Zathract Mist knocked at the desk, getting the attention of the man in front of him.
The man was sitting, reading a magazine. He looked up at Zathract.
“William Schrienger,” Zathract said.
“Next victim?” the man asked.
“Latest,” Zathract said simply. “Pull up all the details on him. Everything.”
The man didn’t reply. Instead he stood and walked off. Zathract walked back to his office, through the Sanctuary. He was now nineteen years of age. He was actually very close to hitting the surge. But until then, he still could use both his elemental powers and Necromancy. He would be sad when he would have to choose. The choice was clear to him, but still, it was more efficient to have both.
Zathract was tall. He still dressed in black, but they weren’t the same clothes he wore when he was young. He let his hair grown longer, but only slightly. He still wore his black gloves, which kept his Necromancy power. It was his eyes that had changed most of all. The piercing green was now clouded, as if he wasn’t paying attention. He wasn’t really. He had far too much on his mind.
When he got back into his office, he found the Sensitive waiting.
“You didn’t see this one coming,” Zathract remarked.
The Sensitive, Jay Feiling, nodded. He looked to be in his early twenties. His hair was short and curly brown. His black eyes gave one the feeling of falling down a hole with now end. He was someone who had helped stop more than one attempted murder by seeing the death before it happened. But with this case, he was having trouble.
“His actions are unpredictable. He goes on a whim.”
“We know it’s not a full whim,” Zathract said. He sat on his chair, and looked at Feiling. “He’s picking of Sanctuary staff. First the two cleavers. Then the three detectives. A junior administrator. Now a Repository sorter.”
“True,” said Feiling. “But he doesn’t plan it out. He’s got a list of Sanctuary workers, and if he finds someone on that list, he kills them. It’s almost impossible to say who he’ll kill next.”
Zathract didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked at the folder of the killer. Nixion Strange.
“What was the crime scene like? Feiling asked after a minute.
Zathract looked up. “Three dead mortals, killed by having their ribs cave in on their organs. One dead sorcerer. Skull caved in. It’s just like the others. The target’s head caved in, and the collateral damage have their ribs caved in. It’s his way of telling us who was the objective, and who wasn’t.”
Feiling nodded. “He’s not very precise, is he? He’s going by luck almost. He has no plan.”
“True, but that means we can’t predict his actions any more than he can.”
The man walked into Zathract’s office without knocking, and gave him a folder. It was the details on Schrienger.
“Anything we should know about him,” Feiling asked after a few minutes of Zathract reading over the folder.
“No. It’s as we thought. It’s just random.”
What Zathract didn’t tell Feiling was that he knew Nix was doing this for Zathract. He had no idea why, but it was for him, he knew it.
There was a knock at the door, and a boy opened it. “The Elder Council would like to see you, detective.”
Zathract nodded and stood. Normally the administrator would come deliver the message, but after seven deaths of Sanctuary staff, people were panicking. No one could find the killer, and people were afraid. People were deciding to leave, and everyone left were working hard to keep this under control.
He followed the boy to the Elders. If they had made time to see him, they must have something good to say. When he got there, he noticed one of the Elders were gone. Only the Grand Mage and another Elder were there.
“You asked to see me,” Zathract said calmly.
“Hm? Oh, yes,” the Grand Mage said. “Sorry about the boy, our administrator is busy making an arrest.”
Zathract blinked. “He’s arresting someone?”
“Yes. We’re a little short-handed at the moment.”
“But has he ever made an arrest before?”
“No. I’m sure he can handle it though.”
Zathract shook his head, not bothering to argue. “Any reason you called me here?”
“Yes.” The Grand Mage grew serious. “Have you got any leads on Strange?”
“None so far,” Zathract admitted.
“How can he be doing this? He’s an amateur killer.” The Elder spoke up, his voice indignant.
“He’s erratic, and unpredictable. He’s also smarter than he was when he was a child.”
“The thing is, Detective Mist, we’re afraid your judgment on this case may be a little… clouded.”
“My judgment is fine, thank you.” Zathract didn’t show any offense to this on the outside. A few years ago he would have narrowed his eyes and turned this into an argument. But he had to keep his calm.
“Never the less, we are putting another detective on this case with you.”
“I don’t need any help,” Zathract said, letting his fist clench a little.
“I have to insist, I’m afraid. You’ll meet your new temporary partner tomorrow.”
Zathract just walked away. Later on, yes, he would break something. But not now. Now, he just had to keep his calm.
The Grand Mage sighed as his prime detective walked away. He knew he had made the right decision. But he couldn’t help wonder if maybe Detective Mist wouldn’t be able to handle this case, considering his history with the killer.