Thick Blood

Chapter 6= Messed Up Family

A/N: There is a little Spanish in this chapter so it'll be roughly translated in this font next to it. By the way, I don't speak a lot of Spanish, so I'm mostly going off Google translate! I am also using a non-accent keyboard.

The news rang through the room, the reporter's voice burying itself into my subconscious. "Later reports show that our John Doe, who was found dead in an alleyway early this morning, has been identified as Mr Oliver Di'Ciablo, a local businessman with a wife and daughter. Mr Di'Ciablo is also the C. E. O of Carter Laboratories."

I wasn't surprised Di'Ciablo's name had popped up in the news, I was just praying that it looked like a murder, meaning Cameron had listened to me and hadn't messed around.

Drawling on, the news reporter shuffled a pile of papers around.  " After not returning home from his night out, Mr Di'Ciablo was discovered in an alleyway with a gun in his hand and a bullet in his chest. Police have ruled his death out as a suicide." Cursing silently, I paced up and down my box room.

"Examiners have found cuts on his hands that suggest self harm and, at the time of death, was heavily drunk. Last year, Di'Ciablo's son unexpectedly passed away and, along with the pressures of work, police believe these reasons stacked up on top of each other to lead to suicide. Di'Ciablo's funeral will take place this Tuesday, where his family will finally come to peace with the sad end of their beloved. "

I turned off the TV. At least they hadn't tapped into security feed, or examined his body for fingerprints. Even still, now, both me and Cameron were now at risk, and there would be no help from police to track down the real C. E. O.

Karla's voice still echoed miserably in my head. "She's a witch, and she's coming for you Agent Sharpe. You're her muse..." I had began to really despise her prickly, icy voice that dripped down my spine. Since then, Karla had refused to speak a word.

Ignoring her just made me focus even more on her words. The way they triggered something inside of me. Normally, I would never let an interrogation prisoner get to me. In fact, I acted like she hadn't. But somehow, Karla had scarred me, deep down. She knew something I didn't, and she was toying with the idea of mocking or telling me.

I still couldn't decide what she had meant by calling me Agent Sharpe. Karla had let slip she knew me back when my parents were alive. She saw me as the legacy to the Cayea tribe. Why call me an Agent? How did she even know I was an Agent?

And why describe her as a witch? Witches weren't real.

Something wasn't right...

Quickly, I finished changing into a forensic uniform that reminded me of the sort of thing CIA or NYPD wore off the TV. I didn't know how accurate it was. However, most people had never seen a real officer in uniform, they just presumed it was the same as the stuff on TV.

Interesting how the human mind works.

Attaching my fake ID badge to my belt, I prepared myself for my new cover. My hair had been dyed into dark strips before plaited backwards, out of the way. My hazel skin complimented the new shade. Again, it had been years since the world knew who I was, but there weren't many Latino blonds.

My uniform consisted of a long-sleeved navy polo shirt with the symbol of the local police printed on it, along with a pair of jeans and boots. Actually, it was all rather comfy. However, my wrist rubbed and ached from my latest mark. Since I had filled up one arm, I had decided to put a diagonal line through each one again to signify more deaths. The first one was due to Di'Ciablo, because I was the one who lured him out of the safety of the bar; I was the one who threatened his loved ones; I was the one who asked too many questions.