Chapter 19

A/N: Thank you to all of those people who reviewed the previous chapters! Your comments have been very encouraging. Here's your next chapter; I hope you enjoy it.

Death is a test of what being human means. It probed human responsibilities and the community and asking what value humans place on their links to the past.

As a concept, it seemed vague, but to see it happen to someone she held dear made it real. Death was frightening. Yet perhaps more frightening and fascinating are the monsters closer to humans—the ones that walk among the crowds, the one who look like ordinary people, the ones who were people.

It was because of Diana that Andrew would not die of old age as he had deserved. And that mere thought crushed Diana more than the knowledge that today she lost the only childhood friend who had ever believed in her. She felt like she was losing a brother. She now saw just how much the young man meant to her, just how essential he had been all this time.

Diana had been so wrong about everything and every day she was paying the price for her ignorance.

"This is turning out to be such a beastly day." Detective Inspector Croix said, bringing her out of her reverie. "Diana I'm glad to see you safe. I didn't expect more bloodshed."

Diana found herself wrapped with a blanket that ambulances give to traumatized victims. Her face bare and her eyes reddish, she was well hidden and seated back at her car with the Italian woman. Carter was nowhere to be seen, however.

"Has Andrew's father responded to your calls?" Diana asked.

"Why yes. The Minister of State is such a serious and cold man, partly due to his detachment on feelings as a statesman, although the news of his son's death rattled him. I never want to talk to him again if not for my job."

Diana squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to remember. Andrew, pale, bloody and dead, the ground soaked through. Mouth parted, and eyes open, empty and unseeing.

"This new death must be connected to the first, don't you think?"

Detective Inspector Croix grunted. "I thought you would have enough."

Tired and dejected looking, Diana wilted in her seat. "Oh no, I have to go back. I haven't solved the stream of cases yet." Even so, she clenched her teeth at the memory, too fresh and still too painful.

"Very well then," she crossed her arms. "You sure you will be able to see clearly without any emotions attached to your deductive reasoning?"

Diana stared back from beneath her confounded gaze. "Yes."

Studying Detective Inspector Croix's eyes, Diana found nothing familiar and felt a small tinge of disappointment. "You should be glad you know. I'm finally taking the unprecedented step of releasing confidential correspondence with you because who would normally share details about a serial killer's latest victim to a 17-year old girl? If we are to do this, Diana, I would like you to not bandy about my name for your own convenience."

"I concur."

A sudden knock on the tinted window caused them to halt their conversation. Carter was back with a ramen cup filled with hot water for the Italian. After her expressing her gratitude, Carter pried away from the topic.

Detective Inspector Croix slurped a huge deal of noodles before speaking. "You see, the problem with some detectives is that they take everything at face value and call it a day. They ruled Hanbridge's death out as suicide."

Diana scoffed.

"Although I can't help but agree, the evidence is indeed overwhelming. There were fingerprints on the knife and the ropes. He climbed up the branch, tied his feet to the tree and jumped, hung himself upside down. Then, he cut his own vein in his jugular. There were no signs of a struggle that somebody did it to him. Furthermore, the flowers and the note indicate a farewell message."

"But he could be held at gunpoint! It may have been an elaborate ruse!"

The Detective Inspector went quiet for a moment as if to regard the situation. "Is Andrew Hanbridge depressed?"

"What?"

"You might not see it, Diana." She blew the steam out from her cup. "But even his parents' divorce might have caused him depression. He just never asked for help about it. It could have grown in his head. The little death of ecstasy becomes the real thing. Not murder, manslaughter, then overwhelming remorse, self-loathing, and a final attempt to obliterate it all."

"You mean he did do it to himself?" Diana asked. The slurping noises became an apparent sound in their conversation, though Diana hadn't felt relaxed at all at the obvious ASMR beside her. "He called me yesterday, he seemed fine. I have known Andrew for more than 15 years—"

"Has he been affectionate lately?" she asked, gulping down. "Do you even know if he had someone to talk to about his problems without being ashamed? Because you never knew he was saying goodbye. Most suicides in men came unexpectedly because all his friends and loved ones thought they were fine and getting better. You wouldn't have known that he was buying you flowers as a way to say farewell. You can't let your judgment be clouded by personal involvement. And when it comes down to it, Diana, how well can one person really know another?"

Diana staggered before swallowing her pride. "Please proceed."

"I made the men you met earlier to transfer the case to me after I presented astounding evidence that it is indeed connected to the first case."

Diana stared at her harshly. "All your talks about face value and shreds of evidence that you believed he killed himself. So you did find something to contradict all that."

"You see before the body was discovered..." she stopped, observing Diana whether she would be conflicted to hear calling Andrew as an object or faze her in some ways. But even if Diana was hurt, she didn't show it. "I found a certain girl just a few hours before we dispatched people to Lord Hanbridge's case. This girl had been allegedly pushed down the river here in Blytonbury to drown and was brought to the hospital calling to only speak to you."

Diana's forehead creased, "Who?"

"She won't give us her last name but she wants to speak to you. She said to tell you her name is Avery."

"Avery?" Diana gasped, pushing herself towards the Italian woman who inched away from her aggressive nature. "Oh by the nine, is she okay?"

"Oh, so you do know her." Croix pushed her slightly away for some space. She looked back at her ramen cup, finding it empty. "She didn't possess any identification cards on her and since we wouldn't want the press to get hold of her, we had a hard time trying to learn who she is. She survived by grabbing onto a boulder and passed out after some folks heard her calling for help. I must say, the will to survive in a human's nature is strong against the currents."

She chuckled at her own unsavory pun.

Diana growled. "Avery was a hostage. After Andrew slashed himself, the killer pushed Avery down the river in hopes of removing evidence!"

"What have I told you about jumping into conclusions, Diana? Trust your instincts and keep your mouth shut until you find incriminating evidence. We must talk to the girl at the hospital first. I mean your hospital."

"Alright then," Diana inhaled before rolling down the windows. "Carter, get in. Bring us to the family hospital."

Fate intervened that day. Or maybe it was just the weather. Sunday afternoon, it just started to rain; not such a dramatic act by itself, but one could ever know what else has been lined up amongst all the other insignificant arrangements.

The rain was almost tropical in its intensity. Hard, heavy sheets of last autumn water beating down against the shiny pavement before the winter comes. Puddles gleaming shiny and solid in the yellow gold of the electric lights inside, Sucy didn't know quite what to do, she was just buying groceries and brought neither an umbrella nor a car to provide shelter.

Akko was on at her flat with Professor Ursula, and regarding the state of what she and Akko had done, Professor Ursula told them to lie low for a while. The French woman would never beck to her call unless it was for Akko.

"I don't like that your beloved told her guardian everything," Loa said.

It was to be expected, after all. Loa could continue her whining, but both the French and the Japanese would never utter the word to another. They would be none the wiser if they did.

"Loa, you didn't tell me Cavendish's lapdog placed a spying device within our midst," Sucy grumbled. "Everything could have been avoided yesterday."

"Forgive me, Sucy. But I cannot detect electronics at all. All I can hear are beating hearts and blood rushing in veins."

Sucy stayed under the shade. Amusing herself from watching others running across the slippery tarmac, she realized that as soon as she stepped outside, she would be sodden. Not just damp, not just slightly wet, but soaked to the bone, hair plastered to her face, skin saturated to such a degree that she would probably need to be wrung out type wet.

"I seem to be harboring an odd feeling, because I can't wait for Cavendish to point fingers at me, again." She whispered.

"You left the bouquet on purpose didn't you?"

"It's not incriminating for me as it seems. It will add to the Brit's delusions and I will grill mushrooms happily as I watch her suffer. Those little spying devices he planted on me and Akko were of his own will. He never told anyone of it, we made him tell us the truth, remember? None of those devices are left. He came to my shop to buy flowers for Cavendish on his own volition."

"Be careful, Sucy. If you climb too high without caution, soon you slip and she can reach you."

"I'm pleased you are looking after my well-being," Sucy said before she sneezed, an alarming one.

"A cold-blooded killer caught a cold. What the world is coming to?"

"Shut it," she said, blowing her nose, slowly accepted the depressing fact that she would have to linger at the convenience store near the car stops. She waited within the unwelcoming walls that suddenly ceased to be friendly and familiar when evening rolled around, so she plodded down the steps and saw a familiar face.

Sucy saw her again. If she were the mathematical type she could give the odds on two people out of eight thousand living in such close proximity seeing one another every now and again. Sucy wasn't naïve and consumed by romantic fantasy as to believe that something like that could be the work of fate. Of course, people would see one another occasionally, it was purely coincidental.

Through these incidental meetings, Sucy and that orange haired girl had progressed to exchange polite smiles and sometimes, hellos to each other. They had, as yet, not even learned one another's names, but those encounters meant a lot to her somehow.

"It's her." Sucy murmured under her breath.

"NO, NOT AGAIN!" yelled the hoarse voice of the being older than most civilizations.

Sucy gritted her teeth, staring blankly at her coat's pocket. She couldn't believe that the doll could be so intransigent about such a thing. "What's your deal with her, Loa?"

"Are you not disturbed that whenever she's in the vicinity, I weaken?"

"Oh, you're such a drama queen for a little cotton doll."

This fact was as disconcerting to her as it was to her scornful sentient doll. Loa kept babbling about the four-eyed girl and how she was bad news and wouldn't care to explain why. Sucy didn't like being told what to do and what not to do so unless the doll gave her a decent explanation, Sucy won't obey the doll.

Sucy observed the girl. She too was a victim of the rain and stood huddled against the large panes of glass near the door, staring out at the dismal twilight. Sucy suddenly thanked the forces of nature for the early evening darkness and unpredictable weather of autumn nearing winter.

"Nice weather," Sucy commented dryly, coming to stand by her side. It was the best icebreaker she could think of.

The four-eyed girl started, as though she had thought she was completely alone in her predicament. "Sorry?"

"I was just saying... nice weather, huh?" Sucy said it again when it had sounded lame enough the first time. It was embarrassing. She was tempted to just walk away before she made an even bigger idiot of herself, but somehow she couldn't.

"Perfect weather for sunbathing," she returned with a shy smile. The way her eyes dropped after she spoke, as though she was waiting for ridicule, was completely endearing.

If Sucy wasn't already mesmerized by her, that one gesture would have won her over. Sucy still cannot explain what happened next. She can only claim that fate, having done all the hard work, grew impatient with her timidity and began to control her.

Somehow, Loa turned quiet and Sucy actually liked the silence once in a while.

A scary thought, but the only one that can explain why, completely out of the blue, Sucy said: "You know, it looks like the rain isn't going to let up for a while. Do you want to go to the diner area? I'll buy you a drink, and if you're really lucky, a doughnut."

The instant the words had left her mouth, Sucy was overcome with mortification and she could feel a searing crimson color creeping over her entire body.

"Why thank you, my name's Lotte Jansson. I sit behind you in Philosophy class." Lotte handed her a hand to shake. "Manbavaran, right?"

Sucy grinned, shaking her hand with a firm grip with a nod. "Sucy Manbavaran."

The minute she said it, Sucy was already placing their names together in her mind. Sucy shook her head in amusement and Lotte seemed to notice her quiet laughter and smiled too, her cheeks a perfect shade of light pink.

"What are your Sunday plans before the rain came?" Sucy asked gently, wishing she had something better to say.

"Oh, I was simply buying some milk. I ran out." Lotte murmured with a sigh.

Sucy wasn't sure whether she was supposed to comment or not, and thinking about it was too difficult when she was sitting there.

"I ran out of milk the last few days too," Sucy blurted finally, for fear the silence would drive her away. "I only had to buy it because I had a roommate who liked it. It's not like I'm milkaholic or anything. What about you?"

Lotte seemed taken aback by the question but her giggle made it worth it. "Oh I'm from Finland, so I guess it's a given that milk is a necessity?"

After her breathless babbling, the question did seem quite abrupt. "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Lotte flashed an obligatory smile and Sucy could swear she saw tears beneath the glasses. They shone so brightly in the fluorescent light, sending arrows of concern into Sucy's chest.

"I used to want to be an author," she confided with an air of embarrassment, "but not anymore."

"Why not?" Sucy asked.

She just shrugged again, wiping her eyes while pretending to flick her hair from her face. Sucy drank it all in, just being there in the almost deserted diner, so close to her finally. Knowing how she smelt, like cherries and vanilla, aware of her knee, so close to Sucy's and her cute fingers just a few inches away.

If Lotte didn't want to tell Sucy then, that was okay, because she could wait. Sucy meant to wait however long it took, even if she had to sit in that unfriendly place and smell the heavy aroma of frying fat from the kitchens forever.

Sucy changed the subject tentatively, wanting to know more, but afraid that Lotte wouldn't live up to the expectations she had.

She loved reading, especially the Night Fall series and when they got onto the subject, Lotte came to life. Her hands floating about between the two of them like two albino butterflies, her eyes gleaming like lanterns with blue flames inside. Sucy didn't want to speak, though she was sure Lotte would have paused to let her speak.

Sucy just wanted to take her in. Lotte's soft voice was so fast and animated as she listed the characters of the novel, the chapters, the subtext of feelings, the symbolism of every gesture and the foreshadowing of events. She described all that while making ecstatic noises at their mere mention.

Lotte lit something up in Sucy's cold bleak heart, she really did. Sucy had a sudden desire she wanted to be there to see Lotte talk about her passion when she could be free.

Sucy reached out for her drink, and Lotte's wrist, desperately trying to anchor her gesticulating hands, brushed softly against Sucy's fingers. It sent a painful pulse up Sucy's arm. Her stomach clenched sharply before a painful urge from her irritating nose came. Despite her best efforts, she sneezed and her can ended up in her lap.

They both leaped to their feet, with Sucy spraying soda all over the recently cleaned floor and Lotte staring wide-eyed in surprise and concern. Lotte rushed off to get napkins, anything to mop up the wet patch spreading down Sucy's skirt. And as soon as Lotte's back was turned, Sucy stopped flailing her arms and muttering curses and froze, watching her.

Sucy watched the way Lotte pulled out the chunks of thin paper from the dispenser with exaggerated haste as if she really was worried about Sucy's laundry.

For a minute Sucy thought, when Lotte returned with the bundles, that she was going to begin rubbing the stain. Lotte looked like she thought so too, because she bent down, but straightened just as quickly when she came to her senses. Maybe it was something a close friend would have done, but not someone she had known just over an hour.

Lotte's move made Sucy wonder if the Finnish girl felt the same way she did; if, for that one uninhibited moment, she had forgotten about reality and felt that the two of them had known each other forever.

"I don't think it will stain," she murmured, her eyes fixed on the table, rather than the patch on my long skirt to which she was referring. "You'll just have to wash them as normal."

"I have to do what now?" Sucy asked in mock-ignorance.

Lotte bathed Sucy in her smile and reproached her gently. "Don't tell me you're one of those grungy students who only get their clothes washed at the end of term when they go home."

"Oh no, I do my own laundry, what did I ever do to make you think I'm like those idiots?"

Eventually, Lotte smiled. This time, Sucy realized that they were still standing and the air had changed. People were beginning to come in for dinner and the darkness was sharper outside. It had stopped raining.

"Well, it was really nice talking to you," she murmured quickly as if she knew how much her leaving would hurt Sucy. She said it before Sucy could protest, offer to buy her dinner, or fall at her feet and beg her to say. She said it as if she knew that Sucy never would.

"Yes, you too," Sucy returned hastily, worried that her voice would crack. Sucy's face was feverishly hot and she was close to tears for some stupid little reason. Lotte was going away.

"You should get home, rest and drink lots of fluids," Lotte said, worrying sweetly. "You look like you're about to get much worse than a cold. The rain isn't helping either."

"Yes, I will. Thank you for caring."

"It's the last week for the semester tomorrow. Good luck with your exams."

"Y-you too."

The rain had vanished and Sucy cursed the fact that the sky was clear. She wanted more time with her. They walked down the steps together and then she wandered off into the night, tucking her short hair timidly behind her ears in the way that Sucy already adored. The tears in Sucy's eyes blurred Lotte's form away as she cut through the dark.

"Sucy..."

"Oh Loa," Sucy gasped, cutting her out of her previous notion. "You're back. You missed a lot."

"Be careful with that girl..." she could hear nails grazing on a chalkboard as the doll spoke. "She's no ordinary girl. She's... something else."

"W-what do you mean?"

"She's manipulating your feelings. She's making you fall for her."

"What?" Sucy gasped at the stupendous accusation, "How on earth?"

"Look, mommy, she's talking to herself!" a little kid happened to see her.

Sucy's heart soared at the little boy bluntly staring and pointing at her. The boy's mother simply gave her son a disapproving look before pulling him away.

"Exams huh?" she contemplated. "I forgot."