Case 0

by May Freighter

  Mavel let out of growl. When Annalise glanced over her shoulder, his body radiated pure hatred. His eyes—no longer hidden by the contacts—burned with fire she’d never seen. At the same time, his handsome face contorted with disgust.

  Growing nauseated, Annalise faced the screen again and balled her hands in her lap.

  “Please, let me go,” Leila pleaded. Her voice was hoarse and raw, possibly from long hours of screaming that no one could hear.

  Dawson hit her repeatedly until her screaming turned to whimpers, which was when he took off his shirt.

  Annalise paused the feed. Battery acid climbed her throat, but she did her best to think of boring chores to avoid ruining her carpet. After a minute, her stomach settled. She skipped thirty minutes ahead and pressed play.

  In the next scene, Leila faced the wall.

  How many days was she in there for?

  Dawson pulled up his trousers and proceeded to button up his shirt. Annalise heard her voice on the recording and the events played out in the same manner as the night she was shot.

  “I am going to kill that bastard,” Mavel said through gritted teeth.

  Annalise grasped him around the waist and held on for her dear life. “You can’t! We can show this to the Chief, and he will get us a warrant for Dawson’s arrest.”

  Mavel’s body tensed. He pulled her arms apart with little effort. “Purebloods will simply jail him for a year, maybe two, or he will do some community service if his lawyers are any good. How is that justice for his actions?”

  “Mavel, please…”

  He slammed his fist into her bedroom door. It flew off its hinges, crashing with a loud smack against the floorboards. “Don’t tell me you agree with this!”

  “I don’t, but the law states—”

  “The law made by purebloods! Laws we, the modded, are forced to obey even though they obviously do not protect us!”

  She had nothing to say to that. He was right. Their laws were designed to protect only the pureblooded. The modded were servants, workers, or simply dirt under their shoe in the eyes of many. They did not deserve to have rights according to those in the Golden or Silver Districts. It tore at her heart, but she could do nothing. Her hands were tied.

  Mavel turned on his heel and stomped out of her room.

  “Where do you think you are going?”

  “To kill that bastard!”

  Her heart turned to ice and stinging words left her mouth. “I order you to stop, Mavel!”

  14

  All Things Complicated

  They stared at one another in a silent battle of wills. If he walked away from her command, they both knew what it meant. Inside, she shook like a leaf and her palms dampened. He wouldn’t leave her now, would he?

  She finally said, “You can’t go. We must follow protocol.”

  He averted his gaze and stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him.

  Annalise tumbled where she stood as if her energy was sucked out of her body. Her chest hurt, but if she hadn’t pulled rank, he would have done something much more terrible than destroying her bedroom door. She stumbled into her room and collapsed on the bed.

  Annalise appeared in the Millennium Suite. Leila’s soft sobs came from her cuffed form by the wall, and Annalise ran to her on instinct. But, no matter how hard she tried to reach the bound woman, she never got closer to her destination. She was restricted by a pair of strong arms that wrapped around her, holding her in place. She craned her neck to see her captor and gasped. Dawson’s bodyguard had returned.

  A scream tore out of her mouth. As she struggled, his hold did not waver. He clamped his hand on top of her head and forced her to watch Leila.

  The beast’s body was painted in blues, purples, and greens—bruises inflicted on her in this room.

  “Leila,” Annalise cried out.

  Their gazes locked.

  A sorrowful smile spread across Leila’s lips. “Tell Robert I love him.” The light in her eyes faded. She sagged in her restraints, and Annalise knew she had passed away.

  Blood started trickling from the walls and ceiling and, soon after, it poured as if someone had left the taps open upstairs.

  When she glanced down, she was no longer restrained. The bodyguard vanished as fast as he appeared. She waded through the crimson river that brushed her knees, aiming for the sole door.

  The handle wouldn’t budge. She twisted and yanked at the smooth brass, each time with more strength.

  Nothing.

  Her heart was in her throat. Annalise scanned the room for a solid object to help her break it. The cool liquid brushed her thighs, and she balled her hands. There had to be something she could use to open this door.

  The furniture vanished with the levels of rising blood. Leila’s unbound corpse floated to the surface and drifted over. Two vacant eyes watched Annalise and a sob escaped her. “I’m so sorry…”

  She shot up, gasping for air and wrinkling the material of her sweaty dress with her fisted hand. It was still dark outside.

  She clapped her hands, activating the lights. The image of Robert’s beast, bloodied and lifeless, haunted her. She didn’t know what to do with these nightmares. A psych evaluation now could get her suspended from the case again. She couldn’t let that happen. Dawson had to be punished for what he had done, but Mavel’s words resurfaced. Being imprisoned for two years was not enough for a monster like him.

  What if he has abused more modded women while in power?

  Annalise climbed out of her bed and stripped out of her damp clothing. After a quick shower, she changed into a nightgown and headed for the kitchen. Her throat was dry. She massaged it as she entered the hallway. Her attention focused on Mavel’s room. Usually, he would burst in at the first signs of distress. Tonight, he left her alone.

  He must be still mad at me. Her heart squeezed as she poured a glass of water. Glancing at the time, she had three hours before work started. She flicked on the news.

  “…a pro-modded activist, Mr James Steinberg, was found dead at the City Hall. His body was discovered by the cleaning staff after the typically uneventful annual ball ended…” the male reporter said.

  Mavel was with Steinberg at the party. She saw them together. For much-needed support, she clutched the kitchen island as a sick sensation pooled in the pit of her stomach.

  No, this can’t be right. She shook her head. This isn’t possible.

  “Anna, why are you awake? Are you unwell?” Mavel said behind her.

  The glass in her hand slid out, smashing into pieces. The water splashed her bare legs and feet, making her jump back.

  Mavel pushed her further out of the way. “Be careful, you’ll cut yourself.”

  Annalise studied his every move as he piled the jagged pieces into his large palm and threw them into the sink. He tidied the mess in no time and stood in front of her.

  She pressed her back further against the kitchen counter.

  “Why are you acting like this?” he asked.

  “Steinberg’s dead.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and faced away, grabbing the kitchen island for support like she had done earlier.

  “Mavel?”

  His chest rose and fell with his heaving breaths and his fingers dug into the wood hard enough for his knuckles to go pale. “When did this happen?”

  She immediately dismissed him as a suspect. A killer would not behave as if they had lost a friend. They would shrug it off or display false concern. Was he close with Steinberg?

  “A couple of hours ago,” she said, pointing at the holo-screen.

  Mavel’s face grew expressionless as he read the news report.

  She didn’t know what to do, so she remained in place.

  When he finished, he closed the distance between them. “We must get this case, Anna. I need to find the one who did this.”

  “We can’t request a new case when we are still in the middle
of one.”

  “I think this case is related to ours.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Mavel took her hand and led her to the couch. He seated her next to him and looked at her full of determination. “When I talked to Steinberg at the party, he mentioned knowing Robert Fern, but didn’t say how.”

  “What dealings would Steinberg have with someone from Bronze?”

  “Could be anything. Maybe their kids went to the same academy in Silver or something else entirely.”

  “We need to find out how Steinberg died. If it’s the same way Robert did, we can ask Chief to hand it over to us.”

  Mavel stood. “Be ready to leave in ten.”

  She scrambled out of her seat and ran into her room. Soon after, she was changed into a shirt and a pair of black trousers. She even found a spare minute to brush her hair. A wide smile tugged at her lips. We can finally go back to normal.

  At her desk, her hand hesitated over the data chip Devlin had given her the previous night. Was giving the chip to their Chief the right thing to do?

  They arrived at the HPD. Rios and Jamen were both in the Chief’s office. Calla and Des stood outside the door, whispering. The women saw them approaching, and Des waved.

  Dark circles rimmed Calla’s red eyes as she shifted from side to side. “You couldn’t sleep either?”

  “We found out about Steinberg on the news. Why are Rios and Jamen in the office?” Annalise asked.

  Des pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “Rios had to drag his ass here from under some chick he scored because Sunderland called. I didn’t get to finish getting my tattoo either.” She lifted her grey tank top, revealing her flat stomach that had a large scorpion drawn on it. Only half of the scorpion’s tail seemed to be coloured in. The rest of it was like a cartoon outline.

  Annalise pushed past them. “I’m going in.” She opened the door and marched inside. Three pairs of eyes locked on her, bringing out her nervous smile. “I heard about Steinberg.”

  Chief Sunderland sighed and waved for her to join the others gathered around his desk.

  She found a space between Rios’ tall frame and James’ muscular one.

  “Judging by the photographs of the crime scene and the data provided to us,” Chief said, “it would appear he was torn in half by a beast.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “And?”

  “We’ve watched the security feed, Storm. You were at the party with Mavel,” Jamen added.

  Annalise crossed her arms. She needed to create some kind of barrier between her and these three. “What are you implying? That he got possessed, killed Steinberg, and then what? He drove me home like nothing happened? That’s not how possession works and you know it.”

  “From his physical records, he didn’t need to get a boost from being possessed to tear a man apart, but it’s a card we’re playing to keep the case in our department,” Chief explained.

  Her jaw dropped. “Are you seriously trying to pin this on Mavel?”

  The men stared at her as if it was the obvious solution.

  “Take his prints and DNA samples if you like. You won’t find him anywhere near Steinberg’s body!” she hissed.

  Chief shot Jamen a silent order, and the detective said, “I will get right on it.”

  Rios gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Chill. It has to be a misunderstanding.”

  “Or someone is trying to pin this on my partner,” she snapped and threw the data chip on the Chief’s desk. “This is the evidence to prove Dawson was in Macabre on the night I was shot. Before you go pointing your fingers at beasts, why don’t you have a look at the men you protect.” She spun on her heels and burst out of the room.

  Halfway across the office, she stopped. Mavel wasn’t following her. She scanned the room, but he wasn’t around the others.

  She rushed to Des who was trying to balance a stylus on her nose. “Where did Jamen take him?”

  Des shot her an apologetic look. “To a containment cell for the time being.”

  “There is nothing to prove his guilt!”

  Rios cleared his throat, and Annalise glowered at him.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m sure he didn’t do it. It’s only a precaution.”

  She stabbed her finger into his chest. “How many beasts over the years got out of those cells once they became a suspect in a case?”

  Rios looked away and blood drained from her face. This wasn’t good. If Mavel was a suspect, she couldn’t protect him.

  “Who is in charge of Steinberg’s case?” she asked.

  “Jamen and Calla. She will have to use her abilities on Mavel to make sure he is telling the truth during the interrogation.”

  “And Sunderland agreed to that?”

  Rios gave her a lopsided smile. “He ordered it. It’s that or Mavel doesn’t get out of containment. This way, we can be sure.”

  Her shoulders shook, and she buried her face in her hands, puffing out hot breaths in silent rage.

  “It will be alright,” Des whispered, hugging Annalise from behind.

  That was the first time Des had offered a kind word to her and it was also the first time Annalise prayed she was right.

  15

  Seven Days

  What would it be like to see someone she cared about from the other side of the one-way mirror? Her brain struggled with the idea. This had to be another nightmare. The Divinity PD had no right to blame her servant for any of this. He was her beast, and she was responsible for him and his actions.

  Chief stood next to her in the observation room. He didn’t want her anywhere near this interrogation. Because of that, she had to beg to be able to oversee the questioning. And since Mavel was technically her property, Chief complied somewhere between her crying her eyeballs out and shouting obscenities at him.

  The door opened, and Mavel walked into the grey room beyond the glass. Although his hands were bound with titanium cuffs, his head was held high. As if sensing her, his eyes sought her through the mirror. The second their gazes locked, her heart stilled for a beat. The moment didn’t last long. Mavel was forced into a seat by Jamen, breaking their eye contact.

  The last person to enter the interrogation room was Calla who closed the door behind her.

  Jamen settled into an available chair across the table from Mavel. “As you are well-educated in our protocol, I will get straight to business. You know your rights. Chief wants you to let Calla use her abilities to make sure you’re not lying to us.”

  “No.”

  Jamen’s brows raised a notch. “What?”

  “I don’t want a flare toying with my emotions. The answer is no.”

  “Didn’t you say he had nothing to hide?” Chief asked.

  Annalise bit the inside of her lip and watched her beast. It would be easier if he allowed Calla to do her job, so they could get out of here. Declining the procedure was putting more suspicion on him. Yet, after her run-in with a flare at the Macabre, she never wanted another one near her.

  Calla rested her back against the padded wall, her eyes burning red. “You’re not helping yourself here. Just let me in.”

  Mavel glared at her. “Touch me and I’ll rip your head off.”

  She giggled. “You could try.”

  Blood drained from Annalise’s face. What is happening? Why is Mavel acting this way?

  Jamen shifted forwards with his left hand resting firmly on his knee and the other on the table. His expression grew cold and unreadable. “I don’t appreciate you talking to her like that, beast.”

  Sitting back in his seat, Mavel said nothing. No shred of emotion marred his face. It was as if he’d become a blank sheet of paper—a stranger she had come to see more of during the past week.

  Jamen must have taken his silence as compliance. He activated his wrist comms and the table lit with a holo-projection of Steinberg’s crime scene.

  The 3D miniaturised replication mad
e Annalise’s stomach churn. Although she couldn’t smell it, her mind re-created the stench of rotting meat from Robert Fern’s front lawn. Steinberg wore the same clothes she recognised from the party. His tuxedo was torn in places as if a wild animal had attacked him. His body was split in the middle—exactly like Robert’s.

  Steinberg’s torso rested on an office chair. His intestines hung like vines, some of which fell onto the green carpet. Blood painted everything from the floor and the mahogany panelling. A long, drying, scarlet trail crossed the floor as if the victim had crawled to the seat before someone had helped him up. His legs lay discarded by the door where the trail began, about ten feet away from the desk.

  Annalise’s hand flew to her mouth. She stomped down the climbing bile by swallowing and focused on Mavel’s face. For a second, she saw sadness in his eyes before he concealed his emotions with a poker face.

  Jamen activated a pulse reader, scanning everyone present. “Did you know the victim?”

  Mavel didn’t add anything and just stared at the crime scene, searching for something.

  “I asked you a question!” Jamen snapped. “Answer or you will become a pile of ash by midnight.”

  A smirk spread across Mavel’s face. “Do you think I care about that? I’ve already accepted the fact you’ll pin this on me, no matter my response.”

  “Don’t make it sound like we’re not looking for the culprit,” Jamen said, deactivating the holo-projection. “If you answered the damn questions, we could stop wasting our time here.”

  Mavel sighed. “I met Steinberg for the first time at the party. I was invited by him. I did not kill him, but whoever did this is related to our case.”

  The pulse detector remained level, indicating he was saying the truth.

  Chief glanced at her with an unvoiced question.

  “He’s right,” she said. “Our first victim had been split down the middle in exactly the same way.”

  He scratched at his stubble, seemingly pondering her words.

  “Whoever the real culprit is, he obviously wants a beast to take the fall. You must know that Mavel didn’t do it!”