Blood & Magic Read online

  “In cogitatione tua.”

  Meyer pushed his thoughts outwards, attempting to locate the man's consciousness, a blimp amongst the clouds. He found it, and as if popping the balloon, Meyer's own consciousness burst though into the man's mind. He came to a rest with a thud, scrabbling to remain hidden from the man whose thoughts raced around uncontrollably. Meyer moved through his thoughts until he found a place to hide and watch his private conversation with Wade. In reality, Ruth had begun to tug on his arm, asking if he was okay after suddenly falling into a trance like state. He dared not return to her now however, it was taking all of his energy just to remain in the man's consciousness.

  “Mr Oswald. The police at Mark Fellows’ murder have found something. He left a message,” the man said to Wade.

  “What sort of message?”

  “A note sir, written... in his own blood.”

  “You took the necessary actions?”

  “We washed the message away well before DCI Stroud's team showed up.”

  The man passed a piece of paper to Wade, who snatched it from his hand. Wade's eyes widened and his jaw clenched as he crumbled the paper in his hand and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. Meyer needed to find out what that message said, and quickly. He knew what was going to happen next.

  “How did they remove the evidence?” Wade said.

  “Yes, washed it away sir.”

  Meyer turned and looked into the man's memories. Adrenaline was pulsing through the man's body which unfortunately made his thoughts as chaotic as could be, fragments of memories flashing in and out of existence like strobe lights.

  “Idiot, how is that a way to dispose of blood when they will bring in forensics?”

  “Sir, I-”

  “Are you the only one to read this note?”

  Meyer rushed between them, searching for one where the man wrote the note. Where was it?

  “Yes, sir. Well, except for our man at the scene, but as I said-”

  “Good.”

  Meyer was too late. Like a steam train hurtling into a wall, Wade reached out and smashed through the man’s consciousness using his magus, obliterating his recent memories. Meyer drew his consciousness back to reality with a thump.

  “Meyer, you okay?” Ruth asked anxiously.

  Meyer heaved air into his lungs, his chest tight and his throat dry. Across the room, Wade was striding down the corridor. He had somewhere urgent to go, but there would be no prizes for guessing where.

  “I think Mark may have been betrayed.”

  “What do you mean he was betrayed?” Ruth said, supporting Meyer's arm before he collapsed back into the chair.

  “Mark tried to write something as he died and Wade is about to have any trace of it wiped.”

  “We should talk to-”

  “The council? Who is left Ruth, who can we trust anymore?” Meyer said. “If we hurry, we can-”

  “You are in no fit state to do anything. Look at you, you're sweating as if you'd done an honest days work. You'll kill yourself, stretching your powers like they don't cost you a thing. I won't allow you to, you old fool, even if I have to knock you out and carry you back to the house myself.”

  She was right of course. He didn't have it in him to enter another mind, not tonight. His power was depleted, but without knowing what that note said, they had nothing to go on. Wade had won, again.

  - Chapter 10 -

  Crime Scene

  Alex leapt off the couch, dressed and drove faster than was legal through the roads of London, the siren blazing.

  There had been another one.

  It brought the grand total of murders to eight, at least, that was the running number. By all accounts, the real figure would be higher. Her phone had rung several times before it woke her, too many late nights on the case had begun to take their toll and she had been completely dead to the world when the call came in. The last thing she needed was to look like she was taking a back seat on a new murder.

  Turning off High Holborn onto Greys Inn Road, Alex found her destination illuminated in pulsating blue lights. She pulled into the side of the road in front of a patrol car and, flashing her warrant card to the cordon officers at the entrance, continued towards Greys Inn Gardens.

  “What we got?” Alex said.

  “Looks like the same MO. Body is cut up pretty badly. No ID as of yet,” Drew said.

  Drew Mayflower was a DI, the same rank as Alex, although he was tipped to take over as the senior investigator, given that the previous one had just walked out. Alex had been drafted across to the operation six weeks ago, following a reshuffle and a soupçon of nepotism (although she tried to ignore that fact). Serial killers are rare, especially ones acting on this scale, and being on the team of detectives who catch one is good for any career pathway. Not everyone expressed happiness when they had brought her in. Maybe because she didn't look the part: blonde hair, blue eyes, an Oxford education and excellent choice in shoes were not a normal combination for detectives who join the force as a constable and work their way up. Alex knew that wasn't the real reason they disliked her though, but she'd be damned if gossip and snide remarks would drive her out of the unit.

  “Who found him?” Alex said.

  “Security guard found the victim, called 999 immediately.”

  “Cause of death?”

  “Throat has been cut. Forensics got here about 15 minutes ago and are setting up. Minerva's CSM on this one and is organising the scene of crime guys now.”

  “How big a scene are we looking at?”

  “Stretches across Greys Inn gardens, they have set up walkways and are tracing the ingress route. Minerva is sorting out the best way to cover the area, but the guy was a mover. She has more forensics guys and uniforms coming in to help.”

  “No sign of Superintendent Stroud?”

  “Nick is on his way, but, as he was at a police gala in Liverpool, I’m not sure he will make it here anytime soon. He asked me to take the lead on this one,” Drew said.

  “Okay, I'll let you get on. You want me on door-to-door I expect?”

  “No, Dimitri and a few others are already on that. Can you chase up the pathologist, I want to know if there is anything we need to follow up on straight away.”

  Alex left Drew and headed into the forensic tent. Inside, a young lab assistant, with a scorbutic face and nervous expression, handed her white overalls and a pair of slips for her shoes. She stepped into the overalls, zipping them to her neck and wrapping the hood over her head, before pulling on the elasticated shoe covers. They were a reminder of why she always kept a pair of flats in the car, attempting to stomp across crime scenes in heels was never a good idea.

  Overhead lights had been set up all around the area, as if ready for a photo-shoot. Sure, the dead guy would get his photo taken, but the parallels ended there. As she approached the entrance to the gardens, the dark outline of the victim became apparent against the gate. The body lay slouched and almost peaceful, propped against the railings, the only sign something was wrong was the small pool of blood that collected where he lay. Alex stepped through the open half of the gate to find a man awkwardly hunched over the body.

  “What we got Chris?” Alex said.

  “Not pretty Alex, multiple lacerations across the body, his hamstring has been cut - essentially your killer slowly incapacitated him. All these wounds wouldn't have killed him though. You can see where he crawled across the grass and onto this step when the killer finally finished him off. Throat has been slit like the others, a clean cut and impossibly straight,” Chris said.

  “The incapacitating is new though, we haven't seen that before.”

  “No and there is also something very peculiar about him.”

  Following Chris's signal, Alex bent down and put on the purple latex gloves she had been given by the spotted lab tech. The victim was a fairly attractive man in his late forties, with jet black hair that flopped over his brow. His clothes were torn and bloody, but looked tailored an
d expensive.

  “Look here,” Chris said.

  He was pointing to a hole in the victims shirt, which revealed another layer of clothing behind it, the material a dark blue colour.

  “From what I can tell, although we will confirm it back at the lab, this is some sort of armour, but not like any I've seen. The force needed to get through it would be quite considerable,” Chris said.

  “Why would he be wearing protective clothing? We thinking possibly police or special forces?”

  “How can I tell that Alex?”

  “No, you are right. We can't jump to conclusions, Christ, that is what put this case into such a mess in the first place.”

  “I would imagine we are looking for a man and quite a strong one at that. I'm not sure I could have pierced it, well, at least not with such accurate lines.”

  Dr Chris Calder was skeletal in looks and stature, which made his extremely muscular physique the ever more pronounced. Alex imagined his life consisted of the morgue and the gym, which seemed to be the general consensus of everyone who knew him. His budget for supplements and protein shakes probably rivalled Alex's handbag budget, which was by no means meagre. Chris was the Home Office Pathologist and, since the case involved a serial killer, he attended every crime scene. He seemed able to shrug off how heinous the crimes he investigated were, focussing on the evidence in front of him. Alex respected that and had no trouble with him. If everyone just got on with their jobs, life would be so much simpler.

  “Has anything been removed from the body?” Alex said.

  “Nothing, the police didn't touch a thing when they arrived. Left just as you see the scene now,” Chris said.

  “Did we recover anything to identify him?”

  “Only a business card. Maybe the killer took his wallet and phone, which wouldn't fit with the other cases,” Chris said. “Perhaps he dropped it, looks like he was first attacked across the park.”

  “We think he ran from his attacker?” Alex said.

  “Maybe, although given the number of injuries he sustained, I can't imagine he could have fled from very far away,” Chris said.

  Chris handed Alex the business card, which had been placed inside an evidence bag. It was dark red with a picture of an intricately stencilled gate on both the front and back.

  “You got any idea what this means?” Alex said.

  “Afraid not,” Chris said, his attention on the body. “Look at this.”

  He adjusted the overhead light, focussing on a rip in the victim's jacket that revealed the skin beneath. A large scab and dry blood surrounded the wound.

  “What exactly am I looking at?” Alex said.

  “This wound must be quite old, see it is already starting to heal over,” Chris said.

  “Are you saying that it wasn't caused tonight?”

  “It can't have been, but then the dry blood doesn't make sense. Unless our victim didn't wash, that blood shouldn't be there.”

  “This guy doesn't exactly look like a tramp.”

  “Maybe the killer held him, before he escaped and fled here, hence this old wound. The guy managed to get this far, before the killer caught up with him.”

  “Anymore wounds like this?”

  “Not sure, but I've only just started looking,” Chris said.

  He started to check across the other rips in the clothing, Alex watching patiently as he worked. Shaking his head slightly, Chris muttered something incoherent under his breath.

  “What have you found?” Alex said.

  Chris took Alex's hand and placed it so that her fingers rested on the man's chest.

  “Feel that?” he said.

  The chest was stained red with blood, but it was only when she felt the skin did she realise what Chris was showing her.

  “What is this?” Alex said.

  “A stab wound. Quite a bloody awful one, you felt the bone underneath? This guy has been stabbed in the chest, with enough force to break bone. It would have reached his heart, he would have died in seconds,” Chris said.

  “Why stab him through the chest and slice through his neck?”

  “Now that I cannot explain.”

  “You'll get us your full report on this one as top priority, right?”

  “Of course,” Chris said and returned to examining the corpse.

  Alex stood back from the body, processing it all as she twiddled the clasp of her necklace. It had been a Christmas gift from him two years ago, a sliver pendant inlayed with her birth stone. She didn't want to think of him now, she couldn't.

  This murder was different somehow, something had gone wrong, although she had no doubt it was the same guy as the others. Drew was by the gate on the opposite side of the park, a small figure lit up by the forensics lights. Along the route, bodies in white jumpsuits examined the ground for trace evidence. Alex walked along the temporarily erected walkways that had been laid out so as not to disturb anything.

  “Tell me you've found something?” Alex said.

  “I am supposed to ask you that. We think it started here, there is blood by the railing. Perhaps he was attacked before fleeing into Greys Inn? Thing is, the gate has been bashed in with real force, the lock is completely broken. I can't imagine our victim doing that, doesn't look strong enough,” said Drew.

  Alex looked around, the lock lay in the dirt to the side of the gate, a small yellow flag sticking out of the ground to mark it's position.

  “But he couldn't have jumped over the gate, it’s spiked,” Alex said.

  Spotlights had been set around the gate, making it brighter than in daylight. There was a lot of blood. If it all belonged to the victim, how had he managed to cross the park? Alex glanced along the street and spotted something odd.

  “What the hell happened to all the lights?” Alex said pointing up at the street lamps. The whole row stood in darkness apart from one, further along the street than the gate.

  “No idea. One mystery at a time though Alex?” Drew said.

  “These are barristers chambers, you think they would let half the street be left in darkness like this?” Alex said.

  Alex retrieved her phone from her pocket and switched on the torch app, harsh white light pouring from the phone's camera flash. There was more blood to the right of the gate than the left as she stood facing the gardens. What if the victim wasn't first attacked here? If he escaped, where did he come from? Minerva would be checking the CCTV, but Alex could find it faster. She walked toward the dark end of the street, Drew following at her heel, to where a side gate opened onto a parallel street, separated by a high stone wall. Alex paused just past the gate, her instincts verified. A small drop of blood on the pavement gleamed in her torch light and in the distance, she could see another.

  “Oi, you?” Alex said, shouting back down the street to one of the forensic technicians. “Go and get some more guys, I don't think we've found where he was first attacked yet.”

  Drew crouched down and stared at the spot of the blood, glancing at Alex with pursed lips. Alex followed the dotted trail of blood down the lane, along Jockey's field and into Bedford Row. The drips on the concrete grew larger and lost their circular shape the further they got from Greys' Inn. The victim had obviously fled quickly and then slowed as he reached the park. Whether he thought he was safe, or could no longer run, Alex couldn't tell.

  “The blood stains are getting pretty large now, it must have been a bloody great wound,” Drew said.

  “But that doesn't make sense, does it? How would he stop losing blood so quickly and then was back to losing a lot of blood by the time he got to the gate?”

  “Well, he could-” Drew said and then stopped, no explanation available.

  They came to a halt, with the blood trail, outside a house on Bedford Row. Above the entrance was a 'For Sale' sign and beneath, the door was ajar. Alex made the age old call of 'Police,' into the darkness, the light from the streetlamp only illuminating a few feet into the house. There was no reply.

  “Alex, w
e should get backup,” Drew said.

  “You go get backup, I'll stay here to make sure nobody disturbs the scene.”

  He must have known she would go inside, but Alex guessed he didn't care. He probably wanted to use the fact she had broken protocol against her at a later date.

  The stairs creaked as wisps of sawdust glossed from where she stepped, blood shimmering on the steps where her torch light hit it. On the landing, the bannister rail had buckled outward, more blood marking the metal posts. The trail was obvious, but the decision to follow it alone was not so easy to make.

  Alex took a deep breath and continued into the front room, the street lamp outside casting long shadows that kept the floor concealed. The chair in the corner had toppled over and a small coffee table lay broken, the result of something or someone landing on it. Alex bent to examine it when her phone light flickered and went out. In the same instant, with a burst of sparks, the bulb of the streetlamp blew, leaving Alex in complete darkness.

  Shadows are nothing to be afraid of, only children fear shadows. She shouldn’t fear the dark. But what if the dark wasn't what she should be scared of? There was a noise, the creaking of a floorboard. It was an old house and old houses creak a lot. As long as she didn’t think about the fact someone had potentially been kept hostage here, then tortured to the verge of death, only to momentarily escape before having their throat slit and a knife plunged into their heart, Alex would be fine.

  Something brushed against her and Alex backed the wall hard enough to drive out the air from her lungs. Alex closed her eyes and held her breath, pursuing a childish comfort: if I can't see you, then you can't see me. It was childish, but she clung to that hope. With a creak, the floorboard she was standing on sinked beneath her feet, forced down by the weight of someone standing next to her.