Chief Inspector Collin McCready ran his hand over the thin sparsity of hair atop his head, his expression grim as he surveyed the carnage that surrounded him. Torn limbs and severed heads, bodies with their innards spilling out onto the dust-covered ground, and the blood, all the blood painting the walls of the catacombs, mingling with the bones of those long since laid to rest. He cursed softly and shook his head.
“No human could have done all this. At least, not alone,” he said finally. His eyes fell upon the corpse of a young woman slumped haphazardly against the wall, her body crushed by some immense force. She stared back with soulless blue eyes. “These people were killed by something large and powerful.”
“Maybe a balverine?” the officer suggested, his face covered with a handkerchief. He looked a tad green and a sheen of sweat dampened his brow.
“Have you ever seen a balverine attack?” Inspector Felix Darby piped up as he approached them. “There would be claw marks and signs that the bodies have been feasted upon. There is none of that here.”
The officer about wretched. McCready frowned. Perhaps this man wasn't cut out for police work after all. “Why don't you step out for some air, Peter? You look like you could use it.”
As the officer gratefully took his leave, Felix cleared his throat. “I did find something interesting, though.”
It was then that the chief inspector spied the heavy tome firmly grasped in the young man's gloved hands, and he perked up. “What have you got for me?”
“This book is one of seven,” the boy explained, hefting it up and open so that he could thumb through the pages. McCready drew closer. Colorful pictures and diagrams he hardly understood fluttered past, accompanied by strange symbols of an ancient language he had never seen. “It would seem that these people were a part of a cult—the Cult of Blades, specifically. It was open to this page.” The book fell open to a diagram of a human body upon a stone slab, strange runes painted upon the corpse with what the inspector guessed was blood. “They were trying to resurrect someone—or something—that has been dead for a long time.”
“You can read this?” McCready questioned, glancing up to Felix. The boy nodded. “Some of it. Enough to get a rough understanding of what is written here. It's ancient Alban, from before the Old Kingdom. It's a lost language that most scholars don't even know.”
“How do you know it?”
“When I studied at the Academy, I managed to get my hands on some old texts from the Reliquary. Taught myself from them.” He stuck his chest out proudly. “Got into some trouble with Miss Brighton for rooting around where I oughtn't, but--”
“Focus, Felix, Focus. What does this mean?”
“Well, sir, I think they were successful, the consequences being what you see here.”
“Any idea as to what they were trying to bring back to life?”
“I couldn't say for sure, but if it's the Cult of Blades, then it's nothing good.”
McCready considered that. He had heard of the Cult of Blades before, but they had never truly presented a problem prior to this event. The majority of them were nutters, prophesying the return of the Court and the end of days, and doing not much else. He'd never thought they had the power to do something like this.
Gently, he took the book from his assistant, turning it over to gaze at the blood-soaked cover. A symbol was etched there: a planet with four moons, he surmised. Interesting... Where had he seen that before?
“Where did you find this?”
“Over here, sir,” Mr. Darby directed, leading his superior to the spot while carefully stepping over and around corpses and pools of blood. The chamber they soon found themselves in was large and cavernous, a stone slab at its center, candles strewn about on the floor and on candelabras. This room, too, was bathed in blood and littered with gore, but not to the same extent of the outer chambers. The two men approached the slab, boots crunching on scattered bones. McCready knelt to study the fresher remains.
“This is all from just one body,” he said after a moment. “It looks like whoever this was... exploded...” A glinting in the light caught his eye, and his fingers found an amulet amid the flesh. It was gold and heavy, set with rubies to form the same symbol that was on the book's cover.
“That's the medallion of the cult leader,” Felix stated. “He would have been the one leading the ceremony. This book was here... with what's left of him.”
“Or her,” McCready reminded him gently. “I think this person died first.” He nodded to a spot on the floor near the entrance to the chamber, where the dust had been greatly disturbed. “The others ran, but they didn't get far.”
“Do you think anyone got out of this hell alive?”
“Unlikely. This thing was thorough. It didn't want anyone leaving this place.”
Felix shuddered. “I need a drink.”
“Do you know what significance this emblem bore to them?”
“No, sir, only that the Court reportedly wore it, too.”
Collin rolled his lips inward. So that was where he had seen it: depictions of the Jack of Blades and his gold and ruby brooch. He silently wondered what it could mean, which planet it was that was being depicted. It was none that he knew of.
“One has to wonder where this creature went. We need to find it before it does more damage.”
“Further into the crypt, maybe?” Felix suggested, sounding hopeful, though not convinced.
“Maybe.” But the chief inspector knew better to believe in such a scenario. They had to be prepared for the worst, and hope for the best. His job had taught him that much.
“You said that book was one of seven.”
“I did, yes.”
“Where are the other six?” His eyes flicked around in search of them. “They are not here.”
“No, no, the books are scattered about Albion. Most of them have been lost, while some of them, such as the Normanomicon, are kept locked away at the Academy. They are all considered dangerous, and full of powerful magic and rituals. This book deals with soul transference, as far as I can tell. I'll need to study it further before I can tell you more.”
“Is it possible the other books would be able to tell us anything useful?”
“Maybe? I could see about having a look at them at the Academy.”
“That would be a good idea, I think. And we should try to find out exactly how they came by such a tome, too. I don't think they've always had it, or else something like this would have happened sooner.” He didn't know much about the occult, but magic was always dangerous and unpredictable. Unless one was a Hero, one could not hope to control it. It was too bad these poor sods didn't get the memo.
Rising, he spent a little more time observing the room further before deciding there wasn't anything more he could learn. He headed back towards the entrance of the catacombs themselves, eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. Eventually, just short of the way out, he stopped.
“There are no foot prints leading out,” he mused before turning and heading back the way he came, stopping again just before leaving the bloodbath behind to descend further into the darkness. He knelt again, studying the floor. “And none leading further in, either...”
“Are you saying... it's still here?” Felix whispered, his face growing pale.
“That is a distinct possibility, but if so, what is keeping it from attacking? It clearly has the power to annihilate the lot of us in a matter of minutes, maybe even seconds.” He shook his head. “And unless it's hiding in a coffin, we'd have found it by now.”
“Well, what other explanation is there?”
McCready shrugged. “Maybe it flew.”
~<>~
A thorough search of the area and opening coffins proved fruitless. The men grew uneasy disturbing the dead, but no curse befell them, and the departed remained at rest, peacefully shut away again once it was discovered that they harbored no monstrosities. McCready was frustrated. Whatever had done this had left virtually no traces behind, not even a single footprint! How was he going to find something that was as invisible as the wind, and how was he going to catch it when it could rip him in two without so much as batting an eye?
Gone were the Heroes of old. There was no one powerful enough to take on this kind of monster save for the king, and he was busy enough as it was. The chief inspector would have to do this without the help of a Hero... somehow. He'd figure it out later. Right now, he needed to find out just what he was dealing with.
“Felix, how long do you think it will take for you to study that book of yours? I have a feeling that the answers we need are somewhere in there, or in one of its sisters.”
“A few days, a week at most. If I go to the Academy, though, it will take longer. Traveling, and all that.”
“See that it's done as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want to know what this thing is, where it is going, and how we can stop it.”
“I'll do my best, sir.”
McCready heaved a great sigh, looking at the devastation once more. Lords above, what a mess! The flash of the camera, and it was preserved forever. A nightmare that would never end.
As the photographer began to set up for the next picture, the inspector signaled to Felix to follow him outside. He needed some air and a good smoke. As soon as they were outside, a cigarette was betwixt his lips, a match in his hand.
“Well,” the younger of the two huffed, “this is officially the weirdest case I've ever seen.”
McCready grunted, taking the first drag of his cigarette. “I don't know what to make of it.”
“Do you think all the missing people are accounted for?”
“We'll see, won't we?” The bodies had yet to be identified, and many were not identifiable. But his gut told him that yes, everyone that had gone missing were here, slaughtered like pigs or worse. There had to have been at least twenty cadavers in there, maybe more.
“You alright?”
McCready looked up to find the boy studying him carefully. There were few things that could shake the chief inspector. He'd seen so many things between the wars and his job. He'd thought he'd seen everything under the sun, every cruelty man or beast had to offer. But today had proved otherwise. He finished his cigarette, stomped it out, and pulled out another.
“I'll live. You?” He was more worried about Felix than himself. The lad was only twenty-two. He hadn't the experience of his superior, had not been hardened to the world's horrors.
“I'll have nightmares, probably, but it's nothing I can't handle.” He might not have looked like much, skinny and gangling as he was, with soft, boyish features and hair hopelessly sticking up in all directions, but Felix was a brave soul. This wasn't the first dark corner he'd found himself in, and it would not be the last, and he bore it all with a shrug and a smile. McCready wondered if he had anyone to talk to about these things, or if he kept it all locked away in a metal chest at the back of his mind.
“Bring the carriage around,” said the older gentleman, smoke streaming from his nostrils like an angry dragon. “There's nothing more we can learn here.”
“Righto.” And the boy was off, leaving his boss alone with his thoughts.
