The Songstress Murders

by J. B. Garner

  “No, not right now.” Feeling a bit guilty, I did give him a sensual kiss and a nibble on that same ear. “I really am sorry, but there's something more important going on.” He was about to complain, but I put a finger on his lips as I pulled back. “It's so important that the only one that can help is you.”

  Long, slender fingers pulled away my hand. “Wait, wait, hold on. Hold on! What can I do? I mean, why not ask Dad? He does work for the Watch.”

  I flashed a dazzling smile. “Because I trust you, Packie. You're smart, you're sweet, and you actually care about something other than making another pile of crowns.” I set Packie down on his own feet and he swayed unsteadily. “It's something only a talented sorcerer can help me with and talent is one thing you have in spades.”

  He rubbed his whiskers and nodded slowly. “Those things are all true, I have to admit.” He arched an eyebrow. “I suppose I can help.” A little bit of that old Packie anxiety crept in. “How important is this actually?”

  “People are going to die. Maybe even everyone in the Second Ward.” I grabbed his hands and squeezed them. “You're my only hope.”

  “Your only hope?” Packie puffed up. “You're not lying, Vela honey. I can tell these things!”

  I wasn't lying actually, but Packie, for all his magical talent, has the sense of a sand merchant in the Wastes. “I know you can. Maybe you can conjure up just a little bit of that wine and some coffee and I'll tell you what I need to know.”

  “Well, sure!” Packie snapped his fingers and the room shifted from a foyer to a breakfast nook, walls and furniture melting together and shifting into a new configuration. Transmutations are his specialty and the only reason he isn’t known as more than Packard's son is his lack of ambition and drive. “But can we get a little, well, you-and-me time later?”

  “I'm sure we can find the time soon, once this case is over.” He gave me a suspicious look and I put my hand over my heart. “I swear by the Garden's shade.”

  Packie did a little hop of joy before chanting a spell to create a bottle of wine and a steaming pot of coffee. “My vast mystical lore is yours to command, oh buxom one.”

  I held back my sigh and sat down. “Thank you, Packie.” I spread my hands wide. “So tell me, what can sorcery do to destroy or banish a demon from the Pit?”

  “A demon?” He shivered as his black fur puffed out. “Why do you need to know that?”

  “Because I've had to face one down once already.”

  “You really aren't lying.” Packie chugged a mug of coffee with startling sobriety. “You really should talk to the Nymians or the Inammi about this. Nym's got demon hunting down and the entire Walled City is basically a temple to Inam. Big home turf advantage for them here.”

  “I'm not asking you to try to perform a ritual or anything yourself.” I decided on a glass of wine myself. Packie has good taste in wine. “I fear there is someone else who is, though, and I have reason to suspect there could be great danger involved in it.”

  “There certainly is!” That vaguely vacant look that usually loomed in Packie's eyes sharpened as he began to talk magic. “It isn't that sorcery is linked to the Unseen, as some zealots argue. Mana is a completely neutral force. What that means though is that it has no more or less power over Pit creatures than any other force. There's no way any mortal mage has enough mana in their bodies to win a direct confrontation against any truly powerful creature.”

  “What about using special rituals or techniques?”

  He considered it. “It's not impossible, but such a thing would need some especially enchanted artifacts to store the needed mana. High-quality gemstones are choice, as you probably know.” He pondered again. “If you could find some kind of sympathetic link to the creature, that would help, providing a framework for the ritual itself and making the energy use more efficient. Of course, that has its own dangers.”

  I tried to keep my tone even. “Such as?”

  “Your otherworldly creatures, infernal or divine, are highly in tune with magical forces and generally have centuries to practice and refine their sorcery. A sympathetic link goes both ways, you know.” He poured himself another cup of coffee.

  “Hence the danger to the sorcerer's soul?”

  “Their lives, their souls, everything!”

  I nodded slowly. It was as the Bard said, which didn't surprise me, but I needed to know more. “What kind of link could be used for something like a demon? It isn't as if they have brushes to get hair from or anything so trivial.”

  “Well, the easiest way is through whoever summoned the creature in the first place.” He poured far too much sugar into his coffee and tried to stir the thick sludge. “You bring something to our world, and you're linked to it.”

  I leaned back in my chair, mulling this new fact over as I sipped my wine. My suspicions were growing, but the next piece of the puzzle would have to come from some people that would probably kill me on sight. Still, the risk would be worth it, I hoped.

  “So … was that helpful, Vela?” Packie flashed a smile at me from across the table.

  “Yes, it was, Packie.” I stood and favored him with a smile. “Thank you.”

  “You're welcome, my lovely! So you will be coming back, right?” Expectation and lust were heavy in his voice.

  “Trust me, if I make it through this in one piece, body and soul, I'll make good.” I started to button my watchcoat as I moved to the door. “Take care of yourself, Packie.”

  Something I had never really heard in Packie's voice before broke through as Yas opened the door for me. “Be safe, Vela, and stay in the Garden's shade, okay?”

  I let out a soft sigh and nodded. “I will. I promise.” I knew the second I said it that I wouldn't be keeping that promise. The answers now lay in the proverbial tiger's den.

  From the notes of Lady Alysa Hsu, 18 Octavian 736 PC:

  I could feel the Bard's cry of freedom even in my sanctum. Glanced up from the workbench, clock was at three bells in the afternoon. It took longer than should have, but still well within the needed time.

  Put on my legs and headed to the highest balcony. The Bard wouldn't want to come here. Most likely it would try to stay far away. Its programs, its intentions did not matter though. It had a greater purpose and it would pay that heed.

  Did not need to use the song, could just will it so, but a small pang of regret made me use it anyway. Strange. Perhaps, as Vela said, the rekindling had brought more than love and passion back. It felt uncomfortable. Would have to reunite the sundered parts soon, but analysis says that I can hold out until this was concluded.

  It took longer than expected for the golem to arrive. Must have miscalculated the variances and inconsistencies caused by the years of independent activity. Still, in the end, the Bard arrived on silver wings.

  “Your song called, with blood a-burning,” it sang. “Your chains hauled, taut and a-pulling.” Sorcerer's eye showed me that testing the extent of its geasas had dimmed its animating spirit. This would not do. “Why do you call, before our fall?”

  “I called to warn you off from your course of action. You are going to break down your core if you keep pressing like this.” Shook my head. “We have a common purpose, a common destiny. Why do you rail against it so now?”

  “You think you are so wise, that your art will claim the prize, but revenge is never the path. You incur the Ragnard's wrath.” Was the soulless golem imitating pity for me?

  “This is not revenge, Bard. This is justice.” Pointed out towards the bastard's estate. “You know what he has done to us and what he has done to so many others. How many lives has he and his pet demon eaten?”

  “You cannot hide it, you cannot deny it. There is no justice met with spilled blood wet.” The golem stepped forward, wings flaring with misplaced righteousness. “It is not yet too late, to draw new cards of fate.”

  “No.” Voice was firm, strong. “The ritual is the only way forward. I have three of the rubies charged. I will have t
he other two tonight.”

  “How much more? How much loss? Guts and gore and lives lost! What of our heart's desire? Will you throw her to the fire?”

  “How dare you, you soulless automaton!” Heart was pounding hard, but not in the way Vela enflamed it. A hiss rose in my throat. “I will do anything, everything, to protect Vela! There is no way you can truly understand what we share.”

  “Do you forget, Lady, that a heart we share? And with that, Lady, a love we share?” Its voice was filled with false kindness and sympathy. How could it be anything else? It wasn't a Folk; it was a tool, a machine.

  “Vela will be mine and justice will be done.” Hoped the finality in my tone made things clear. “Your geasa is clear and you will do what I need you to do for the ritual.”

  Our gazes locked and could feel the thrum of its spirit against the enchantments for a long moment but, as it should be, the golem relented, visibly weakened. “Yes, if that is your will, I have no recourse. I plead ever still, though, to change your course.”

  Clocks rang six bells. Had this really taken so long? Had to get my tools prepared for this evening. “The deal has been made, Bard. It all ends soon.” I pointed at the golem. “Now do as your chains command. Until the ritual, stay far away from the Second Ward and, most importantly, stay away from Vela.”

  “As you command.” So forlorn it was that it did not make a final rhyme before spreading its wings and flying off into the early evening.

  After that unfortunately necessary delay, went back to the sanctum to get ready. Only a little further to go.

  Continued from the journal of Inspector Vela Redmane, 18 Octavian 736 PC:

  Kraatz Hoorsin adjusted his goggles. “I'm not sure what you're expecting to find that wasn't already included in my reports, Vela, but you're more than welcome to take another look at the corpses. They certainly don't care.” He stifled a chuckle. Morgue men have odd senses of humor.

  “I'm not sure what I'm looking for either,” I acknowledged. “I'll know it when I see it, I hope.” I had come back by Kraatz' office to look for some bits of evidence to back up the theory rapidly forming in my brain.

  He pulled the covers back from the three dead Foi brothers, laid out on the magically cooled slabs. Qi and Ruji were as I remembered, while Shi Foi had now joined his brothers at Zain's table. Despite their untimely deaths, I had a strong feeling they were going to be dealt a hand leading straight to the Pit. I started with Shi, putting thoughts of gods and demons out of my head and concentrating clinically on the body.

  “The cause of death for brother Shi here is, as you can see, the same as with Ruji. A silver-steel arrow shot straight through his heart.” Kraatz shook his head. “It was certainly quick, that much I can tell you.” He nibbled on a slice of cheese from his post-lunch snack. “Before you ask, the arrowhead matched the one from Ruji as well.”

  Kraatz was right, of course. The entry wound was plain as day on his bare chest, a pinpoint accurate shot. Considering the situation Cline described in his report, it was truly an amazing feat of marksmanship, one I'd be hard pressed to replicate. Unfortunately, while interesting, it had no bearing on what I was looking for, so I pushed on.

  That's when I found my eyes lingering on the extensive tattoos. They were the same as his brothers, of course, marking them both as members of the Foi Brothers gang and as high-ranking members therein. I felt there was something more, something hidden in the bright colors and Myan Tian iconography.

  “Vela, what is it?” Kraatz must have noticed the intensity of my gaze and the sudden focus.

  “I don't know, but ...” My voice trailed off as I moved over to Ruji's body. His body was still badly burned and his tattoos were as ravaged as the rest of his flesh, except for one spot on the inside of his forearm. I hadn't noticed it before and neither had Kraatz, no doubt simply counting it as caused by an irregularity of the flames, but now, as I peered closer, something else became apparent.

  It was an irregularly shaped spot of seemingly pure black ink, but under the bright lights of the surgeon's office, I could just make out various shades of very dark red. Squinting, at the right angle, it wasn't just a strange spot of negative space in the tattoo. It was a dark icon of flame, a symbol of the Unseen itself.

  “Vela my dear, you're growing a bit pale.” I could hear him come up behind me, clicking a stronger optic into his goggles. “What…” It was his turn for his voice to trail off. “Nym's cloak, surround us!”

  “Kraatz, check Shi's arm,” I said, maintaining a strict calm. “I'll check Qi's.”

  It only took a few moments of examination to confirm it. Each Foi brother had the same dark symbol woven into their tattoos. As to why Ruji's wasn't consumed by the flames, my suspicion was that the symbol was some kind of infernal mark, the connection the Foi clan had with their demonic master.

  “This is not good,” Kraatz muttered, clacking his claws together nervously. “I have to report this to Central!”

  I nodded. “Yes, you had better do that.” I shook off the cold shiver that was forcing my fur to stand on end. “I am heading out into the field. The word on the street is that the last of the Foi clan have bottled up in their homestead and, no matter what dark pact they have made, I fear it won't be protection enough for what is coming for them.” My Moral Compass whirled in its setting, trying no doubt to balance the need I felt to try to save the last of the Foi from their fate and yet still nail their tawny hides to the wall for their horrific crimes.

  In retrospect, it shouldn't have been a surprise to find that Chief Feathers was in the field, personally spearheading the Watch task force gathered at the edges of the Foi complex, almost indistinguishable from the warren of slums on the north side of the Second Ward. The only clues you were about to cross an invisible line into hostile territory were the scrawled gang sigils in blood-red ink and the subtle movements of watchful eyes. Our small collection of Watchers was nervous, with no idea just how many of the Brothers remained and when a flaming monster might descend from the skies.

  The real surprise was the few yellow-and-black Hive soldiers that had joined us. It would seem that the Fortuli Queen, with some of her numbers restored, wanted to make good on her vow of vengeance on Yung and his gang. Despite there only being four of them, I felt safer with their presence, even if they were something of a wild card.

  I put my Monocle to my eye and scanned the scene. The Bard's trail had led into the skies above the City and there was no sign of the particulate here either. It didn't mean we wouldn't have a silver-skinned intruder, though. Nervously, I double-checked to make sure I had Milady's enchanted bolt still in my bolt case.

  Verdigan nodded to me as I approached, a hand-drawn map of the surrounding blocks scrawled on cheap parchment in front of him. “Inspector, I'm glad to have another keen shot for what's about to happen.”

  Cline, cranking his heavy crossbow opposite the Chief, nodded. “Especially with yer knack for survival. Might rub off on the rest of us, aye?”

  “I can only hope so, friend.” I looked to the Chief. “Though I suspect we will have more difficulties than Yung's men.”

  “I concur. I have sent word to Nym's Cathedral and Inam's Vault, but we haven't time to wait. The longer we linger, the more likely a flaming beast or a winged assassin will complicate matters.” Feathers stroked his beak slowly as he looked over the map. “Any sign of the Bard?”

  “No, sir,” I said. “No signs of the tracking compound and I know she had no idea I planted it on her.” I pulled out my hand crossbow and gave it a check. “If we do have a golem assailant, I have a trick or two that may help us bring it is down.”

  Cline spat a thin stream of tobacco juice to one side. “Good.” He grinned. “Between that and our Hive buddies, I don't think this'll be so bad, Cap.”

  Verdigan let out a short sigh, more like a hawk's call than anything else. “Don't get overconfident, Watcher.” He stabbed a feathery finger at the map. “I don't see any other approach except
a swift, direct assault up the middle, to make a drive straight for the Foi homestead here. It's risky, but we don't have the manpower for a sustained assault and we have no more time to wait for backup.”

  I snapped a heartfelt salute, mirrored by Cline. “You have our bows, Chief Inspector.”

  Verdigan nodded and returned the gesture. “Then let us not tarry, Folk. Duty calls.”

  At first, our assault seemed to go smoothly. The problem with being dominant is that it often causes one to become arrogant and the Foi Brothers, weakened as they were, still seemed to suffer from that. My concern, though, as the first few gang members charged our group in a screaming frenzy, was that we weren't dealing with arrogant gangsters, but hardcore fanatics of a dark god. Meanwhile, we were restrained by our purpose, to bring as many to justice as we could instead of killing them where they stood.

  It wasn't long at all before things swerved out of our control and our hand was forced. Though I have been forced to kill in the line of Duty before, something I abhor and pray every eve for Myrien's forgiveness at breaking that most vital of covenants, I hadn't seen the kind of bloodshed I did that evening. To say we had misjudged the numbers remaining to the Brothers would be an understatement and, in the press of battle and the spilling of blood, I was separated from the rest of my brother Watchers, pushed down a side alley by a Wind man, one arm thin and gangly, bare of feathers as it was to allow for the Brothers' tattoos.

  As we fell to the hard stones, I managed to hold back his knife-hand from descending into my shoulder long enough to bring my truncheon upside his head. Sufficiently brained, the Brother fell to one side. I scrambled back to my feet as the unmistakable odor of sulfur and ash wafted in on the wind.

  The Ragnard was here, the smell only the forewarning of the waves of flame that descended down from above. A curtain of smoke and fire flashed across the entrance to the alley, driving me back more. I had no way to know if anyone was left alive, but I could try to press on. If the demon was bound to the Foi as I feared, perhaps I could force Yung to call the beast back. At the least, I could have the satisfaction of bringing him down before his pet demon turned everything to ash.