who throws up at crime scenes. I'm understaffed— since I am crazy enough to work during the holidays—and I'm wet and freezing my butt off. Oh, and the body's is in ice. What else…"

I extended a cup of coffee. "This might actually help."

"Yes, please. No wonder you were my best student."

"So, what can I do to assist?" I asked.

"Look around, gather evidence. I've wasted enough time prepping the body for the meat wagon. You know how they can get pissy. I spotted bloodstains when I arrived; start collecting samples. And always take pictures before touching anything. Grab the forensic tools from my briefcase in what's left of the kitchen. Once you've collected evidence, join me back here."

I hesitated a bit, my confidence waning. "You know I'm a field agent, right? This seems beyond my league."

Pauline scoffed. "Since when is Lin Caihong out of her league? That's a first."

"I… might need a break," I admitted, the weight of my role in this case bearing me down.

"Sweetie, catching them on the first three victims isn't always possible," Pauline said.

"I know, I know… And hey: Maybe you should take it easy with Holden," I suggested, trying to mediate.

"Take it easy?!" Pauline's stern tone cut through. "This is the second time I've sifted through his vomit, searching for evidence. No, I won't take it easy. Anyway, thanks for helping out." her harsh tone shifted at the end.

"My pleasure, Pauline," I teased.

"Stop that!" she grumbled, but I caught a hint of appreciation.

I stepped into the remnants of what had once been a kitchen—a cramped space with a torn-down wall. A doorway beckoned, leading to the living room. Grabbing the last coffee cup, I downed its contents in a few gulps before discarding it into the nearby sink. On the counter, the briefcase awaited, its contents revealing the tools of our trade: cotton swabs, tweezers, and a spray bottle of luminol.

The living room reeked of decay, urine, and neglect with a subtly metallic odor—likely from the blood. Trash and rubble lay scattered, a testament to the apartment's fall from grace. Amid the debris lay a blood-soaked mattress ner the wall with dirty quilts, and rags. My gaze was fixed on a wooden plank protruding from the wall, a single nail catching a few strands of hair—a clue. I snapped a photo, then, with gloved hands, secured the sample in an evidence vial.

Next, I moved to the entrance, capturing a photo of the bloodstain on the floor. The cotton swab collected its trace and was safely sealed in another evidence bag. I took the luminol and sprayed on the nearby wall revealed hidden secrets—the UV flashlight illuminating Enochian symbols along with the message "Sanctuary,". The discovery raised the hairs on my neck. This is the first time the killer leaved messages besides some cryptic enocian symbols at the crime scene. More pictures followed. I wen back into the living room wall near the blood-soaked mattress. There, the luminol unveiled another cryptic message: "Disturbed." Traces of hermetic blood magic clung into the air, unsettling and potent as it disturbed the astral space in the room.

"This should be it," I thought, my mind racing with the new clues I gathered thus far. "Ok, all done," I said, making my way to Pauline after stowing the forensic tools back in the briefcase. "Neatly packed too.".

"Thanks, sweetie," Pauline responded with a nod of appreciation.

"So what's next?" I inquired, ready for further instructions.

"I need some shots of the body before we move things around and disrupt the original crime scene," said Pauline.

Entering the bathroom, the first thing that hit me was the slightly stronger smell of blood mixed with Holden puke: It was followed by the sight of the corpse an it´s head covered with a cloth. The body bore multiple stab wounds to the gut—a gruesome tableau.

"Ok… so what can you tell me so far?" I inquired.

"Not much yet," Pauline replied. "Likely drowned, like the others. The autopsy will tell."

After taking a few photos, I listened to Pauline as she shared her observations."She was stabbed numerous times and eviscerated. Nothing indicates a struggle or resistance on the victim's part. My guess is that she was unconscious during this stage of the assault."

"Can you walk me through what happened?" I requested.

"Not now. I'd rather do preliminary lab work first and analyze the evidence you picked up. I'll give you a briefing after I finish a few tests. OK, I think you can remove the cloth from her face now."

"Aw, you sure like to spoil me," I said sarcastically, grinning and revealing my short lower orcish canine teeths. I used the back end of my pen to lift the cloth off her face. "Shit… oh god, look at the scar tattoo work on her skin. This girl liked pain."

"I had a feeling she's a pro. Don't know why, just call it a hunch."

"Which should be a first according to the killer's MO and profile: She has a SIN. I'll run the victim's name through the database to see if we hit something," I said optimistically. "What is her name?"

"According to the SIN, it's Lei Na. Now, can you take her picture without the rag on her face?" said Pauline.

I snapped a few more uncomfortable photos of the body without the cloth. "…do you still need me here?"

Pauline shook her head. "I enjoy the company, but you look exhausted. Go rest; I'll manage until the others arrive."

"Oh… Thanks for letting me off the hook. But seriously, if you need me, I'll stay," I offered.

"It's fine, sweetie. Really. You're not completely off the hook: I'll see you back at the morgue for my briefing."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. See you soon."