you’re needed there. I’ll explain when you’re here.”
“ Fine. See you soon.”
He closed the contact and leaned forward, letting dangle the small crystal obelisk tied to his neck. The gnome barely touched it with a wand of the same material, transferring the cost of the goods, bared a complimentary smile and handed him his bag. Sylke slipped outside before she could think about saying anything.
* * *
Once inside the precinct, Sylke nodded in response to the greeting of the agent at the reception counter, an ebony-skinned woman he had seen hundreds of times but whose name he didn’t know.
Seymourne intercepted him on the door of the Homicide Department, and motioned for him to follow to a room closed by a glass-panelled door, where the head of the department was waiting for him. A tall, slim man who must have had some kind of reptile among his ancestors.
«Captain,this is Sylke. Sylke, captain Throll, head of the Homicide Department» he introduced them to each other without emphasis.
The two simply nodded. They knew each other by sight and reputation, but they had never talked, and apparently weren’t going to start. None of them tried to shake the other’s hand.
Finally, Throll broke the silence. «Detective Seymourne describes you as trustworthy» he said in a brusque and less than condescending tone.
Sylke shrugged. «If he says so...»
«We are dealing with something that requires maximum secrecy» the captain went on. «Nothing you will say or hear must leak out of this building.»
«Even if I wanted to tell someone about my job, I wouldn’t know who to» he replied dryly, earning a sideway glare from the policeman.
Then Throll started walking, gesturing for the others to follow.
Soon it became clear that they were going towards the morgue, a place that was much more familiar to Sylke then the upper floors.
He almost always carried out his job on the crime scenes, both because time could be a crucial factor and because he wasn’t exactly appreciated at the precinct. At times, though, some overzealous cops had taken away the bodies before his arrival, forcing him to go to the morgue to carry out his duty.
He was led to the wide wall at the end of the room, where Throll himself pulled out one of the drawers used to store the victims, pointing at its guest.
«This is the first» was his only remark.
Sylke looked at the body. It was human, or at least it had been, and it must have suffered unspeakable torments, judging from the look of what was left. Eyelids were completely missing, the whole body showed signs of torture, and the lips where lined with little red dots. He put a finger next to them, careful not to touch them even though he still had gloves.
«His mouth... had been sewn?» he hazarded.
Throll nodded gloomily. Sylke sighed. It wasn’t really sure he wanted to know more than that about that story, but he didn’t have much choice. Sure, he could always deny the job and definitively compromise his relationship with the Homicide Department. He didn’t know which of the two possibilities was less alluring.
Most of all, there was a chance that too much time had passed after the death for him to be able to see something. Preservation spells prevented decay, but they didn’t affect in any way the effects of his power.
He slowly pulled off his right glove, and gently placed two fingers on the corpse forehead. He was immediately flung in another time and place, finding himself seeing, hearing, feeling all that the poor wretch had seen in the last moments of his life.
He was sitting on a cold, maybe metallic chair. He could feel ropes around his wrists, stuck behind his back, and from the pain he felt he understood that his eyelids had already been cut away, his lips already tortured with thread and needle. He wondered whether he had been awake meanwhile, but there was no way he could know. Memories, emotions, thoughts where precluded to him, he could only behold. And not even much,
“ Fine. See you soon.”
He closed the contact and leaned forward, letting dangle the small crystal obelisk tied to his neck. The gnome barely touched it with a wand of the same material, transferring the cost of the goods, bared a complimentary smile and handed him his bag. Sylke slipped outside before she could think about saying anything.
* * *
Once inside the precinct, Sylke nodded in response to the greeting of the agent at the reception counter, an ebony-skinned woman he had seen hundreds of times but whose name he didn’t know.
Seymourne intercepted him on the door of the Homicide Department, and motioned for him to follow to a room closed by a glass-panelled door, where the head of the department was waiting for him. A tall, slim man who must have had some kind of reptile among his ancestors.
«Captain,this is Sylke. Sylke, captain Throll, head of the Homicide Department» he introduced them to each other without emphasis.
The two simply nodded. They knew each other by sight and reputation, but they had never talked, and apparently weren’t going to start. None of them tried to shake the other’s hand.
Finally, Throll broke the silence. «Detective Seymourne describes you as trustworthy» he said in a brusque and less than condescending tone.
Sylke shrugged. «If he says so...»
«We are dealing with something that requires maximum secrecy» the captain went on. «Nothing you will say or hear must leak out of this building.»
«Even if I wanted to tell someone about my job, I wouldn’t know who to» he replied dryly, earning a sideway glare from the policeman.
Then Throll started walking, gesturing for the others to follow.
Soon it became clear that they were going towards the morgue, a place that was much more familiar to Sylke then the upper floors.
He almost always carried out his job on the crime scenes, both because time could be a crucial factor and because he wasn’t exactly appreciated at the precinct. At times, though, some overzealous cops had taken away the bodies before his arrival, forcing him to go to the morgue to carry out his duty.
He was led to the wide wall at the end of the room, where Throll himself pulled out one of the drawers used to store the victims, pointing at its guest.
«This is the first» was his only remark.
Sylke looked at the body. It was human, or at least it had been, and it must have suffered unspeakable torments, judging from the look of what was left. Eyelids were completely missing, the whole body showed signs of torture, and the lips where lined with little red dots. He put a finger next to them, careful not to touch them even though he still had gloves.
«His mouth... had been sewn?» he hazarded.
Throll nodded gloomily. Sylke sighed. It wasn’t really sure he wanted to know more than that about that story, but he didn’t have much choice. Sure, he could always deny the job and definitively compromise his relationship with the Homicide Department. He didn’t know which of the two possibilities was less alluring.
Most of all, there was a chance that too much time had passed after the death for him to be able to see something. Preservation spells prevented decay, but they didn’t affect in any way the effects of his power.
He slowly pulled off his right glove, and gently placed two fingers on the corpse forehead. He was immediately flung in another time and place, finding himself seeing, hearing, feeling all that the poor wretch had seen in the last moments of his life.
He was sitting on a cold, maybe metallic chair. He could feel ropes around his wrists, stuck behind his back, and from the pain he felt he understood that his eyelids had already been cut away, his lips already tortured with thread and needle. He wondered whether he had been awake meanwhile, but there was no way he could know. Memories, emotions, thoughts where precluded to him, he could only behold. And not even much,
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