Hell's Detective: Murder

by N. J. Bamford

  “Bet you’re really regretting killing your guards now.”

  * * * *

  A police vehicle drives down the streets on patrol, the officers staring intently at the empty streets and dark buildings. The sidewalks are empty, being that it’s three in the morning. According to their research, the ‘Single Family Serial Killer’ usually strikes around this time at night. They cannot fail this time, for failure means that the chief will be calling in the F.B.I. to help with the investigation. This would make the whole police department look bad to the public.

  The police car turns a corner and continues its patrol. A few minutes later, a figure emerges from an alleyway between houses, his body covered head-to-toe in black cloth. He walks over to a house and checks his surroundings before heading to the porch.

  * * * *

  Richard groans as his dry and sticky mouth irritates him enough to keep him from sleeping any longer. He gets up and leaves for the bathroom, sparing John a glance to see him sleeping peacefully. Passed the need to finish their homework and studying for their exams, the raven-haired young man knows how to have a good time. A real devil with the racing video games, at that. He has never seen someone take such tight curves as John did. No speeding down, either. He wonders if he can do the same thing in real life, if racing becomes his sport in the future.

  Richard didn’t bother with the bathroom lights and makes his way to the sink. He turns on the faucet and bends down for a drink, but stops short of the running water, nostrils flaring. A scent, deep and rich, fills the air and he is almost gagging from how strong it is.

  Blood. The rich coppery smell of one’s life fluids. A mix of both old and fresh smells. His senses kick in and he senses other things: cockiness, urgency, and above all, a desire to kill.

  ‘Shit,’ he thought, any amount of sleepiness within him quickly being replaced with fear and urgency, ‘He’s here.’

  Not bothering to turn off the faucet, Richard rushes towards his parents’ room to alert them of the danger. He suddenly feels strange, his body feeling heavy. What is wrong with him? Adrenaline warring with this strange feeling, he reaches his parents’ room and opens the door.

  “Wake up,” he yells, “Mom! Dad! The serial killer’s here!”

  “Wh-wha,” his father mumbles almost dramatically, his mother simply turning her head away, “Whad are ya...”

  “Dad...” the young Patrick looks scared. What is wrong with his parents?

  “Go back to...” Tom barely mumbles before turning on his side, snoring softly.

  “Richard,” said young man turns his head to see John leaning on the frame of his bedroom door, his eyes glossy, “Wha... what’s going... on...?”

  “Shit,” Richard causes as he realizes that they are being drugged with something, “It’s the serial killer. He’s drugging us!”

  “Huh,” John stumbles as he walks towards his friend, using the wall for support, “’M tired... sleeepyy...”

  “Don’t fall asleep,” Richard tries to yell, but it comes out as a dull moan, his energy nearly gone. The phone... He has to get to the phone now!

  Hefting John’s arm over his shoulder, the taller young man slowly heads down the stairs, cursing himself for leaving his cell phone down in the kitchen to recharge along with John’s cell phone. With each step he takes, his energy drains away faster and faster. He nearly falls a few times as John’s body becomes heavier and heavier. Upon reaching the landing, he collapses from exhaustion, struggling to stay awake. His vision is becoming blurry and everything sounds as if he is underwater. He had felt like this before, his memory giving him a time ling ago, when he was in the hospital for surgery...

  The lock on the front door clicks and Richard looks up slowly to see someone covered in black entering his house. The intruder looks around before closing the door and, upon spotting the two young men on the floor and barely conscious, walking up to them. Within the brown-haired young man’s swimming and darkening vision, the intruder crouches low near them and tilts his head. John groans, but doesn’t move an inch. Richard curses mentally. The strange gas... an anesthetic... is having a stronger effect on his friend than him.

  “Seems like it’s not strong enough,” the intruder said, pulling out a knife, “Oh, well. This will be my last house in the town. I will have it perfected upon the next town.”

  “Shi...” Richard struggles to get his body to move, but he didn’t have any energy left and his limbs feel like dead weights. The intruder, who he now knows to be the Single Family Serial Killer, comes closer, and the smell of blood is so overwhelming that he feels nauseous. The serial killer pauses as the tip of his knife is a few millimeters from the young man’s chin, a familiar scent overwhelming the scent of blood. Ash and sulfur. The scent of an inferno.

  “She’s here,” John mumbles, and Richard looks at him in shock.

  Before he could ask who, the door suddenly slams open to reveal Jenne Cordovo at the entranceway, the serial killer turning around in shock and... fear? Richard couldn’t tell, for his vision finally gives out on him.

  “Barbiturates,” Jenne said, taking a step inside, “An old-fashioned anesthetic that is formed from animal urea and the ester from the acid in apples. Used during the early years of the twentieth century before much better anesthetics were created.

  “Like it’s more modern cousins, it dulls the body’s nervous system and puts the person into a deep sleep for surgery. Side effects from its use include drowsiness, sluggishness, shallow breathing, and especially in animals, death.

  “Not commonly used these days for surgery, so not many have heard about it. That is, if you’re not a medical student.”

  Richard couldn’t hear what is being said, but the last two words ring clearly like bells. The crisp fresh air flowing in from the front door clears his head a bit and he can think. Medical student? Anesthetic? The serial killer is a doctor-in-training?

  “S-stay away,” the serial killer demands in fright, his voice barely recognizable to Richard.

  “Danny,” he utters, which catches the serial killer’s attention. This kid... the one from the high school...

  “Don’t even bother,” the serial killer, Danny, looks up to see Ellisaüch behind him, making him jump in fright at the deadly smile upon her features, “You won’t live long enough to make the threat to her.”

  ‘How did she get in here,’ Richard thought in shock, seeing Danny shaking in fright as he looks at each young woman rapidly.

  “To attack one of my own was a big mistake,” Jenne states, “Using your friend’s family business to fuel your operations, as cruel and twisted as it was, was what led me right to you. Shame I chose not to pursue you sooner. Seems now that it’s already too late for you.”

  ‘Too late,’ Richard wonders in thought, ‘Too late for what-‘

  A loud crack fills the room, quickly followed by a scream by the serial killer. He huffs a few times before he runs out of the house, the private detective quick on his heels.

  “No need to worry,” Ellisaüch smiles brightly, pulling out her cell phone, “Jenne handles these types of cases all the time by herself. She will be fine.

  “In the meantime, you guys need to get to the hospital. The gas in here is beyond thick and I gotta make certain that you guys don’t have permanent damage from it. Jenne will have my hide if anything happens to her precious brother and his friends.”

  “Wh-what are you,” Richard utters in fright. The anesthetic is not affecting her? Is she really not human, like he has suspected?

  “Oh my. Seems you can tell, but unable to say the correct words. John has more directness than you do. Or is it that your gift is not as strong as his?”

  “What?”

  “In due time, my dear. In due time...”

  * * * *

  Danny runs throughout the streets, fear gripping him tightly along with the agony of his body. What is happening to him? How did he sense that woman coming when he couldn’t sense the other?

&nb
sp; “Nowhere to run,” Jenne said as both she and the serial killer stop running in the middle of the next street, the sound of police sirens in the distance, “Best to give up now and turn yourself in as a human being, Danny Kuroga. Third-year student of University of Philadelphia and resident of Mauri Louisa Memorial Hospital. You tested your skills in the small suburbs nearby before coming here, and you’re planning to transfer to a university in New York to continue your killings.”

  “H-h-how did you,” Danny utters painfully, ripping off his face mask to reveal his red and sweaty face.

  “I wouldn’t be a good detective if I didn’t know that. You came here under the ruse of holiday with your friend to escape the law for your crimes, beginning again here with your hobby of killing all families with only a single child. You plan on leaving this town to escape the F.B.I. before they get here by tomorrow morning. The question I have for you is this: why the families with one child? Kinda odd, even for a serial killer.”

  “Heh,” Danny grins evilly, his voice sounding strange, “The survival of the fittest are the ones that have the most offspring. These healthy fools shouldn’t be so happy with just one child. They’re not limited by finances or disease. If one child is all they wish to contribute to the family, what’s the point in having a family at all? The child might fall ill and die, and the parents will be so distraught that they wouldn’t want to have another child again. They will let their family blood lines die with them for such selfish reasons. Why let them live, just for them to bring more suffering to their families and to the human race? It’s better to eradicate them and be done with it, sparing them and their relatives so much suffering later one.”

  “Still doesn’t make a lot of sense, but whatever. The sins you’ve committed have changed your mind and soul. That agonizing pain you’re feeling right now? That’s your body changing into my prey.”

  “P-p-prey,” Dan utters, his body twisting in odd shapes as the sound of bones cracking becomes louder.

  “The corruption of souls, a cancer upon all mortal life. Consuming sin upon sin until the end of time, or when the end of my weapon kills you. So corrupt is your being that you can’t maintain a human form from those like me, can’t maintain your own soul.”

  “W...wha...am...I.......”

  “The enemy of all creation. The Damned.”

  If Danny had heard her answer, he did not show that he did. Jenne watches as he writhes and screams in agony, a stony look upon her face. His muscles are bulging and growing rapidly, clothing shredding as he is covered by red and orange flames. Jenne doesn’t move as his body burns and changes form, the smell of blood very strong in the air. Knees twist backwards to resemble a lion’s back legs, fingers and toes changing into black claws. His skin burns and chars into black, cracking in areas to reveal orange light. The skin of his head melts away as he screams, his skull falling to the ground and shattering into several pieces that melt away in the flames. The neck melts away until all that’s left is a hole that spews orange fluid that ignites upon touching the air.

  “How fitting,” Jenne said sarcastically, not at all scared or impressed, “Your shattered soul has you transformed into a Murder, a headless beast that constantly kills in order to find a head that won’t burn away from the body’s intense heat. A low-level type, for the sin of murder earns a mortal a one-way ticket to hell, regardless of the reasons. Still, for someone of your reputation to be like this...”

  The burning hole upon Danny’s shoulders lets out a gurgling scream, the burning liquid spewing forth as he bends his body and covering Jenne with it. Jenne did not move or show signs of pain as the flames rise high around her until the only thing one could see of the private detective is a silhouette of her body.

  * * * *

  Lilia turns her head sharply as she looks to the distance, her senses awakening so hard that she gasps in pain. The smell of sulfur hits her nostrils along with the burning of clothes and flesh. What the hell is going on?

  “What’s wrong Lilia,” a young woman asks, holding a clipboard, “You look troubled.”

  “Something’s just came up,” Lilia replies, looking urgent, “I will be back soon. Just tell the boss I have a family emergency.”

  “What,” the young woman begins, but Lilia runs off and turns a corner, “You don’t have a family.”

  Lilia keeps running, sensing that she is getting close. As she turns another corner, though, she is stopped by a police car.

  “Sorry Lilia,” Raiden said as he gets out of the police car, “I can’t let you pass.”

  “What the hell, Raiden?! I gotta go down this way! You know what’s down there!”

  “I do, but this is a police investigation and the street is closed off. No civilians allowed.”

  “But-“

  “Don’t worry. Jenne’s there and she will take care of it. Have faith in her. She won’t be beaten that easily.”

  Chapter 8

  The robed figure swings his scythe to rid it of blood before taking a cloth out from his pouch, wiping at the blade. As he concentrates on cleaning, he doesn’t take notice of Lord Babil’s body slowly rising from the floor, his wounds dripping blood. The lord lets out a scream and the robed figure turns around quickly and dodges the blade of the axe. He watches as Lord Babil is enshrouded in flames and orange burning fluid, his body changing into that of a Murder.

  “I see that I was too late,” the robed figure states without remorse, “Good. As much as your victims have the right to tear apart your soul, not to mention I held my powers in check to keep you from changing, I have an even greater need for the Ash. Get ready for a fate outside of what you’ve ever known.”

  Lord Babil screeches as he charges after the robed figure, who raises his scythe.

  * * * *

  The ambulances arrive with the police and the fire department moments after Ellisaüch called. Tom and Samaria didn’t respond to the EMTs treating them, and they have been loaded into the first ambulance to be sent to the hospital, the sirens screeching loud into the dead night. Richard and John, being the only ones lucid and awake, stayed to give their statements to the police.

  “You boys are very lucky,” the paramedic said after examining them, “Barbiturates is lethal in large doses that the perp was trying to dope you up with. The amount he was giving you should’ve comatosed you already.”

  “Can you give us a description of the one that attacked you,” a police officer asks, “He might still be around the area...”

  “...Yeah,” Richard replies, still feeling woozy from the barbiturates gas, “He’s a college medical resident visiting here. He’s tall, taller than... me. Curly brown hair... dressed in back... shit! Jenne!”

  “Jenne? Is that his-“

  “No! Jenne! She was chasing after the guy! He has a knife! You got to find her!”

  “We’re searching the entire suburb for them,” another police officer assures, “You’re speaking of Jenne Cordovo, right? She’s a familiar face with us. We’ll find her. Don’t worry.”

  “Let’s get you guys loaded up and get you to the hospital,” the paramedic said and leads them to the second ambulance.

  “I’ll go with them,” Ellisaüch offers, “I’m John’s emergency contact when Jenne’s not around, and I know his medical history.”

  “Right this way,” the paramedic straps John and Richard onto two gunneries and load them into the back of the ambulance, Ellisaüch taking a seat up front.

  “It’ll be okay,” John whispers so softly that Richard barely hears him, “Jenne will get him. She’s the best, after all...”

  * * * *

  The Murder stares at his burning victim, lava and fire spilling from the hole that was once his neck. All one could see of Jenne is a dark silhouette within the flames, pieces of burning cloth falling to the ground. Why isn’t she screaming in pain? Why isn’t she running or rolling on the ground in agony? Why isn’t she dead?

  “I’ve lost track of how many times your kind has set
me on fire,” Jenne said in an annoyed tone, “I am only thankful that my trench coat is fireproof, like the rest of me.”

  The lava and fire pouring out of the hole on the Murder makes a gurgling noise that sounds of ‘what’ as the flames around Jenne extinguish, revealing the private detective to be unharmed, but changed. And the changes make the Damned take a few steps back.

  The once short and neatly-trimmed brown hair has grown into a wild mane that falls close to her ankles, several locks sticking out. Her burnt clothes have been replaced with a black sleeveless top, matching pants, leather boots, and fingerless gloves that reach her elbows. Bands of silver adorn her forearms and thighs, but the main changes are the large leather wings slightly folded on her back and the long tail swishing being her a sharp blade at the end. If one looks hard enough, they can see a pair of horns behind each of her ears, her eyes a shiny molten gold. The Murder comes to a quick conclusion.

  Jenne Cordovo is not human.

  “I guess from your body language that you know what I am,” the private detective states as she sets out her hand, a ring of fire appearing on the ground, “Time to end this chase.”

  The Murder screeches and charges forward. Something shoots out of the ring of fire and Jenne catches it before she whirls out of the Damned’s way. The Murder stumbles onto all fours before twisting his body around and spraying more fire and lava out of the hole on his body. Jenne slices through the lava and fire with a large scythe that had a skull appearing to be holding the blade with its mouth, the long handle appearing to be made of a human spine. The Damned screeches and the street shakes a bit, golden circles appearing before the circles rise and take the form of flaming demon skulls.

  “Flying skulls,” Jenne smirks as she twirls her scythe that is taller than her with ease, “Just as easily weak as you are.”