“And that’s all she wrote. Well, our time together was brief, but this is good-bye. Should you run into that witch, tell her I said hi.”
With that, Auroch bowed like a clown. The knight merely loomed. And the Headtakers got back in their car.
Later that same day, Rogue was informed of the specifics of his suspension.
He’d never imagined he’d take it so hard.
“……Goddamn it.”
For the umpteenth time that day, his hands clenched the sheets.
That last exchange with the witch ran through his head.
Do I resent her for lying to me? No, that isn’t it. I wanted her to tell me the truth. Even if the truth wasn’t what I wanted to hear, I wanted her to confide in me.
And it hurt that she hadn’t deemed him worthy.
He knew that.
She was a witch, and he was a human, and that divide could never be overcome. But Rogue still wanted…
He grabbed the envelope from his bedside table, reading the contents again. No matter how many times he read it, it still said “three months suspension.” Did Velladonna help me get off light, or was it the other way around? It doesn’t matter to me either way. Not now. The suspension is my problem, and mine alone. A lot of issues would sort themselves out in three months without him ever knowing.
That’s when the doorbell rang. He ignored it the first time. But it kept ringing. His body felt like lead, but he pried himself up, moving to the door and opening it.
A nun stood there.
“……What?” Rogue growled.
The nun took one look at him, and her eyes went wide, but she soon hid her shock.
“Detective, may I come in?”
“……Sure.”
He let in the nun, and they moved to the coffee table. He waved her to the couch.
“You know about the suspension, right? What brings you here?”
“I was just worried about you.”
That took his breath away.
“……It’s only three months. No time at all. No big deal.”
“It sure doesn’t look like it.”
“……”
That silenced him.
“Detective,” she added, “will you tell me the whole story? I might be able to help.”
_____Why?
He felt pain in his heart.
Witches were evil. He knew that for a fact. The girl before him had already betrayed him once. And yet why do they all look out for me? Why can’t witches act the part and treat people like yesterday’s trash?
Before transferring to the Sixth Precinct, things had been simple. Witches were symbols of fear. It was easy to resent them, despise them.
Why can’t things just be easy?
The more he thought, the less he understood them.
Hanging his head, he croaked, “Just leave me alone. I can’t—”
“Detective, look at this.”
“This?”
That got his head up. The girl in the nun’s habit was pointing at her throat.
At the collar.
“I am still here because you saved me. Have you already forgotten that?”
This caught him off guard. He hadn’t expected her to bring that up.
The girl’s brows seemed slightly higher than usual.
“I remember them. As clear as day. ‘You’re gonna live and repent.’ ‘Don’t think you’re getting off the hook that easy.’ Your words.”
“Oh, I was just—”
“Where’d that man go?” the nun asked, leaning across the table. “You aren’t acting like yourself at all.”
A silence settled over the room.
At long last, Rogue whispered, “What would you do?”
“If?”
“……If you had a problem you couldn’t do a thing about?”
His gaze was on the table. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the girl’s face.
He heard clothing rustling.
“Let someone else take care of it,” she said.
“……You’re not mincing words.”
“Well, you can’t do it yourself. That means roping in someone else is your only choice. That’s what I always do.”
When he looked up, he found her smiling.
“You have the Saint before you. Allow me to help you.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or tremble.
But what she said was all true. The Saint did want to help people. Even if a far more twisted compulsion lay rooted behind that.
And that loosened his lips.
“……Mind if we take a trip down memory lane?”
“By all means.”
She put her palms together gracefully.
“When I was a kid, I wanted to be a sheriff,” Rogue said. “My dad was one, and I looked up to him. It was a small town, nothing but prairie and horses, but the times being what they were, no shortage of problems cropped up. Not just magic—regular fights, too. No matter how big the mess, my dad stepped in and fixed it. The man could talk the ear off a donkey. And punch his way out of most problems on top of that. There was no one I respected more. And then the witch came. She looked like anyone else. Like a human being.”
Even now, he felt that shiver run down his spine.
“She asked for someone to show her around. I said I’d do it. Took my time. Right up until she started attacking, I thought I’d done a good thing. I was a damn fool. But my dad—even then, he protected me. His limbs went flying, but he still went after her. Said it was a sheriff’s job to protect and serve. Didn’t say a word against me.”
The nun was just listening in silence.
“The next thing I knew, there was no one left. Not my mom or dad, nor anyone else. They were no longer human. Turned into something else. What had they done to deserve this? Why was this happening? I just wanted to know why she’d come after them.”
His hands were clenched tight.
“That’s why I became a detective.”
“So you can’t get stuck here,” the girl—Catherine—said.
“……Sorry I made you come all this way.”
He meant that.
Catherine’s smile softened.
“Don’t worry about it. I mean, I’m your partner.”
✦ ✦ ✦
“……I am sorry.”
“S-stop apologizing!”
Catherine was waving her hands around.
Yeah—his partner.
They worked together, watched each other’s backs. Even if she was a witch, Rogue should trust his partner.
“I swear to commit no sins…”
“Catherine, lend me a hand,” Rogue said. “We’re reopening the case.”
They drove through the luxury homes to the run-down church.
He parked; he and Catherine passed the identity check and took the elevator down to the Sixth Precinct. The drop always turned his stomach upside down. It had only been three days since his last visit, but it felt like his first.
Outside the elevator doors was a bespectacled maid.
“Welcome back, Detective Rogue.”
There was no expression on her face, no emotion in her voice, no indication she gave a damn that Rogue was suspended. She didn’t even mention it.
“I’m back, Rico.”
If she was one to sweat the fine print, she probably wouldn’t have lasted long here.
“Humafu’s waiting in the conference room,” Rico said.
“I know. Thanks.”
“Also, the curator from the Stolaleid Museum called.”
“He did?”
“He has something to share with you.”
With that, Rico bowed and left.
Time to turn this thing around.
They boarded the interior elevator to the meeting floor.
“Why’s Humafu helping?” Rogue wondered. “The case is closed; this ain’t her problem.”
“Um, well…” Before Catherine managed an answer, the doors opened.
Rogue stepped into the room and found a petite girl leaning way back in a chair.
The crease in her brow was extra deep. Her nails scratched the armrest. She was baring her teeth, growling at anyone and everyone.
She was clearly furious.
Before Rogue even sat down, she was talking.
“Detective! You know what’s really got me pissed?”
“……Nope.”
His answer proved irrelevant.
“You don’t fuck with me. I’m a generous gal. I forgive a lot of shit. But you play stupid games, you’ll win stupid prizes. I’ll make that shit hurt. You can’t run! I’ll follow your ass to the bottom of the sea!”
She uncrossed her legs and put her elbows on her knees, glaring up at him.
“So this true killer’s dead as a doornail. Guaranteed.”
“……I don’t think they’re fucking with you specifically.”
“They fucking are, though,” Humafu growled.
“Suspending the chief of the Sixth Precinct? That shit’s personal.”
It was the last thing he’d expected, and it hit him like a punch to the gut.
Getting called chief at all was a shock, as was her attachment to the precinct. He hadn’t imagined Humafu would give a shit about either. He knew she drew clear lines between humans and witches. And yet—
“Jackasses out here starting shit.”
Humafu was livid.
“……”
“Huh? What?”
“……Glad to hear it. We need every hand we can get.”
Perhaps he was just another human in her mind. A handy tool that would soon die. But for now, he was grateful for it.
Humafu snorted.
“I’m in this shit for real, so don’t you go coming back with ‘Sorry, they got away.’”
A knife flew past his head, then spun in the air.
“Got it.” Rogue nodded.
“As long as they don’t die instantly, most things work out. Tee-hee,” said a tall witch in the corner—Angene, the Professional.
“Don’t work shit out—just let ’em croak.”
“Tee-hee.”
“Don’t giggle at me!”
“I’m just glad to see you in such fine form.”
“I ain’t doing this for your amusement.”
With that, Rogue moved to the whiteboard. The witches’ eyes gathered on him, and they fell quiet. The collared ones were lending him their ears.
“Sorry I’m late. Let’s get this briefing underway.”