Murder On The Waterway: The Case Of The Kanaima Demon

Chapter Ten

The full moon's eerie reflections danced across the dark, rippling waters of the canal as I trod the path connecting the scenes of horrific crimes. The thought of sleep felt like a far-off luxury, the impending sense of another tragedy looming heavy on my mind. With Halloween and the blood moon on the horizon, it became clearer that the task was one only a few, like myself, could face.

My claws, ready for what was to come, tingled with a foreboding sense of the changes set for Halloween night, according to "Conrad." Despite these impending transformations, I immediately focused on a lurking presence nearby. The air carried an unfamiliar, haunting scent, emphasised by the crimson glow of the full moon. It felt like the world had fallen silent around me, and the certainty of not being alone rooted itself in my bones.

Instincts drove me to delve deeper. The scent, both familiar and elusive, led me to gather samples of the mysterious substance, stashing them in evidence bags for future analysis. The sensation of being watched refused to fade, dismissing any inkling of mere paranoia.

Moving cautiously along the canal, I detected an erratic beat, a heartbeat that easily disguised someone's proximity. Only my footfalls pierced the silence that enveloped the surroundings. I knew I was under surveillance, compelling me to seek answers.

The rustling of bushes and snapping twigs confirmed my belief—I wasn't alone. Reason urged me to keep walking, but an unyielding curiosity steered me towards the unknown. Mysterious footprints and marks on the ground raised more questions. I hesitated near a moored boat, contemplating the person living along the canal.

As I pondered my next move, the welcome presence of my partner, Michael, brought relief and a promise of unravelling the mysteries surrounding us. The night's darkness and the lingering uncanny aura left us with more riddles than solutions, heralding a Halloween night filled with further challenges and discoveries.

Michael's sudden voice jolted me from my deep thoughts. Startled, I turned to find him standing there, a cigarette smouldering between his fingers, casting a dim glow.

"What's going on, Georgie?" he asked.

"Michael? You couldn't resist either, I see," I replied, mirroring his restlessness. Our shared hunger for answers and the enigmatic nature of our investigation had deprived us both of sleep.

"Couldn't resist either, I see?" I echoed, recognising our mutual zeal to solve the mysteries surrounding us.

As we strolled by the canal, I couldn't help but share my musings on the case. The strange revelations and unanswered questions had captured my thoughts. "If the killer has a master, which one did I see last night?" I pondered aloud.

Michael contemplated the complexities we faced. "Beats me. I wanted a bit of inspiration. There's Mr Kumar, an archaeologist who discovered a relic from a Kanaima demon. He agreed to sell it but found the box empty."

My scepticism about Mr Kumar lingered. "That's just it, Michael; I'm not entirely convinced. Someone pays two million pounds upfront, and you make sure it doesn't go missing. Unless you have other plans for it?"

The case had grown more tangled, with many unknowns. Uncertainty clouded the path to answers, leaving the truth still veiled.

"Georgie, are you suggesting money is the root of all evil?" Michael teased, injecting a hint of silliness into our conversation.

"Not exactly," I clarified. "It's suspicious, though. He asked about the relic first and was told his wife was dead, and it barely fazed him. At the least, he's deceived some people."

Our talk naturally gravitated towards the mysterious substance we discovered near the crime scenes. I believed it was connected to someone observing the unfolding events—a belief that these minor details could unravel significant truths.

"Ah, yes, that's the one. Right, satisfied with your curiosity?" I asked Michael, acknowledging his appreciation for my relentless quest for answers.

"A bit," he admitted. "One more spot, then it's time to rest."

Despite the late hour and our fatigue, we couldn't resist exploring the last crime scene. Our determination to uncover the mysteries kept us going, regardless of their bizarre and perplexing nature.

Michael recognised my unyielding commitment to the investigation. "Hey, still not giving up?"

"Hey, I've held on for a week, haven't I?" I replied with a touch of humour. "If I'm willing to wander in the dark with you when I should be asleep, you can forgive my vices."

Our unceasing pursuit of justice had thrown us into the unknown, and the case grew more complex with each revelation. The chilling and captivating questions that awaited us fueled our determination to uncover the truth, wherever it might lead.

The sinister enigma of the crime scenes weighed heavily on my thoughts. The sight of the holes in the wall, each marked with dried blood, sent a shiver down my spine. Their resemblance to stigmata was chilling. The victims, rendered helpless in a state of paralysis, had suffered a prolonged, gruesome fate. A deep chill swept through me as I contemplated the horrifying ordeal they had endured.

My senses picked up on a presence, and I turned to find the ethereal figures of four souls—Tracey, Rachel, Annabelle, and Mr Bentley—trapped in the cruel grip of death. They silently pleaded for help, lingering in the liminal space between life and death, their need for closure palpable.

Their silent pleas resonated within me, evoking a profound sadness for these innocent souls who had met undeserved fates. Their cries for help weighed heavily on my conscience, emphasising the urgency of our investigation.

Michael, recognising the depth of my connection with these tortured spirits, offered a look of understanding. It was an ironic situation—I could see these spirits, yet I carried the weight of their pain.

"We still need to find out who did that and sent it to us," I told Michael, emphasising the urgency of the investigation.

In the darkness, I noticed an unexpected discovery—a concealed, grimy pathway leading up the slope beside the concrete bridge. It was a subtle change, easily missed, yet promised answers.

I pointed it out to Michael with a surge of excitement, knowing he trusted my instincts and my ability to gravitate towards the inexplicable in this case.

As we continued our exploration, my curiosity was piqued by peculiar substances similar to the ones found near the crime scenes. This substance seemed to have been left behind by someone observing the scenes, an eerie presence lurking in the shadows.

"We need to get this analysed, figure out what it is and where it came from," I insisted, driven to unearth the mysterious truth.

Michael, the pragmatic one, expressed reservations. "We can't rule out rubbish, mate. It's not on the periodic table like that paralysing stuff."

I corrected him with a smile, appreciating his willingness to entertain the supernatural elements of our investigation. "Periodic table."

"Ah, yeah, that's the one. Right, satisfied with your curiosity?"

With a sense of contentment from our significant progress, I conceded, "A little. One more stop, and then it's time to rest."

Michael nodded, acknowledging the importance of this discovery. The next destination was the warehouse, potentially the last piece to solve the puzzle in this confounding case. As we headed toward the warehouse, our anticipation and curiosity peaked, and the mysteries of this malevolent puzzle loomed large before us.