“Then it was alive!” Rollins exclaimed, more frightened boy than veteran cop.
Chapman did not look up. “No. Just pressure, I believe.”
Fluid continued to froth out of the creature.
Samuel looked down to Khlid. “Are you okay?”
She nodded in response, got off her knees, and observed what Chapman was doing. “Please,” she said in a rattled voice. “With no fucking snark, explain.”
Chapman obliged her. “Look at yourself, Khlid. I’ve seen the spray from a headshot before, but you haven't been sprayed. It looks like someone painted you. This damn thing was filled like a balloon with... whatever this is,” he said, shaking the vial, now full to the cork with black ooze, for emphasis. “Whatever was done to this man, the answers will be right here.”
“‘Man’?” Rollins asked, regaining a measure of composure.
The sound of a small army of officers storming the basement cut off conversation. Samuel stood up and called out their position, and that the situation had been handled. Khlid watched Chapman pocket the vial and raise a finger to his lips.
Twelve officers arrived, weapons drawn. Samuel showed them the body, which caused one rookie to turn on his heel and vomit. Four men were assigned to keep a watch on the beast while the medical team was summoned. They would take the corpse to the Ministry of Health. After a thorough examination, a report would be sent back to the Seventh Precinct with all the information they could glean.
“We have to finish the search down here, then re-sweep upstairs. I have a feeling this thing’s teeth will match the marks on the wife.” As Khlid spoke, an image of the creature tearing at her own flesh danced in her mind.
Rollins was busy commanding the men in the cellar to secure the scene, but Chapman and Samuel both turned to her.
“You do not need to worry about that,” said Samuel, looking her over. “Get back to the precinct and shower.” He looked to Chapman. “We can finish here.”
Khlid wanted to protest, but he was right. She was covered in a fluid they had been calling blood—Almighty knew if that was even accurate—and her mind continued to swim. A shower and change of clothes would do wonders. Plus, the eventful morning had already generated more notes and evidence than most cases did in their entirety. Samuel and Chapman would finish up here, and by the time they were back, not only would Khlid be clean, but she would have begun the real part of the investigation: Research. Examination. Deduction.
“Fine. Give me your notes so far and I will.” Samuel and, after some pushing, Chapman, tore the morning’s pages from their books and gave them to Khlid. Only then was she willing to leave the manor.
Samuel walked her all the way to her carriage. He almost moved to kiss her goodbye, but after failing to find a spot unsmeared by black fluid, settled for brushing some matted hair from her face and an “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” And with that, Khlid left the last crime scene of her career.
3
The Reason
Back at the precinct, Khlid used one of the locker room showers. She had to dragoon one of the novice officers into operating the hand pump—the usual attendants had more pressing tasks. Her investigator's cloak was being washed by a recruit. While she preferred the fit of the civilian jacket she now wore, pinning her badge to it felt wrong.
After cleaning up, Khlid secured an investigation room with a large evidence table and a sizable chalkboard. This was all standard procedure now, but she still considered every resource of her job a gift from the Almighty. Decades ago, after the Almighty had secured power, it not only handed down countless extraordinary technological advancements, but replaced the military forces patrolling the streets with civilian policemen, more directly answerable to the community they would serve. Initially, many protested the idea of a citizen law enforcement body; but the entire experiment had worked out wonderfully.
Now Khlid was proud to follow any rule and procedure the Almighty cared to lay down. Beginning a case was an almost holy experience to her. She felt herself drawn closer to the Almighty by carrying out its will through the system it had created.
Now, children didn't grow up wishing to be soldiers, but officers. Even low-level patrolmen were treated with respect. Since their founding, The Capital Police had been a force for good in the community. Those who had been among the first to join were all heralded as local heroes. The captain of the Seventh, Khlid’s boss, was one of them.
Captain Williams had mentored Khlid, Samuel, and Chapman since their recruitment. Williams was firm, bordering on brutal with new cops, intent on weeding out the weak stomachs. As a result, his legacy was damn near flawless. He’d brought down several major gangs, for which he received the Medal of Valor from a member of the Anointed, and deployed generations of his loyal protégés in performing community outreach, building and staffing soup kitchens and homeless shelters. The captain did not believe an officer's first duty was to go after criminals. Instead, he trained the Seventh to better the community first and above all.
Khlid wasn’t sure this approach to policing would ever have occurred to her, but the results spoke for themselves. The Seventh Precinct’s jurisdiction had the lowest crime rate in the entire city.
The captain's most recent goal was the drawdown of military presence within the city itself. He argued in the city paper run by the Ministry of Truth that the police provided all of the security needed for capital citizens, and that the bad old days, when legions of troops would unilaterally announce and brutally enforce crackdowns for any minor infraction, clashed with the purpose of the Capitol Police. The Imperial paper had praised the captain as a beacon of demilitarization in the postwar Empire.
Just that past Monday, the captains of two struggling precincts had even come in to get advice from Williams. Khlid was extremely proud to work for her captain—usually. Right now, she wanted to bite his head off.
“So let me get this straight. You have in your official report that a monster fell on you?” Williams sipped tea as he watched her lay out evidence from the manor on the display table. He had offered to help on site, but, thinking of his age and constant limp, Khlid had politely declined. One doesn't become the most respected man on the force without leaving his youth behind him. Williams spent most of his days organizing community efforts or overseeing the inspectors. Khlid wished he would focus on the former now.
“Captain, I know what the fuck fell on me. I can still taste the damn thing’s blood—or whatever that was inside it.” They had been going at it for a while now. “The medical team took the creature directly to the Ministry of Health.”
The captain took a loud slurp of his tea, swallowed, and said, “Demons were killed off entirely from this region over a hundred years ago. Do I need to take you back to school? Enroll you in first-grade history class?” He gestured sarcastically past the pool of desk officers and toward the exit.
“It wasn’t a demon.” Chapman’s voice came from behind Williams.
The captain greeted him with a nod. “Don’t tell me you’re here to corroborate this. We don’t file reports on demons in cellars.”
Chapman slid past the captain and nodded to Khlid. “No, Captain. But”—he pulled the vial of fluid from his pocket and tossed it to Williams—“something horrific was done to the lord of the manor. Something that will certainly be in my nightmares.”