Shazi and the Demons of the First Order (Book 1)

Caira

The minute I got the photo of the body safe and secure on my phone in my pocket, I ran back to my car and sped off to the police station.

"There's no way, there's no way." I repeated the length of the drive.

When I pulled up at the station, I got out and slammed the door shut, then ran inside. At night, the station was more or less empty, except for Carol, who was the secretary, and a few other people who stayed up late if they wanted to finish something early. But never had they come in to start something like I was doing.

"Hey, Carol." I greeted, then sped off to the back of the station without bothering to hear if she even responded or not.

Once I was in my office, I slammed the door shut with my foot and took off my jacket, then put it over the back of my chair and sat down. I sighed heavily, ran a hand down my face, then opened up my computer. It was a good thing I have lived through the era of the invention of computers, otherwise, I would've totally not understood anything about databases and computer codes. 

When I was in my account, I opened up a file on the biggest cases the police force I was working with have dealt with over the years since eighteen-forty-four. 

There was a robbery of thirteen million dollars in nineteen-eighty-eight. 

A museum heist in nineteen-sixty-seven. 

Zoo chase of released animals in nineteen-twenty-three. 

The list went on and on, but no mention of vampires anywhere.

I moved the mouse to the lower part of the files, where there was a single file from eighteen-seventy-seven. I wonder what it could be about. Some random people stealing purses or something. I opened up the file, and what stood out to me was a black and white photo of the front of the police station. It was a group photo of the police officers who joined that year. 

Every few years or so, I join the police and then drop out a decade later, so as to not raise any kind of confusion or suspicion about my age, which didn't seem to be increasing in any such way. 

Ten years or so after I would rejoin, where most of the police officers I worked with moved onto a new job or retired and there were newbies who had no idea what I looked like until they met me. I leaned in closer to the computer, trying to see if I could find anything about the picture that looked unusual. 

But then, I didn't have to look very hard. It was right in front of my face. There I was, standing next to the chief, Nicholas Standson, and a huge red circle painted around my face. 

Did they already suspect me when I came back later? But that's impossible. 

I leaned away from the computer and switched to a different tab, one that included reports of every officer on their tasks. I scrolled and scrolled until I found one that was a photo of a note written in ink. Someone probably came across that report and took a picture of it and put it under the date that was probably inscribed on the paper. 

Leaning closer, I could barely make out most of what it said, but it seemed to come out as: I have finally been able to make this report after numerous attempts. The officer known as Caira is not who she says she is, and is definitely not what she seems. I suggest that we proceed with extreme caution. Who knows what monstrosity she could be hiding under all that ageless beauty of hers. 

This report was done by Giovanni Mendallo, sometime in eighteen-seventy-seven.

 That guy... I remember him now. Curly black hair, blue eyes. He was quite the gentleman, but yet a little prejudiced. He also seemed to have something on his mind. I guess I was his main attention.

Is that why he cursed me with his words when he was fired in eighteen-eighty-one? Did he blame me for his early retirement? Did he know what I was? 

He even wrote 'ageless beauty'. That just proves it. 

But then why would everyone ask nicely towards me and treat me like a normal human being if they knew the truth of what I was?

 Unless... they don't know and all of this has yet to be revealed to them. Who would plan such a thing, though? 

A knock at my door caused me to jump in my chair and nearly smash the mouse, but I fixed myself and everything I almost destroyed and sat upright in my chair.

"Come in." I said, and silently hoped it was Carol.

It wasn't. It was Officer Johnston. He came into the room with silent steps, a sheepish smile on his lips.

"Sorry for coming in like this, I just had something to ask you."

I returned his smile with one of mine and got up from my chair, gently grabbing the piece of paper he was currently holding.

"What is it, Joe? How's your daughter, by the way? Is she finally going to do her exam today?" I asked, and looked over the paper in my hands.

Joe Johnston rubbed the back of his neck as he laughed nervously. "Yeah, about that... I was about to ask you if you could kind of show my daughter the ropes a little bit. You know, just so she can get the idea of what it's like. You're a great female cop, and you know, she looks up to those kinds of role models."

I looked up from the paper and glanced at him, seeing that he wasn't even looking at me but at the floor. "I'm not the kind of role model your daughter would want to follow."

He looked surprised as he met my gaze, but seeing the seriousness of my expression, he kept his words of protest inside of him.

"I think she would really like it if you, you know, helped her out a little bit. I would like it if you did." he said, pleadingly.

My expression softened as I took in his stance. By the way his shoulders slouched and the creasing of his brows, he was definitely tired and looked to be needing all the help he could get.

I smiled and held out my hand. "Alright, Joe. You have a deal. But I want you to do something for me, if that's okay."

He seemed happy with that, his brown face lighting up at the idea of a favor. "Sure. What do you need?"

I set down the piece of paper on my desk, and pointed briefly at the files shown on the computer with the old photos. "Can you get me the classified photos of eighteen-seventy-seven? And if you can get the notes of Giovanni Mendallo, I'd really appreciate it."

He smiled and shook my hand in his. "Alright. You have a deal, Miss Caira."

I chuckled and pulled my hand away, using it to pick up the paper and giving it back to him. "You have a beautiful daughter, by the way. What's her name?"

He looked down briefly at the paper, which was really a printed out photo of a girl with curly black hair and caramel skin smiling at the camera.

"Jolenifer. But everyone calls her Jolene." he replied, then left my office, his eyes still glued to the picture of his daughter.