3. Burnt to Ashes
Flames.
Crackling. Dancing. Reflected in Quin’s eyes.
She stood before a burning house; the blazes casted shadows that erased her expressions. That which could be perceived from her face, for it was darker than the shadows, was her eyes: that of an endless pitch-black sky.
He’s dead now.
She tossed her remaining matches into the consuming fire. Then, she walked away, dragging her feet on the concrete ground.
He’s…
Bam! She slammed her palm on a nearby post box.
Dead…
***
‘… Quin, are you there?’
‘!’ Quin snapped back to reality. She found herself inside a market store, sitting behind a cashier’s counter. She regained herself by recollecting what had happened. After that I… agreed to a trial week… ‘Yes.’
5 days until the trial.
‘You were staring into nothing. Is everything alright?’ The Manager asked, concerned.
‘… Yes.’
‘… Good to hear.’ The Manager resumed sweeping the floor with a broom. ‘How’s the job so far?’
‘Tiring.’
‘How so?’
‘Reading is… tiring…’ For the past two days, whenever there was time, Eliza had been teaching her about words. Quin’s head was tired because memorizing the symbols—the alphabets—was difficult. I shouldn’t need to read or write, she thought. I shouldn’t…
‘I’m sure you’ll get a hang of it! What have Eliza taught you so far?’
‘She taught me… how to write my name…’
‘Oh? Can you show me? You can write on the receipt paper over there.’
‘…’ Quin, sluggishly, took a paper and pen. She opened the cap, revealing the nib, and held it with her right hand: three fingers clawing the… barrel. Keeping the pen stable and firm, she moved her arm, writing the letters as best as she could. Q, a deformed coin; U, a quick snatching motion; I, a straight alleyway; and N, a weaving escape path. QUIN. She showed the paper to the Manager.
‘Good, good.’ He nodded with a smile, impressed by her writing. ‘Keep it up. You’ll be able to read and write in no time!’
Despite the praise, Quin felt no sense of accomplishment in having successfully written her name. All she felt was—a sense of loss. Why did I… agree to this…?
***
Why did I agree to this? Eliza wondered.
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She stood before a building that had been burnt black: a warehouse that had been reduced to soot and ashes. On the ground surrounding was a stuffed toy of a bear, having lost half its body to the fire; and on a brick wall nearby was a painted graffiti of a burning skull with a written statement: “The World Shall BURN.”
Bother…
In truth, Eliza was completely aware about why she had agreed on taking this job to catch a serial arsonist: because she was forced to. Firstly, because she was bored. Secondly, because the constables weren’t doing their jobs properly. Thirdly, because—
‘Why would someone start a series of arson like this?’ Tavar asked, fist clenched beside.
Staring at the burnt building, Eliza could see the state when it was burning. ‘Inspired, I’m guessing.’
‘By what?’
She could hear them, see them. Crackling. Dancing. ‘Flames.’
***
For the whole day, Eliza and Tavar had wandered around the city to inspect the serial arsonist’s crime scenes. They went to many different places but ended up seeing similar sceneries: a burnt black building and a skull graffiti with the same statement. Thus far, finding no leads whatsoever.
‘Are you sure about spreading yourself thin like this?’ Tavar asked Eliza while they were descending a steep road. ‘You’re already on another case, even though mine is still unfinished. Isn’t that one too many?’
‘There’s nothing to do but wait anyway,’ Eliza answered. She understood that Tavar’s court trial was still in a while, and that he had tagged along with her today because he couldn’t handle being holed up inside the market store for too long. Or, in other words, because he was bored.
‘But what if our enemy choose to assault the market store in your absence?’
‘Not the first time for the Manager.’
‘Is he… good at fighting?’
Eliza held back a laugh. ‘No. He’s horrible at it.’
‘Shouldn’t we be worried then?!’
‘He’s good at running. Knows when to run and where to run. Nothing to worry about.’
‘… If you say so. What about the place though? What if it…’ Tavar trailed off. Considering what they had seen today, she knew what he meant.
‘If it burns, it burns. I’ll go to the bank, wave my specialist card, and claim insurance.’
‘That easy?’
‘That easy.’
Silence hung as they continued their descend. The wind blew, passing horseless carriages rattled, and construction work afar clanged. Finally, he asked, ‘What exactly is a specialist?’
‘Anima-user.’
‘What’s anima?’
‘Anima is…’ Eliza trailed off.
Down there where the road was flat, she spotted a familiar figure. He was a constable who wore his black uniform in an improper manner: his topmost button was opened, his cap was nowhere to be seen, and his dishevelled hair was in full view. To make his appearance worse, he was yawning without covering his mouth.
When he spotted her in the corner of his eyes, he waved his arms.
‘Any progress on the arsonist?’ he asked. Hoyd (36)—evident from the emblem equipped on his shoulder—was the head of the constables. A man who didn’t look the part.
Eliza shrugged. ‘None at all.’
‘Pity. Well, I’m sure I can leave it to you like always.’ He scratched his hair. ‘Anyway, I got update on your case. Something I know you’ll want to hear.’
‘?’ While she was working on his arsonist case, he was working on her corrupt mayor case. They had—unofficially—swapped cases, for the sake of conveniences. Him to pass off a case; her to pass off boring processes.
‘You might face a formidable enemy. He’s—’
***
Rigor, the bald man, was seated at a rectangular table inside a square room. On one side of the wall was a metallic door, on another side was a one-way glass.
‘You can ask me your damned questions all day long, but I can’t tell you what I don’t know,’ he said. He would raise his hands to exaggerate the statement with his gesture, but his wrists were shackled with iron. ‘My employer had hired me in a secretive sort of method. I had my advanced payments and was promised more after the job, so I agreed. As simple as that. I didn’t give a damn who I’m working for, it’s what I’m working for: the money.
‘What? I’m lying, you say? Take it as you see it. Truth or lies doesn’t matter here. Anyway, I’ve given you my damned answer and I’ll repeat it again if that wasn’t clear for you.’
The interrogator sighed. He stacked the notes gained from this interrogation, carried it in his arms, and turned away to leave.
‘Wait,’ Rigor stopped him. Although he was reluctant to, he felt it right to share. ‘Consider this my thanks, not to you, but to Eliza the Still, because she could have ended my life if she wanted to.
‘You better tell this to her.
‘I know a guy. He’s in the same line of job as I am. And I am certain, now that I’ve failed, my employer’s hiring him. He’s someone who could pique her interest. His name is Bach, and he’s…’
***
‘—a specialist,’ Hoyd said. ‘Just like you.’
‘…’ Eliza smiled.