MOAR
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.
tttttttttt
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.