The Darkest Shadows

Chapter 8

Detective Marcus Raymond pores over the pictures and sheets in front of him. He's been staring at them almost incessantly for the past two days. The clock behind him audibly ticks away the seconds left before Elethia Matiss is yet another mutilated corpse on the road. He gives a heavy sigh and rubs his eyes, exhaustion seeping into his bones. He needs to take a break, he knows it. But he can't afford to take one, he can't afford to fail again. To fail her like he failed the others. His sunken eyes turn to the picture board on the wall, the Scarlet Blade's victims taped up with their information—at least the information they know. Fourteen women between the ages of eighteen and thirty, of different races, body types, and lifestyles. And unless Marcus does something, Elethia will be vic #15 with her picture taped up on the timeline and her would-be fiancé crying at a funeral that shouldn't have happened. None of this should happen.

One of his sergeants, Kaylee Whitehorn, hesitantly knocks on Marcus's open door, effectively pulling him out of his brooding. He blinks his eyes quickly and rubs them, feeling the heavy bags that hang below them. She rushes to apologize but he interrupts her with a gruff response. "What is it?"

"Well sir, Mr. Clarkson is here again. He asked to see you. Privately." Kaylee gazes worriedly at Marcus, her own bruise-like bags prominent against her pale skin.

Finally he nods and she walks away, coming back quickly with the disheveled Pierce Clarkson in tow. Marcus notes that he looks like he's been getting just as little—if not less—sleep than himself. Kaylee leaves and quietly closes the door behind her. "Take a seat Mr. Clarkson," Marcus says with a motion of his hands. Pierce looks at the chair and starts to shake his head but decides against it, sitting down heavily in the chair. "What can I do for you Mr. Clarkson?"

The man glances around the office, his eyes hitting everywhere except Marcus and the poster board of death. His voice seems small and hollow inside the almost claustrophobic room. "I think it's more of what I can do for you." He finally looks at the detective with a deep breath. Marcus eyes his curiously  and waits for him to continue. "I think I know why Elethia was taken."

"Go on," Marcus prompts, though he doubts the accuracy of Pierce's claim. He's dealt with families and loved ones of the victims. They always try to find a reason, a clue, anything to explain why their loved one was killed or kidnapped or raped or robbed. Their grief is clouding. Not that Marcus can claim to have a clear head, but at least he's not grieving.

The disheveled man sitting before him takes a deep breath in as if about to speak, but then buries his head in his hands. Marcus is about to ask if Pierce needs anything when a muffled string of words interrupts him. "Come again?" Marcus asks, eyes pinched together.

"I said, promise me you won't arrest me when I tell you this." Nervously Pierce rubs his mouth. "What I tell you won't leave this room, this is for your ears only. I'm only saying this to save Elethia."

The detective is equal parts annoyed with what will probably be useless information and curious from the promise he has to make. In the end his curiosity wins out. "Alright, deal. Tell me what you know."

Another deep breath. "Elethia was taken by the Scarlet Blade to target me."

"Why would he target you? Elethia perfectly fits his type." Mentally Marcus adds on In that he has no type.

Pierce's fingers drum against his thigh at a high paced frenzy, almost distracting the detective what Pierce is saying. "Because I'm the vigilante Dawn."

~~~

The door to my cell opens noiselessly as always. I resist the urge to flinch away from the wavering candlelight from the hallway as a line of fur-covered women who file into my room. The beautiful woman who showed up when I woke up the first time strides in and stands in front of me; her striking face is still uncovered unlike the other three women with her. Once again she smiles at me, almost genuine if not for the dark edge in her eyes. My muscles tense up in anticipation of another round of horror.

"Hello Elethia darling. I must say, I apologize for what Blade did to you." Her nose crinkles in distaste, as if she really is sorry. I don't believe it for one second. "Those burns should not have happened to you. He got too manic it appears. Next time, he'll have a supervisor with him to prevent any unneeded suffering, I promise."

I let put a breath that sounds like a combination of a laugh and a cough; the flippancy of her voice throws me. It's like she's talking about bad weather or a minor hinderance instead of me being tortured. It's against my better judgement but I can't hold in my sarcasm when I say, "Oh yes, because a certain level suffering is needed." The tone would have hit home better had my voice not been scratching roughly against my throat.

She has another almost genuine smile that sends chills down my spine. "Why my dear, you're finally figuring it out! Suffering is needed for this little...event of ours." She snaps her fingers and two of the women from behind her walk forward in perfect unison. "Prepare my guest for the Ritual."

Panic starts to rise again but I shove it down quickly. I need to know. "What do you want with me?"

Something glints in her eyes when she answers me, like she's telling a joke that I'm the unknowing butt of. "I don't want you Elethia. Why else do you think you're here?"

As she walks away, I feel a little piece of hope break. The women who grab and unshackle me are as expressionless as ever. I wonder if they're fazed by anything, by my blood or my dried tears. I don't think I'm fazed anymore.

~~~~~
This ended differently than what I had planned but it'll work
~~~~~