Chapter 10: Chapter 8

“Mr. Letterman... never owned a warehouse?” Colin scowled, pen pressing so hard into his pocketbook that it left an indentation. 

Alexia shook her head. "No, of course not. Where- where did you even hear that?” 

“We,” Colin pointed at himself then Caitlin, “went down to the Scriptorium, and found that a warehouse involved in our investigation was owned by a Butch Letterman. Your father.” 

Alexia backed away, eyes wide. “W-why...” 

“Someone was killed there,” Caitlin answered, walking in from the small kitchen space. “Don’t suppose you would know anything about that?” 

“Caitlin!” Colin scowled at the half-breed, who just shrugged. 

“I knew it...” Alexia continued backing away until she was pressed against the window, sweat dripping down her face. “You’re with them.” 

“Excuse me?” Colin, thrown off his rhythm, stepped forward. “Who-” 

“Get back!” Alexia shouted, pointing at Caitlin. “I knew it. Because why else would you have a freak like her with you? You work for that fucking murderer!” Heaving, she grabbed the vase from the windowsill, holding it above her like a weapon. “What else do you want from me? You kill my father and now you’re trying to- to... what? Just leave me alone already!” With a roar, she chucked the vase at Colin. 

Throwing his arms up, the old vase shattered against his jacket, the heavy leather protecting him from any cuts but not the bruising that quickly formed beneath his sleeves. “Just hold on a second!” He shouted, keeping his hands raised, his gun holstered. “If we wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t need to ask you all these questions. Clearly, something fishy is going on here. Whatever has happened, I can help.” 

Caitlin was crouched down, staring daggers at the other girl, her claws still sharper. 

Huffing, eyes darting between the two, Alexia stopped. “What do you want from me?” 

“Exactly as I said. Information is all I need. I promise, whoever you think we’re working for, we’re not.” Slowly, he put his pocketbook and pen down on the coffee table, keeping his palms open in a placating gesture. “I’m with the EDP, I swear to you. I’m going to reach into my pocket and pull out my badge. Is that okay with you?” 

Biting her lip, eyes darting to the gun at his side, Alexia nodded. 

“Okay then.” Lifting his jacket, Colin pulled out his badge, the bluish metal gleaming in the candlelight. A gargoyle wrapped around a large monolith, the badge intricately detailed with scales and windows, a pock-marked moon hanging above the scene. All this fit in the kite-shaped container, the ostentatiousness meant to discourage counterfeits. “I promise, I will help you. I just need you to tell me what really happened to your father.” 

“I... I-” Lips quivering, Alexia cried, tears rolling down her round face. “I just don’t know. They... he said they wanted help. Papa, he... he never hurt anyone. Not a single soul. But they... he said they wanted him to hurt people. I don’t... I don’t anything else. I-” 

Behind her, through the window, a silhouette appeared within the smog. A large, imposing figure that scampered up the wall. Colin tried to warn her, to tell her to get away, but a sound barely left his lips when a long arm shot through the glass. A hand, several times larger than normal, each finger baring too many joints, closed around Alexia’s head. Blackened nails, visible under dirty bandages wrapped around the fingers, dug their way into her skin. 

She screamed, trying desperately to pull away, clawing at her attacker. Blood dripped from the puncture wounds, running down her face in moments. 

Colin drew his pistol, aiming at the small point where the creature’s shoulder swayed in and out of view. He fired, the .45 magnum blasting through the window’s wooden frame, scraping the elongated arm. 

The creature grunted, roaring as it jumped away, tearing Alexia through the window with it. Her screams fled downward, ending in a wet splat that echoed through the night. 

Colin rushed to the window, crushing glass shards beneath his boot. “No, no, no!” Thrusting his head through the shattered portal, he saw only the vague silhouette of the creature through the smog, lurching out into the maze of alleyways below. Coughing as he pulled his head back, Colin slid his gas mask back on, stowing his badge away into his jacket. “Damn it all!” Fuming, he turned to Caitlin. 

Her mouth agape, body frozen, she muttered something under her breath that Colin failed to hear through his own heavy breathing. 

* * *

Alexia’s head was crushed, smashed against the pavement, her body twisted in every wrong direction. A trail of blood led away from her body, bloody footprints fading off as the creature fled. The footprints, large and baring six toes, bore an unusual pattern, the right foot placed further out from the left. 

Colin followed the tracks until they disappeared, the creature long gone into the night. Grinding his teeth, he sketched the footprints into his pocketbook, writing extra notes – elongated arm, long claws, clearly mutated, ghoul? - next to the sketch. Sighing, he slid his pocketbook away, taking out his lighter and staring at the etched rose. 

The flower’s outline became lighter over time, fading slowly as he rubbed it away. He’d had it for years, a gift, though the etching was more pronounced when she had been around. Tapping it a few times, he put it back into its place too, making his way over to Alexia’s body. 

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Caitlin crouched over it, on a knee before it, hand over her mouth. Her face scrunched up as she scanned the body, eyes knitted together in concentration. 

“Find something?” Colin stepped up next to her, seeing nothing but the young girl’s unfortunate murder. 

“Her scars,” Caitlin said, pointing at her shoulders. “They look weird to me.” 

Colin huffed under his mask, “Taking an interest in detective work now?” 

Scowling, Caitlin ran her fingers across the corpse’s arm. “She was panicked. Thought someone was coming for her, and they did.” She stared at the footprints, growling. “We have enough people dying down here without our own adding to the pile.” 

Nodding, Colin stepped to the other side of Alexia’ body, kneeling next to it. “Indeed.” Leaning down, he ran his fingers across the girl’s twisted shoulders, her scars uneven, lines overlapping lines. “Some of these still look new, though I’ll admit this isn’t my specialty.” Raw skin overlapped old scars, straight lines that fell at odd angles across her body. “It looks like she was lashed.” 

“Her dad?” 

Colin cupped his face, biting his lip. “Maybe, though she seemed convinced that he was a good man. Doubt she would have felt that if he had been striking her to this degree.” 

He took this time to examine her more closely, her eyes crushed into pulp, bottom half of her jaw dangling to the rest of her skull by a mere few threads of muscle. Her feet were gloved in callouses, scars covering her thighs that resembled the ones on her shoulders, old burn marks lining her palms. Old bruises ran along her arms, her burlap dress slashed and stitched back up in several places, though Colin couldn’t see any cuts poking out. He didn’t stop to consider how all this had happened to her. 

Instead, he chose to check his watch, shaking his head at its ticking arms. 20:32. “Come on, we should head back. I’ve got a tarp in the buggy we can wrap her body in. We’ll take it back for the coroner to look at, maybe get a better idea of what caused these scars.” 

* * *

The lift rumbled to life, cresting the overhanging toxins, bringing the two back into the Drowned District. Caitlin stayed silent during the whole ride back, her head pressed against the window, her scowl now a permanent part of her face. 

Colin kept his eyes forward, mind focused on the body wrapped in his trunk, and the girl’s final moments. Whoever they were, he had to assume that the one who had dragged her from the building was, if not a singular them, part of a larger group. 

“Something isn’t adding up,” he thought out loud. “Ghouls don’t plan, they don’t scheme. Had this been a dead end, had there been a reason for Mr. Letterman to own a warehouse, I could have put the killing there down as a coincidence. But then even Alexia...” 

Caitlin was looking at him, her face still tight. “Something came for her for a reason,” she said, breaking her silence. 

“Someone. Whoever that was, it wasn’t a ghoul. Not a pureblood, anyway. They took Alexia out with a purpose. Knew we were on her track, and then probably their’s next.” The lift clunked as it reached the top, and Colin drove through, the gate guard waving them past. “This isn’t just some pureblood going on a rampage. There’s more to this, but I need more. She was silenced for a reason.” 

“Her scars,” Caitlin said. “Were they... were they trying to keep her quiet that way?” 

“I just don’t know yet, but it’s possible. And her story bothers me too. She was clearly lying for most of it, but it feels like there was some truth hidden in there.” Colin swerved, avoiding a cat that jumped in front of him, turning hard to get back onto the road, his train of thought barely pausing. “Someone killed her father, screw that heart attack nonsense. Now I just need to figure out how all this connects.” 

Caitlin nodded, her expression relaxing. “So how do we do that?” 

Colin glanced at her, smirking at her use of we. “I don’t know yet. We’ll drop Alexia’s body off at the precinct, and I’ll sleep on it. Maybe the coin has some connection we can investigate. Why was there a burnt body in the warehouse? Who locked them in? There’s too many questions and not enough answers for my liking.” 

“Maybe your radio drama will tell you,” Caitlin said drily. 

“Maybe it will. Guess I’ll have to tune in next week when it airs, as Walter Nightly says to do every night.” 

Caitlin scoffed, laying her head against the glass and closing her eyes. “Wake me up when we’re back at your place.” 

“Sure thing, kid.” 

They slid into silence, the buggy leaving the Drowned District's shoddy streets for the oppressive industrialism of Ebonpoint. 

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