Carmelo Massimo Tidona
HEARTBREAKER
Series “Nocturnal”
episode #2
Translation from Italian to English by
Carmelo Massimo Tidona
for Zed Lab
http://www.quellidized.it/zedlab
www.quellidized.it
www.0111edizioni.com
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HEARTBREAKER
Copyright © 2013 Zerounoundici Edizioni
Copyright © 2013 Carmelo Massimo Tidona
ISBN: 978-88-6578-226-2
Cover: image courtesy of Victor Habbick /FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Work autonomously proposed by the author, not submitted to selection from the publisher
CHAPTER 1
Jenna was dependent on her routine. She'd been repeating it for years, always the same gestures and actions, every morning, every day, relentless and tireless, as if even a slight change could affect her destiny. She always resisted steadily any and each external attempt to modify her plans.
Six o' clock: wake up.
Half past six: breakfast.
Seven o' clock: start of the morning jogging session.
Half past seven: arrival to the east bridge, greet and make a small gift to Rupert, the homeless men who slept there, turn around, back to home.
Eight o' clock: shower and out to work.
A thoroughly-paced sequence.
Going to fail.
When that morning Rupert didn't answer her greeting, Jenna still didn't imagine that her plan was going to undergo an unexpected change.
When the man didn't move, although she invited him to pass her his bracelet for a little exchange of money, she started thinking that something wasn't right.
When she bent to touch his shoulder, believing he was still sleeping, and he fell backward, lacking support as well as life, the only thing she was able to think was that, for the first time in her life, that day she wasn't going to meet her schedule.
CHAPTER 2
A gloved hand waved over a crystal sphere the size of an orange, mounted into a metal support, without even brushing it, and it glowed a light red glow.
«17th Trianar of the year 2009. This is doctor Michael Crew who is about to begin the postmortem examination of an unidentified subject, male, human, known as Rupert, apparently about seventy years old, with the help of my assistant, Thomas Gibsen.»
The voice of the coroner articulated each word clearly in an aseptic and professional tone so that the crystal could record it without distortion. The recording, which also included the visual representation of what was happening within six meters from the sphere, would be stored in the archives of the police precinct for the years to come, so to be available for consultation at any time.
Michael was one of the two coroners in force at the precinct, the only one who was an actual doctor, as the other, Seamus Owlfeather, was actually a shaman, specialized in postmortem examinations of deaths due to lethal spells. Between the two of them, Michael was the one with the most work to complete, a thing he never complained about anyway.
«The visual examination of the body shows no evident causes of death. There are some ecchymosis on the arms, unrelated to the decease, but no traumas of greater relevance.»
He sprawled his hands open and moved them down to the naked body, palm-down, careful not to touch it. He whispered a few arcane words and to his eyes the corpse started glowing lightly.
«The magical examinations shows the presence of a faint residual of magic on the body. Supposedly it is the trace of a non-lethal spell cast on it in the recent past, and will have to be subjected to further specific examinations. I will now open the chest.»
He took a scalpel from a tray nearby and performed the typical Y-shaped cut to allow access to the chest cavity and the internal organs. The blade cut through the flesh meeting no particular resistance. Then the doctor grasped the flaps of flesh and pulled them expertly, plying flesh and skin and exposing the bones laying below.
«Now my assistant will open the ribcage while...» he stopped, seeing the expression on Thomas' face as the man approached the table holding the tool he was supposed to use to cut the ribs. His features bore a mixture of disbelief and confusion. Not a normal reaction from someone who had attended autopsy after autopsy in the last few months.
«Is there anything wrong?» he asked, unsure whether to make it sound as a slightly worried question or a reproach for the lack of professional behavior.
«Doctor, I...» Thomas started to reply, then he swallowed noisily and approached further to better see whatever had drawn his attention in the first place «... I think you should reformulate that assertion... about the non-lethal spell.»
CHAPTER 3
Shim Stonehand arrived at his office in the early hours of the morning, as he was used to. He didn't do that just to be a good example for people who worked under him. Actually he loved that particular time of the day in which night-shift officers were about to go off duty and the daytime ones weren't still there – a kind of temporal limbo in which you might almost expect that the day would be quiet and no one would blow his cellar in an attempt to become a makeshift alchemist or try to destroy the city with a hurricane.
Rarely such an expectation wasn't disappointed. In spite of this, Shim loved his job and everything that it represented. Being the head of the Magic Control Department wasn't something that happened to anyone. To be clearer, right there and till then it had happened to him alone.
Slightly more than fifty years had passed since the adoption of the Magic Code, born from the new awareness that magic was now part of the everyday life even for those who couldn't use it on their own. Several more had passed from the day in which some magicians, realizing that – in a world in which dragons were no longer sitting on treasure mounds, but on the presidential chair of some import-export company – the secrecy and confidentiality aura surrounding their practices had completely lost sense, had started crafting small magic artifacts to be sold to the larger public to provide to some everyday need. In a short time, what till then had been an arcane art for a few selected people, had changed into a business which turnover had hugely increased over a relatively short period of time. New schools of magic had been established, where apprentices were trained to specific tasks, such as replicating artifacts to allow mass production. Magical research had taken paths as yet ignored, having always been deemed of scarce practical value, that in the light of the new opening to the outside world had suddenly earned a primary importance. That had been the so called Magic Revolution, which soon led everyone to possess at least one artifact making their life easier. Light-generating items, available in an almost endless range, replaced torches and lanterns, just like old fireplaces and heaters were replaced by new models which could create flames or even just heat with no need of anything to burn. In time, magic had extended to any and all part of everyday life – traveling, information, communications – allowing common people to do things that not so long before were unthinkable, or seen as incredible wonders. It had gradually become common and available to anyone. Basic courses of practical magic and other no-longer-mysterious arts had been added to the plans of the main schools, mainly to select more gifted people which would be able to start a career in that field.
The quality of life, and life in general, had greatly improved. The other side of this particular coin was extremely dark, however, because magic in the wrong hands could become a huge threat, and if anyone could obtain it, it was unavoidable for this to happen sooner or later.
For this reason, the main world governments had come to the decision of creating boundaries to what was happening, which led to the creation of the Magic Code, so far the only collection of laws
in force in all states and continents, with slight variations, if there were any at all, from place to place. The Code did not rule crimes performed with magic, which after all weren't that different from those in which it hadn't been used. It rather regulated magic itself, specifying which kinds and usages were allowed, and which weren’t. Among other things, it forbid summoning, large-scale weather alterations and almost all flavors of necromancy, only allowing its usage for a very limited number of scopes, and only provided the user had requested and obtained a specific license.
Almost a decade had to pass before the rulers of the time had started to understand that the Code alone was a very limited instrument while there was no one who had the precise task of enforcing it. Security forces were not up to the task, as they lacked the needed knowledge, and the situation had to be fixed by creating specialized squads, seamlessly integrated into normal forces but trained to face, understand and contrast arcane arts.
The Department Shim commanded had been one of the first experiments of this solution. Integral part of the police, made up by specifically chosen officers, heavily trained, which results had been approved and appreciated by the people in charge, today it was one of the landmarks of that field of expertise.
Although it was mainly a monitoring unit, it also had several more functions, including investigating on all events concerning the use of magic in violation of the law, and was invested with an autonomy and an access level to information far greater than those of the remaining departments. It would have been wrong to say it hadn't ever failed – there was still a certain share of unsolved crimes and more or less clamorous failures – but the scale leaned undoubtedly from the side of success, and more so than for any other similar corps. A large part of this remarkable curriculum had for sure been deserved thanks to the man – or rather the dwarf – sitting on the leader's armchair.
That must be a particularly unlucky day, because when Shim crossed the common room from which all offices could be reached, he almost immediately met someone that wasn't used to be there at such an early hour at all.
Celendlinis Delmenar, head of the first homicide squad, watched him going by as if he had left the comfort of his bed only for the purpose of seeing that show. It was almost impossible not to read in his eyes an underlying note of acrimony toward Shim, something that had nothing to do with the well-known difference of opinions of their respective races, and was instead deeply personal.
When the Magic Control Department was created, only two people were in the list of candidates to be appointed head of it, and the elf had already established that the place would be his. He wasn't even able to see a reason why it should be given to Shim, especially given that he had some natural affinity to magic, while the dwarf, like any other member of his race, had none at all. When the choice had been made, and not in his favor, he had accused Shim of any kind of subtlety and mischief, from corruption to kidnapping firstborns, being soon forced to stop in order not to change a missed appointment into an actual sacking. Still, he had never changed his mind, in spite of having to show otherwise, and kept dealing with his colleague with an arrogance far greater than that he used with anyone else, although it was quite hard to notice any difference.
On the other hand, Shim reserved to the elf an affected courtesy and an extremely polite attitude, treating him not with warmth but without any trace of despise or lack of respect. Partly he did that not to give him any kind of excuse to start quarrelling, but mostly he did because he knew how much that upset him.
«Good morning», he said even before his colleague could think about greeting him. «Early start today? I hope there is no emergency.»
The elf looked down at him, not a difficult thing to do as there was at least half a meter between their heights. Actually, Celen was very good in the not so easy task of looking down at anyone, even creatures he could have looked in the eyes only with the help of a ladder.
«I've been here since yesterday», he replied with an acrid tilt in his voice, that was to say in his normal tone. «I spent all night on a case and now I have been ordered», he made sure that that single word carried all of his scorn for the simple idea that someone could order him anything, «to give everything to you.»
Shim looked at him, unsure about what to think of that. It was fairly unusual for an homicide to be assigned to his department. Not that homicides by magic were rare in themselves, it was just unusual that investigating on them was up to him. If the case was assigned to him, it had to be more than someone who had simply been killed with a spell or an enchanted weapon, it had to be a more complicated matter.
«What's it about?» he asked, genuinely interested.
«I have been told to give you the file, not to report to you», the elf grunted in reply, handing him a folder. Shim opened it. He barely had the time to put the portrait of the victim into focus when Celen, in spite of what he had just said, started talking again.
«It seems that someone took fun in ripping out the heart of a man without even bothering to slice his chest open first. Very fancy, but I don't think it is something that should concern your department.» He pronounced the word your with an ironic tilt, as if to stress out how deeply unjust it was that such a definition could be used in that case.
If Shim noticed, he pretended not to, and just checked the papers in his hands, as if to look for a confirmation to what his colleague had said.
«Necromancy», was all he said after perusing the brief file. The folder included a complete transcription of the autopsy report, but for the moment he ignored it, he would watch the recording later.
«Whatever», replied the elf, making him scowl this time.
«If there is a necromancer working without a license in town, this is a concern of mine. And to be honest... I don't think anyone has issued a license to rip hearts out.»
Celen was about to say something, but he didn't gave him any more time. «Have the corpse sent to my department's morgue, I have to arrange a complete autopsy.»
«Crew already did that, if you had read...»
«Crew did his job, now I have to do mine. If the necromancer left a signature on the body, it is not Crew the one who can see it.» He didn't left the elf a chance to reply and quickly went to his office, where he wanted to check a list of known necromancers while waiting for his men to arrive. He could have stopped the night-shift officers, but since there was no real emergency yet, he preferred not to. A few minutes weren't going to make any difference, especially if he didn't spend them doing nothing.
The elf too got back to his office shortly after. He sat at his desk and put one hand on the communication crystal.
"Doctor Crew, this is detective Delmenar."
The voice of the doctor replied in his mind a second later, "Yes, tell me detective."
"I need deeper examinations to be performed on this morning victim, that Rupert. You have to do all possible tests on the magic used on him."
"I thought I had to send the body to Owlfeather", Crew remarked.
"No, not now. It's an homicide, so it belongs to the homicide squad. Sent me the report at the soonest."
"As you wish", the doctor replied, ending the conversation. He didn't think it was too logical to perform examinations that usually belonged to his colleague, regardless of the reason why they had to be performed and of whom had to investigate on the case, but he wasn't used to contest his orders, so he started working.
In his office, Celen took a relaxed posture, which in his case was all but indistinguishable from a tense one, and told himself that this time he would show without any doubt who was the one who had the more right to be head of the Magic Control Department.
CHAPTER 4
The entrance of Elmond Clinic was white and sterile as a place like that was expected to be. The reception counter looked like an island in the middle of the endless see of the anteroom, scattered of small couches so distant from one another as to convey the idea of being separate worlds, each enclosed in its own intimacy sp
here, allowing its inhabitants not to worry of the stares and questions of people outside it.
Strangely, there wasn't anyone waiting.
Shim walked at a fast pace towards the counter, followed by two officers in blue uniform. One was tall and blond, his features clearly human. The height of the other one seemed to be the mathematical average between that of the first and Shim's, and his constitution revealed that there was at least one dwarf between his ancestors. Both had on their uniform the police badge and the mark of the department.
Shim showed its own badge to the receptionist who was staring at him with a questioning look, leaning over the counter in order to see him and, at the same time, trying with poor results not to make obvious that he was doing just that.
«I need to speak with doctor Elmond», the dwarf said.
«If you are so kind as to wait, she will be able to see you in a few moments.»
«It's fine Greg, let the detective in», the voice of a tall and slim woman said. She was peeking out the door of a room from which a girl had just came out. The face of the latter bore a weird mixture of ear-to-ear grin and swelling, tear-filled eyes.
The woman gestured the trio to go in.
Grace Elmond, formerly Gretchen Ealdfeond – a change of name made in compliance to all laws and for reasons the detective didn't find too hard to understand – was one of the most affirmed surgeons in the area, maybe in the whole continent, as well as one of the most powerful necromancers Shim knew of. She had an incredibly high level of authorization to use that art, and all of the contacts needed to make good use of it.
Gaining power in necromancy was always based on sacrifice, a ritual that had to be performed constantly in order to keep one's power intact. The more the power was, the more the required victim of the sacrifice was likely to be something which killing was dangerously illegal. Or, better, it was likely to be someone. Even the few authorized necromancers were obviously not allowed to sacrifice anything more humanoid than a goat, unless they knew the right people. That being the case, there was the chance to be called to perform death sentences of criminals who were just too dangerous to be simply thrown into a cell which key could be lost forever. No one cared if, before the execution, someone consecrated the room to Death, or if some ritual word was spoken during the event itself. In the end for anyone, sentenced included, the result was the same. For anyone but the necromancer.
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