Sacrificial Prerogatives

Part 1

New York City - April 1886

The noonday sun shone through the windows of the apartment. The sun had drifted across the room towards his face, traveling relentlessly towards the sleeping man, almost as if it knew of the state of his health this day. When the sun's rays finally reached his face, the man, his head pounding, he rolled over onto his back out of the attacking rays. He still lay on the floor, having been unable to make it to the bed in the far corner of the small apartment the previous night and reluctantly opened his eyes. Immediately a sharp pain lanced through his brain, overpowering the pounding headache. His stomach churned violently and he swallowed back the bile that threatened to forcefully eject from his gut. Closing his eyes against the light, he clasped his head in both hands. "Oh, God. Just kill me now and get it over with."

A smooth voice that Silas recognized as belonging to his partner, William, came from across the room, driving into his brain like yet another nail. "Oh no Silas, God's not going to let you off that easy."

Silas groaned, swallowing hard. "God has better and more qualified spokesmen than you Bill."

William, twirled the end of his black handlebar mustache before pausing to brush lint from the shoulder of his crisply pressed suit. Satisfied, he offered his hand to Silas who studied it warily before taking it and letting William help him to his feet.

Silas glared at the other. "If I never do that again, it will be too soon."

William laughed. "My boy, you only make detective once. Besides, if you did this more and built yourself up even the tiniest bit of tolerance, you wouldn't be suffering so. Learn to enjoy yourself!"

Silas winced at the exclamation. "Be thankful that my head hurts too much to shoot you, Bill." The events of the last night were a blur, but the one thing he did remember clearly, was William cheerfully handing him drink after drink. He staggered over to the kitchen counter and began fumbling for coffee.

William was at his side. "Don't worry about that Silas, coffee is already made." He ushered Silas to the table and made him sit. Then, taking the pot off of the stove, he poured Silas a mug of the strong black liquid.

Silas took the mug from him and sipped at it. The hot liquid scalded his tongue, forcing him to drink it slowly. "My God, man! What did you do to me?"

"I told you to take it easy."

"Liar. You encouraged me."

"I was hoping you'd forgotten about that."

"Not likely."

William began rummaging through his icebox. After several minutes, he exclaimed and crossed back to the table. He held a container of leftover bacon, the fat cold, white and utterly disgusting.

Silas swallowed down the bile that threatened to erupt. "Not hungry."

William smiled as he picked up the greasiest slab and held it aloft. "Not to worry." Just as Silas was about to take another sip of his coffee, William dunked the cold, greasy meat into his mug, stirring it around until the grease melted and sloughed off into the liquid. He continued to stir until it had melted completed. He dropped the bacon back into the container and set it down.

"What?" Silas began.

"Drink."

Silas shook his head and wrinkled his nose as he looked at the coffee. He could see the rainbow swirls of melted grease on top of the black liquid. "Bacon grease and coffee?"

"Trust me. Your constitution will be right as rain after you drink it. Now bottoms up so we can get to work!"

Silas shook his head and took a sip. Disgusting. "No."

William grinned. "Back home we put that stuff on our grits. Of course, we use ham drippings instead, but bacon is a fair substitute. We call it Red-Eye Gravy."

"Yes, but you're a hillbilly." He frowned, put the mug to his lips and chugged the hot, greasy concoction. He shuddered as his stomach churned. And, he would never tell William this, but he did feel better. He put the mug down and closed his eyes, then opened them almost immediately.

"What do you mean get to work?"

"Newly minted Detective Walker, you and I have our first case."

Even with the hangover, Silas couldn't help but grin. "What is it?"

"Manhattan. Triple murder."

Silas took a deep breath to steady himself. He had joined the force for this exact reason, to become a homicide detective. Now was his chance to do some good in this world. He hurried to his bedroom and changed into a fresh suit, taking a moment to look at his new detective's badge. He ran his fingers over the raised letters, a thrill running up his spine as he realized it was truly his; Royal Police, New York City, Homicide.

His musings were interrupted by William, who now stood in the hallway outside the tiny apartment. "Come on Silas! Let's go!"

Silas put his badge in his coat pocket, closed his wardrobe and hurried out to join William. "Okay Bill, lead the way."