James slapped Jack, jolting him awake. Jane nudged him a bit more, and finally, he blinked, eyes darting left and right, taking in his surroundings. We were all crammed into the car—James and Jane in the backseat with Jack squeezed in between them. I sat in the driver's seat, casually smoking a cigarette while watching the police outside talking to the Moral-A asylum workers.
“Mr. Star,” James said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Welcome back to the land of the living. We missed you.”
Jack's head snapped toward him. “I swear, I didn’t—”
A quick slap from Jane silenced him. “You talk when you're told to,” she ordered.
“Oka—”
James cut him off with another slap. “Did we say you could talk?”
“No, but—”
Before he could finish, Jane's hand landed again. “Are you dense?”
James leaned in closer, his gaze cold and unyielding. “You were obsessed with Miranda,” he stated, watching Jack’s reaction carefully. “Did you kill her?”
“No!” Jack shouted, eyes wide with desperation. “I just found out she was dead from the news, at Lucky 88. I swear on my momma's grave.”
Jane narrowed her eyes. “We have your fingerprints all over the scene. Just admit it.”
Jack’s face twisted in frustration. “She loved me! We were seeing each other behind her husband’s back because he couldn’t satisfy her.”
“Bull-fucking-shit,” James growled, his patience thinning. “Tell us the truth!”
Jack's expression shifted, almost defiant. “We even took videos! Check my phone in my back pocket. The password’s 0808.”
Jane, who already had his phone on hand, unlocked it, and started scrolling through the gallery. I watched through the rearview mirror, holding a pack of ice to my swollen cheek.
She opened the first video, turning the volume up. Jack wasn’t lying. He and Miranda were indeed together, having sex, laughing and whispering to each other, talking about what would happen if anyone ever saw their secret video. The genuine smiles on their faces made it clear—this wasn't forced.
“We loved each other,” Jack said softly. “Her husband cheated on her and lost interest in his own wife. I came into her life and brought back what he couldn’t.”
Jane cut him off, shutting off the video. “Fine, who might’ve killed her then?”
Jack didn't miss a beat. “Alisha. Her friend.”
“Alisha’s dead,” James said bluntly. “And why would she want to kill Miranda?”
Jack shifted uncomfortably. “She caught us holding hands in Bark-Bark one night. She was a—well, she was a hooker there.”
Jane’s eyebrow arched in disbelief. “So, she saw you two? And?”
“She threatened to tell Miranda’s husband unless we paid her off. Said he’d divorce Miranda, and she’d lose her citizenship,” Jack explained.
I cut in, shaking my head. “Alisha's dead, Jack. She couldn’t have killed Miranda. There’s got to be more to this.”
Jack hesitated, licking his lips nervously. “Miranda said she’d talk to Alisha about the whole thing. She rented a hotel in Tidbit. And before you ask, yes, there’s a new hotel there. Opened a couple of months ago.”
“Go on,” Jane urged, her patience wearing thin.
“That’s all I know,” Jack admitted, looking genuinely lost. “I don’t know what happened after that.”
James crossed his arms. “Miranda mentioned taking red crystal before her memory blacked out during a party. Know anything about that?”
Jack looked genuinely confused. “I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a party. And red crystal? No, that can’t be right. Miranda never touched drugs. She couldn’t even handle alcohol.”
All three of us exchanged a concerned glance in the rearview mirror, the pieces of the puzzle not fitting together.
Jane leaned forward, eyes fixed on Jack. “Did Miranda talk to anyone suspicious recently? Anyone who might be a threat?”
Jack shook his head. “No, no one like that.”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
My phone buzzed, cutting the tension. Leo's name flashed on the screen. I cracked open the car door, stepping out into the light flurry of snow that dusted the quiet streets of West Antapolis. The rain was gone, replaced by a soft, lazy snowfall that seemed like it would drift off in a few hours.
“Hey, C,” Leo’s voice came through the line. “We unlocked Miranda’s phone. She was talking with a guy named Pablo three days before she died. That’s the only unknown contact.”
“Pablo?” I repeated, the name not ringing any bells. “Got a last name?”
“Kaliaver. Pablo Kaliaver.”
“Alright,” I said, my mind already calculating the next steps. “We’re headed to see this Pablo. Where are you?”
“I’m already on my way to his place. He’s in Kenli,” Leo replied.
“We’re in Morelda. Hold tight; we’ll be there soon,” I said, glancing back at the car. “Send the location to James.”
“Got it. See ya there, C,” Leo said before hanging up.
I took a deep breath, watching the puffs of air condense in the chilly weather. “Hmm,” I muttered, flicking the cigarette to the ground, grinding it under my heel. We were getting closer, I could feel it.
—
Kenli.
The neighborhood of Kenli, home to the Golden Cat, was a stretch of lush green land formed after an unusually rapid retreat of the waters. This extraordinary event occurred roughly twenty, twenty-five years ago, leaving hundreds of ships, mostly cargo vessels, stranded on dry land. The homeless of West Antapolis turned these once-seaworthy ships, now marooned on land, into their makeshift homes.
But soon enough, West Antapolis expanded its city limits to include Kenli as one of its districts. When that happened, the poor were forced back onto the streets as the ships were put up for sale. Nowadays, Kenli's residents are mostly citizens with below-average incomes, struggling to make ends meet.
“This place?” Jane asked, her gaze sweeping over the area.
“Yeah,” I replied with a nod.
Pablo’s home, an old cargo ship named Skadovsk, had split in two over time. The once-bright flags on the deck now hung askew, their colors faded, and the wooden planks had rotted away. Kenli's notorious weather hadn’t been kind to the weathered ship, which bore deep cracks across its hull. The ship’s deep navy colors had dulled with the years, losing its once-striking appearance. All that remained was the skeletal frame, with only the engine room surviving in relatively decent condition. I used to live here myself, so I knew all too well just how rough a place it was.
“Your old place,” Jane remarked, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “Feeling nostalgic yet, C?”
“Hmm,” I muttered, my expression flat. “Oh, so nostalgic.”
Leo knocked on the metal door, and it creaked open slightly. Realizing it was already unlocked, we immediately drew our service pistols and peered inside. The cramped, single-room interior was a chaotic mess. Rusted metal walls surrounded us, and the space was filled with mismatched furniture shoved against the hull. Dirty clothes and discarded beer cans were scattered on the floor, and a table in the corner was covered in half-burned candles, playing cards, and overflowing ashtrays. The air reeked of stale smoke, spilled alcohol, and the lingering scent of something burning, like a forgotten steak left too long on the stove.
“It’s empty,” James said, his voice low but certain as he swept the room with his gun.
I gave a quick nod. “Hmm. What do we do?”
“Leo, stay outside,” James instructed with a tilt of his head. “C, Jane, with me.”
We stepped inside cautiously, fingers tight on our triggers. Whoever had been here had clearly left in a hurry; the sizzle of burnt meat still echoed in the tiny kitchen area. We could smell the acrid mix of charred food, cigarettes, and cheap beer.
Seeing the coast was clear, we holstered our guns, and James signaled Leo to come in.
“Well,” Leo said as he shut the door behind him, his eyes scanning the room with a hint of curiosity. “Let’s see what we’ve got here, eh?”
“Alright,” Jane said, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll take the left side.”
“I’ll check the wardrobe,” I said, moving toward the corner, my eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Leo positioned himself by the window, only slightly parting the curtain. “I’ve got lookout duty. If anyone comes, I’ll give the word.”
As we began our search, the snow outside finally stopped. Morning light crept through the cracks in the curtains, casting long shadows across the cluttered floor, and the temperature started to rise, shifting the cold air into something warmer.
“Hey,” Jane called out, her voice a blend of surprise and concern. She held up a small object using a gloved hand—something she’d found tucked beneath a dirty table. It was a fake fang, designed to mimic a vampire’s tooth. But it wasn’t just any prop; the edges were disturbingly sharp, and the fangs were spaced far apart… like the bite marks on Alisha's neck—and my own.
“Damn,” James muttered, his brow furrowed. “Alisha wasn’t bitten by a wraith?”
Leo’s eyes flicked to the fang, then back to us. “So, the autopsy was right. She’d been dead for three days when we found her in front of that stadium? I thought the messed-up bite was what threw off the results.”
“Wait, wait,” Jane said, her eyes narrowing as the pieces started to come together. “If it wasn’t the Noble Americans who killed her?”
“Maybe it was all a distraction,” James suggested, leaning against the rusted wall. “They wanted to pin the blame on the Noble Americans to throw us off the trail.”
“The two guys that attacked us in Tidbit,” I added, recalling the ambush. “They weren’t from the Noble Americans, then.”
Just then, the door burst open, and in walked our guy—Pablo. He froze the instant he saw us, eyes widening in shock, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Recognition hit me like a slap; I remembered that pathetic excuse for a goatee on his chin. He was the one who’d bitten me.
“Shit,” he blurted out, taking a step back. “Who the hell are you?”
James’s lips curled into a smug smile as he tilted his head. “Us? Cops. Pigs. Cunts. Whatever you want to call us. People have gotten creative with names lately.”
We raised our guns, aiming directly at his chest. His hands shot up into the air, his expression shifting from defiance to pure fear.
Jane smirked, the corner of her lip curling. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Pablo. Care to share?”