“I see,” Miseria said, glancing at Auroch. She made a snipping gesture with her fingers.
And Auroch went flying back. The knight lunged in to take her place, flying toward the witch. Attempting another of those absurdly powerful blows, he raised his greatsword high. The breeze from his lunge alone made the witch’s bangs dance.
But that was all that happened.
The knight was quivering bodily, as if enduring unimaginable pressure. He was stuck with his sword raised high, unable to move. Just like a moment before, Rogue knew the witch had done something, but he could not identify the specifics or the means. They’d each been close enough to reach out and touch her, and yet—she remained unharmed.
His jaw dropped, and he heard the witch’s voice.
“So? Now what?”
The witch turned her right palm upward, and Auroch’s severed hand landed on it. Had she controlled that trajectory, too?
“………Had enough yet?”
“Please. The outcome was a foregone conclusion. My, my, this was humiliating.”
Despite her words, there was a smile on Auroch’s lips. A beautiful one. One might even think she was laughing it up with a close friend.
A drop of sweat fell from her chin.
Waving the severed hand, the witch said, “The pain too much for you? Didn’t improve on that?”
“It tends to lead to poor judgment. A commander must always be in their right mind.”
No blood was dripping from Auroch’s elbow; clearly, she did have some Headtaker body modifications.
“A fine attitude. Whether you can achieve that goal is another matter.”
With that, the witch looked the arm over, then tossed it back to Auroch.
“Here, I’m sure it has sentimental value. Reattach it with a spell or take it to a doctor. I made sure the cut was ‘clean,’ but the longer you dally, the worse it’ll heal.”
“How thoughtful!”
Auroch caught the arm without batting an eye and stuck it right back on the stump.
Rogue gaped at her. Is that enough to reattach it?
Apparently so. Even as he watched, her fingers started twitching. The hand holding it there let go, and she moved it around a bit, checking the functionality. The whole process took ten seconds at most.
“Auroch, are you coming after her again?” he asked.
Auroch turned her eyes his way, letting out a hollow laugh.
“‘Naturally’—is what I’d like to say, but I’m afraid the matter was just settled. At this point, I’m merely waiting for my mission to end.”
“I’m up for a rematch any time!” the witch chimed in.
The armored knight was moving again. With an audible creak, the greatsword was slowly swinging down toward the witch.
“Astounding! He’s suspended on strings, but I see he’s one tough cookie.”
The witch sounded delighted. She raised a hand—
“Stop that. We’re leaving,” Auroch barked.
The knight did stop. Clearly, he obeyed Auroch’s every word to the letter. Still radiating hostility, he returned the blade to his back.
On the way back to the car, Rogue asked, “They’re on to you. You gonna be okay?”
“Completely fine,” the witch said airily. “She herself said they’ll wait till this case is solved.”
“Not my point. The Headtaker Corps is more than just the two of them. What if she alerts the rest?”
“That would be a pickle.”
“This concerns you!” he yelled.
“Practically speaking, they’ve got collars on. More than us witches. Bound by blood, by the law, and by their owners. They can’t just chase witches down willy-nilly.”
“They need permission to pursue a witch?”
“That they do, Rogue.” She nodded. “If this incident comes out, Auroch will be punished for it. It’s a violation of the contract between the Drakenias and the Ligtons. She is out on a limb.”
Rogue groaned. “She doesn’t seem the type to hesitate…”
“I doubt she will, no.”
“……You know her?”
“You learn a lot in a fight.”
“Bullshit.”
He could tell she was avoiding a real answer. He sighed; did she have a plan for when the worst happened?
They reached the car. He asked if she wanted a ride, but she shook her head. He left the park and headed back to the Sixth Precinct alone. That night, he slept like a baby—no dreams at all.
The message arrived the next morning.
“—I know!”
A voice bellowed from the security-camera footage they’d obtained, replaying for the umpteenth time. Everyone watching groaned.
There’d been a fourth explosion in an alley ten blocks from the Stolaleid Museum. The bomb was a fortysomething male named Jamie who’d lived in an apartment complex in the area. The blast had hit two further victims, both in critical condition.
“He’s all excited about whatever the hell he ‘knows,’” Humafu grumbled, chin on her hand.
“Does he mean this ‘key’?” Catherine asked. She was with Rogue at the whiteboard. Her brow furrowed with evident concern.
Pausing the playback, Rogue said, “If this connects to the previous messages, then probably. Perhaps it’s something critical to bringing back the age of witches?”
Given the repeated spell melds, that was a distinct possibility. But it didn’t sit right with him. This case was different from the others.
“……Why did Chronos change the tone of the message?”
“Good point,” Catherine said, tapping a finger to her chin. “‘Grant me the key to salvation!’ or ‘I am bound for the far side!’ were both far more theatrical than a simple ‘I know!’”
The prior messages had been flaunting his crimes—an exhibitionistic threat directed at them specifically, with no deeper meaning. But this message felt different. Like there was another layer to it.
If a message existed, it must mean something.
But what? Was this really about the key?
The door slammed open. He looked up and blinked.
There stood someone dressed in a white shirt and black pants, with a white jacket over them. Her long lilac hair was bound behind her. Her hunched back was even straight for once. It was the Professional, with a file in her hand. She even has her necktie done!
“Tee-hee, sorry for the late arrival.”
She’d warned she’d be late, but the transformation was so complete, she might as well be someone else entirely.
“……Uh, what’s with the new look?”
“Oh, tee-hee, I had to step outside. To the morgue,” Angene drawled, closing the door behind her.
Aha, that would explain the white coat. But he found it hard to picture a witch taking the subway or a taxi down the Third Ward, where the morgue was. How’d she get there?
Oblivious to his questions, Angene moved to the board and put up four new photos—the faces of the human bombs. Two were young men, two middle-aged.
“Any progress, Detective?” she asked.
“We know things are bad.”
“Tee-hee, then I bring new information.”
“You do?” Rogue prompted.
She didn’t beat around the bush. “Long story short—they didn’t exist.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tee-hee. Their licenses and IDs are all forged. The only real thing was their residence registration, and that, too, belonged to someone else. None of them left any evidence of their original identities. Tee-hee. Hee. The morgue gets bodies like that from time to time, but these four were particularly thorough.”
She was grinning the whole time.
“Ghosting, huh? That explains why none of them had families,” Rogue said.
“Ghosting?” Catherine asked, blinking.
He elaborated:
“You take over someone else’s identity, pretending to be them. The original person is likely missing or dead—hence the ‘ghost.’”
“Um, and those are our human bombs? They were all identity thieves?”
“Apparently. Maybe they killed the originals themselves. Ghosting often starts with that.”
“Oh dear,” Catherine said, looking sad.
“Anything on where they were turned into bombs?” Rogue said, glancing back at Angene.
She pulled a Bible out of her pocket and placed it before Humafu—who was nodding off.
“The fuck?” Humafu said, eyes opening. “You think I need God now?”
“Tee-hee-hee, not at all,” Angene said, giggling. “I got this from the police server. The last few years, someone’s been helping illegal immigrants get into Elayl. On quite a large scale. The police had been trying to pin them down, but the operation is conducted by a church-run college, which makes them nigh untouchable. Tee-hee. Any idea what college I mean, Detective?”
That phrase did ring a bell.
“The place where John Brown went?”
“Exactly.” Angene nodded. “The other three have links to it as well. Dicky was a graduate, while Willy Martinez and Jamie both volunteered at religious outreach programs that the church conducts at educational facilities. They’ve both visited the same college that John attended. Which leads us to the where Chronos contacted them.”
Angene put a hand to her hip and cocked her head.