The Fiercest Craving

by Max Jager

  Erand averted his gaze for a moment. "I see."

  "I am offering a reward of one million gold credits should this case be closed and the perpetrator brought to justice."

  Erand nodded. "Very well. For starters, we have Cerina's autopsy report in hand. It will likely help us profile our suspect and take us in the right direction for the case."

  "I could only hope so," Serann replied. "You're dismissed."

  2:23 p.m.

  Erand read through the autopsy report for the fifth time but still didn't know what to make of it. Her baby likely siphoned a lot of blood from her system during incubation. Does that make any sense? Why would the baby demand blood from its own host? Maybe Hathren will know.

  Erand reached for his cell phone and dialed Hathren's office number. Not surprisingly, he reached the voice mail.

  "Hey, Hathren," he began. "I'm starting a new case for Cerina's death, requested by Serann himself. I was wondering if you'd looked over the autopsy report. If you have, I could use an explanation. Give me a call when you can. Thanks. Bye."

  Erand pocketed his cell phone, erected himself, and walked over to his secretary's desk. "I need a taskforce meeting at around two tomorrow after the funeral services are finished."

  "Roger that," the brunette acknowledged, jotting down a note in her planner. "I'll inform everyone right away."

  "Thank you. I also need everything you can dig up on Princess Cerina. Medical records, news and press, and anything else you can find."

  "Will do, sir."

  Erand nodded and made his way back toward his office.

  11:30 a.m.

  "Today, we mourn the loss of a beautiful and gifted child, a delicate rose who has withered well before her time."

  Rose? Don't give me bullshit. She was born a whore, died a whore, and paid the consequences.

  "A young woman who has left behind a profound legacy, cut short by the tragedy of death due to illness."

  I guess Father is covering up the truth here. I'm probably better off as well with people not knowing what my sister really was. For fuck's sake, giving up her own life for a bastard child.

  "Now, let us all look into our hearts and minds and remember the joy and fulfillment that Lady Cerina Serann brought us."

  This is starting to get pathetic. She was cooped up in the hospital for the past eight months under the pretense of having an incurable stomach tumor. Of course, the truth is that she was really hiding her pregnancy. Fucking clever way to explain the growth of her stomach.

  Prince Arden and Emperor Serann flanked the pastor as he conducted the service for Cerina's funeral. Arden gazed down at the crowd: a sea of black robed people, many of whom were weeping and dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs.

  Fools. All of them. Weeping their sympathy under the pretense that she passed away from cancer. No-one knew her like Father and I did. Yet they're weeping as if they've known her from the moment she was born. Truly disgusting.

  As soon as the oration ended, Arden swiftly strode off the stage and up the isle down the center of the chamber. He ignored the looks of sorrow that turned in his direction, his attention affixed on the door in front of him.

  I swear that whoever robbed you of your virginity and subsequently your life will pay dearly for their crime, Cerina. This isn't on your behalf but rather for my own closure. Rest in peace, my sister. In hell.

  B3 Chapter 2

  II

  1:55 p.m.

  Erand took a seat in a leather office chair situated in a spacious conference room. Over the next few minutes, other members of his task force entered the room and took seats around the traditional rectangular table. Once everyone had showed up, Erand cleared his throat and began the meeting.

  "Before we begin, are there any comments or concerns that need to be addressed?"

  A blonde-haired man spoke up. "I read through the autopsy report and didn't seem to understand how the baby could siphon blood from the host."

  Erand nodded. "It is quite a bizarre phenomenon. I've asked Hathren to look into it when he has the time. Any other concerns?"

  A red-haired female raised her hand. "Lady Cerina's funeral reportedly trumpeted the cause of her death to be due to cancer. Was this simply to prevent a public uprising?"

  "I can only imagine so," Erand affirmed. "Not many people would appreciate the thought that she gave up her life for a bastard child."

  The blonde man raised his hand, and Erand allowed him to speak. "And we're of course certain that this is a rape incident, correct?"

  "I'm not ruling out the possibility of consensual intercourse on the part of Cerina, Kor. While very unlikely, it is still a possibility, in which case we have no right to prosecute anyone."

  Kor shook his head as if dismissing the notion as implausible but said no more.

  "Anything else?" Erand asked.

  No one uttered a sound.

  "Right then, now to explain the various tasks for the investigation and delegate manpower to each of them," Erand continued.

  The table suddenly turned into a large screen onto which loaded a slideshow. The current slide was headed "Tasks for delegation."

  One entry slid into view under the title from the left side of the screen facing Erand: "Interviewing friends, classmates and professors at Royale Academy."

  "This will likely require a lot of manpower and a lot of time to be done thoroughly," Erand started. "Her friends and classmates will have a lot of insight to offer on her social life. Understanding it will likely be important to the investigation. Professors at the academy may also have much to offer about her based on academic performance and other factors. Any questions so far?"

  The room remained silent and another entry in the slideshow appeared: "Investigation of the deceased's living quarters and her personal effects."

  "I will need a complete investigation of both Cerina's hospital room and her room at the Imperial Palace. It's likely that we can find a diary or something similar that can further shed light on the company she kept prior to her impregnation approximately eight months ago. Also, we will need to know if she carried things such as birth control pills, disposable pregnancy tests and other telltale items."

  The others nodded, listening intently, and the next item on the list appeared: "Testimony from immediate family members and doctors present during the victim's death."

  "I will need to hear first hand from the Emperor and his son, about their experiences of visiting Cerina in the hospital over the past eight months and any other impressions of her they might have acquired. This is mainly just for documentation purposes, as they will likely be testifying in court. The firsthand accounts of doctors on the scene will be very important, as they will be able to describe the condition of the victim in the best detail possible."

  Several heads bobbed up and down in agreement, signaling that he could move on to the fourth and final bullet point: "Complete DNA examination of the baby in question and procurement of all possible DNA sources from the hospital."

  "The need for the baby should be self-explanatory," Erand began. "By possible DNA sources, I mean bed sheets that were stained in amniotic fluid in the process of the birth, any pads or towels used to treat the victim's vaginal area at the time, and any blood or urinal samples she happened to submit to the hospital. In case testing the baby itself would prove inconclusive, these items might contain enough DNA of the perpetrator to allow for a successful identification."

  "But sir, we have a problem," a brown haired man to Erand's immediate left spoke up.

  "I assume you'd be referring to the absence of said infant, correct?" Erand perceived.

  "Uhh... yes sir."

  "Apparently Hathren has knowledge of its whereabouts and can allow for a private appointment for it to be tested," Erand reassured the man. "Any other objections? ...Good, we'll proceed to the next slide."

  The header of the slide on the table shifted to display: "Suggested Task Assignments." Four bullet points appeared under it in one in
stant. Some discussion and whispering immediately ensued in the room, cut off by the rapping of Erand's hand on the table.

  "Now," he continued. "For the task of interviewing at Royale Academy, I have assigned Stacy and Mark due to their excellent people skills and the strength they've displayed in previous such assignments. I'll entrust Lex and Kor with the investigation of the hospital room and the victim's living quarters. Adam and Karen, you'll interview the royal family and the doctors in charge of Cerina's delivery and emergency treatment. Finally, I'll attempt to procure any DNA related evidence myself and ensure it gets tested. Everyone clear on their tasks?"

  The task fOrce members replied in unison with a tepid "Yes, sir."

  "Very well, I'll expect reports on your progress submitted to my secretary by 5 p.m. on the nineteenth. You're all free to go."

  Once everyone had left the room, Erand rose from his own chair and left the investigation headquarters for the hospital.

  3:00 p.m.

  During the brief ride via underground transit, Erand's thoughts couldn't help but drift to his past.

  I've come a long way since then, he thought in solitude.

  Eleven years earlier...

  1:15 p.m.

  "Objection!" Erand squealed at the top of his lungs

  "Whatever for, Master Erand?" the butler replied in his customary impatient tone.

  "Not enough salt on the meatloaf," Erand said matter-of-factly.

  "I daresay there is a salt shaker sitting a mere three feet in front of you."

  "I know, Derrick, but how else am I to practice asserting myself as a lawyer?"

  "I wouldn't be so full of myself just for entering law school a few years early," Derrick retorted curtly.

  "That's six years early to you. I'll be starting at age fourteen. The cream of the crop are said to begin study around age twenty."

  The butler appeared to ignore Erand's last remark. "Ah yes, that reminds me. Today, you will finally move to the custody of an appointed legal guardian."

  Erand took a long gulp of water before answering. "Of course I know that. His name's Hathren Drel, correct? I take it he's a prodigy like myself, just in the field of medicine."

  "That would be correct, Master Erand."

  A four eighty-six out of five-hundred huh? Unfathomable how a thirteen year-old child could place tenth overall in the Federation-wide Law School Selection Exam. Naturally, he has chosen to attend Exelar to pursue his education. It seems their program barely surpassed Ventare's in this year's Census of Scholastic Prowess.

  Hathren's thoughts seemed to space out as he drove from the hospital to the Van Gerrard Institute for Gifted Young Minds. He spotted the quaint estate sitting serenely behind a wrought iron fence and a lawn garden about one-hundred yards in length. He parked the car on the curb and made his way through the front gate, not needing to present any sort of identification to the guard presently on duty. Slowly making his way up the rustic pathway to the manor, Hathren breathed in the fresh air as if absorbing the atmosphere.

  If only I could know the world outside the hospital a little better.

  Once Hathren had reached about thirty feet from the entrance, the double oak doors swung open, and an elderly gentleman clad in a black top hat and tailed suit greeted Hathren.

  "A pleasure, as always, Mr. Drel," he greeted, removing his hat.

  Hathren removed his own bowler hat and addressed the other man. "Always a pleasure to be here, Gerrard."

  Gerrard smiled. "I still remember the day the Feds handed you over to us. You had such a sparkle in your eyes."

  Hathren nodded appreciatively. "Now I believe the boy is ready for my custody? Belongings are packed and everything?"

  "He'll be yours as soon as you sign the custody papers," Gerrard said with another warm smile.

  Hathren hung his hat and coat on the nearby rack and proceeded to follow Gerrard into his office.

  "The law mandates I blabber all this legalese to you before you can sign the adoption form, so let's get this over with, shall we?"

  Hathren nodded.

  Gerrard cleared his throat, his tone of voice changing to something practiced and somewhat monotonous. "By Article Eighteen, Section Thirty-One of the Constitution of the Intergalactic Federal Government, the party responsible for the adoption of a special needs child or orphan acknowledges that they have no outstanding criminal record and are currently not a subject of interest in a current criminal investigation. He or she swears to provide for the safety, basic needs and mental nourishment of the child. Should the adopting party prove to be an incompetent guardian, the child will be seized by the government, and the adopting party may face criminal charges regarding child negligence. If the adopting party agrees to these conditions, he or she will sign the legally-binding contract at which point they will be given custody of the child."

  Hathren acknowledged the terms by placing his curly signature at the bottom of the contract.

  "Right then, one moment please," Gerrard entreated as he left the office. "Erand! Mr. Drel is here to take you into his custody!"

  "I'll be right down!" a young and somewhat high-pitched voice echoed from the stairs. After a several minute wait, Erand finally appeared at the top of the stairwell carrying a duffel bag on each shoulder and followed by a burly butler who held one large suitcase in each hand. Erand shot Hathren a smirk as he trudged his way down the two perpendicular flights of stairs that separated the bottom floor from the top. Hathren took one of the surprisingly heavy duffel bags as they departed the manor and were now making their way along the hewn stone lane to the parking circle. The butler showed no signs of flinching as he carried the large and bulky suitcases to Hathren's car and then loaded them into the trunk. Hathren placed the duffel bags in the back passengers' seats, and Erand sat down on the front left seat of the vehicle. Gerrard had come as well to see them off.

  "Do your old man Gerrard proud and ace law school, Erand miboy."

  Erand beamed. "Sure thing, sir, and don't worry, I'll try and visit as often as I can."

  "I will look forward to that," Gerrard said with a warm smile. "Now take care! And you too, Hathren!"

  "Likewise," Hathren replied, pushing a fingerprint-activated button to start the ignition. The car's engine began to hum, and Hathren continued through the roundabout onto Commercial Avenue.

  "So," Hathren began, "I've heard great things about you, Erand."

  "As I have of you, sir," Erand responded with the most gentlemanly airs he could muster.

  "You can call me Hathren, or even Dad, if the designation suits you. Speaking of which, what happened to your parents?"

  "Sad story really," Erand said unflinchingly despite the touchy subject. "Turns out my mother was only sixteen when she became pregnant with me; she and my other biological half apparently had unsafe intercourse. When she found out she was pregnant with me, she begged him to stay with her in order to raise me. He laughed, left her, and told her to get an abortion."

  "Why not just call him your-"

  "That shell of a man?" Erand spat. "I never want to be affiliated with such a loser. He, by the way, is a convicted serial rapist. My mother, on the other hand, spends her days in an insane asylum."

  "I... see," Hathren managed. "So how did you become interested in law, and how did you become so good at it?"

  At this query, Erand turned and looked Hathren dead in the eye. "Ask yourself how you became so good at medicine. I daresay our stories are virtually identical."

  Hathren suddenly realized how similar his situation as a child was to Erand's. Yes, he had parents, but as far as his ambitions and interests were concerned, they could care less. He had to grow up fostering his aptitude for learning himself. The books he read seemed to be his only solace, his only purpose for living. While finishing his studies at Royale, he too had resided at Gerrard's institute, a nourishing environment that had allowed him to take his passion to the next level. He nodded to Erand and remained silent for the rest of the ride.


  Five years later...

  9:43 a.m.

  Winston Serann gazed down at Erand through his half-moon spectacles and cleared his throat.

  "Now, Drel, let's review the case one more time. The victim was prominent venture capitalist Lance Eckram, aged thirty-five, found strangled to death in his own bed at approximately 10:45 a.m. on the fifteenth day of Winter. Our forensics team succeeded in creating cast moulds of footprints found in the snow outside Eckram's mansion that morning. We were also lucky to find hair and other fibers from the perp on his body as well. The hair led us to a tech startup owner by the name of William Wright. Our suspicions were confirmed when our cast mold perfectly matched Wright's shoes and other fibers found on Eckram's body matched various articles of clothing belonging to the accused. The only loose end we have is how the strangling was carried out, and it is likely something the defense will try to exploit over and over again when they, excusing puns, go on the defense. Clearly, we didn't find the fingerprints of the accused on the victim's neck nor did we find specific clothing fibers that could be traced to a glove worn