The office was silent when Myra arrived. It was already noon and she carried a small paper bag full of medication that she pretended was just a bag of colourful candy. She threw it on her desk and straightened her back before sneezing like an elephant.
“A cold is just what I ordered,” she mumbled, hoping that no one noticed her late arrival. “Did you two find something yesterday?”
“You don’t know, do you?” Ronns returned rolling his chair closer to her.
“Why is everybody asking me that?” returned Myra. She could hear the captain’s voice from across the hall. He was talking to someone on the phone, and he was not happy about it.
“Of course, you didn’t,” Ronns lowered his chin and prepared to spill the beans.
“It happened again,” Koiller cut in, forcing Ronns to lose his momentum.
“What?” cried Myra. Her thoughts had no solid ground to land on, and at that moment anything was possible. Her ears still rang from the sound of the heart monitor she spent the whole night listening to. She was not yet ready for such surprises.
“Same spot, same body, same crime,” said Ori walking in. His face showed a curious disposition as if he was finally intrigued by the way the events were unfolding.
“How… why?” Myra raised her eyebrows as far as they would go and began tapping her foot on the floor. “Same place, you sure?”
“You were nowhere to be found Tamon,” yelled the captain as he squeezed into the office. “How do you suppose we solve this thing if you show up to work whenever you please? You are not in kindergarten people, and I’m not the ice cream man.”
“I can explain, captain, I did not mean to…” she began but the captain intruded.
“I’ve had it from you. The Bureau will take the lead on this from now on. That’s what he’s here for anyway.” The line that labelled the redness of his cheeks rose up to his ears like a glass being filled with wine. “Isn’t that right Mr. Avenonilanis? He added, now in a much calmer tone.
“Yes sir,” returned Ori, trying his best to look unbothered by Myra’s menacing eyes.
“The crime scene?” she said after a few moments had passed and the dust began to settle.
“The evidence has already been collected. Not much of a difference from last time. In fact, there’s even less of it now. But on the bright side, I believe we are due another visit to the morgue.” Ori said quietly.
Myra said nothing in return. His voice put her out of place, the sheer calmness of it, and the hints of satisfaction that came from knowing she no longer had a say in things. She walked passed him like a ghost and waited for the elevator as if she wanted it to lead her straight to the underworld.
“I did not have the intention to hijack your case,” Ori said once he caught up with her. “We both want this over so we can go about our own business.”
“Sure.”
***
“I don’t know what any of this means, but you were right,” said Avva as she met them at them at the morgue’s door.
All three of the tables now hosted a body. One was a mere skeleton arranged the way animals in natural history museums. The second was the first replica and on the last table laid the body collected that very morning. All of them had the uncanny look of some unholy experiment on human evolution or a set of hyper-realistic props for a movie.
“We are analyzing the original to see if we missed something the first time around. That will take some more time, but we can say with almost absolute certainty that these three are in fact the same person.“ The gleam in Avva’s eyes could reflect the entire ceiling. ”Remarkable isn’t it?”
Ori smirked as he observed the three instances of the same thing. “We’re getting somewhere, aren’t we?”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Avva took one of the shiny tools from the tray and approached the table in the middle. “You told me to re-examine the DNA once again. I did that this morning, and guess what?”
“It changed, or better yet it made no sense, like it was not DNA at all?” Ori proclaimed. The brightness of the room, the pale skin of the victims and all the lab coats made him look like a stray raven or a creature of darkness that wandered into another realm.
“Exactly. It looked like it was about to become something else. Like it wanted to revert to a simpler form, whatever that may be.”
“Again, I must inquire in the name of the simple-minded - how does that fit into all of this?” asked Myra as the circles under her eyes became darker than Ori’s whole demeanour.
“Patience,” he returned standing at the back of the second variant’s skull. It was still open and the brain was sitting on a platter beside it. “The magic used here is not trivial. You don’t just make an exact copy of something with a novice-level spell, and even less so make them think they were that other person. It’s bothersome really,” he added as he poked the brain with a metal pin. “And most importantly, such heavy magic has a pretty short expiration time.”
“So that’s why it’s deteriorating,” said Myra. “The spell is wearing down,” she whispered as if she was only talking to herself.
Avva walked in small circles with her fingers dancing in the air like she was about to play music. “That got me thinking,” she said and smiled after every word. “This deterioration must be the reason why there are small changes deep in the skin and the internal organs. It is still changing as a matter of fact, but not like a normal corpse would. There's no rot, just an alteration. So my question is, would the tissue change that way only now that they are dead, or while they were still alive as well considering the time?”
“You are wrecking my mind Doc,” Myra said, and checked her phone, realizing it was still full of water. A memory returned to her, of dark trees, winds, and voices without a body, intertwined around an unpleasant feeling. She could not help but wonder if she’d ever gotten closer to being the one lying on one of those tables.
“This is not a blood vessel,” said Ori, breaking Myra’s drifting thoughts and Avva speculations.
He lowered the large magnifying glass over the empty skull. There was something there, something no one would suspect even existed. He tried touching it with one of the tools, but the mark he saw was clear as day.
Myra moved closer, analyzing the undoubtedly obvious string of symbols, somewhat hoping that she was wrong.
“Those are letters, aren’t they?” she said.
“Furik A'Roshet,” said Ori hesitantly. He pulled the light away and went to the next table. “Can I see this one?”
Avva nodded and gently removed the brain from the skull.
They looked it over together, bit by bit until they discovered the same thing once again. Any possibility of a coincidence was instantly wiped away.
“Now this one.” Ori went over to the skeleton’s table, but bare bones could no longer carry blood. Instead, he hovered his hand above the bones until they responded by gently lifting themselves off the table and dancing in the air. They bounced off one another and produced morbidly pleasant sounds.
“Furik A'Roshet,” he said again as if he wasn’t the only one who could understand what that meant.
“What is going on?” Myra inquired, as the bones suddenly dropped down like they were meant to tell a fortune. One of them was singled out and remained floating just under his hand.
“He had a surgery, did he not?” Ori said, observing the long bone once belonging to an arm.
“Yes,” Avva said with a slight hint of confusion. “The records state he suffered a broken arm at a young age, and he underwent two surgeries for it.”
“It’s here,” he grasped the bone in his hand and placed it under the light. Using a scalpel he began to scrape at the bone’s surface like it was a carrot. Slowly, letters began to appear.
“I cannot believe we missed that,” Avva gasped and compared the writing to the one in the skull. They were identical.
“You wouldn’t have known about it anyway,” Ori remarked. “Do his records say who performed the surgery?”
“Let me see,” Avva took out her red pen and disappeared back to the lab clicking it as she went.
Myra remained with both her hands leaning on the cold metal, as her head slowly began to heat up, foreshadowing the oncoming fever.
“Those words, what do they mean?” she asked.
“It’s not a language you’ll hear today. Furik stands for skin or flesh. Roshet means to own. He who bears the mark will owe his skin to the one that branded him.”
“That’s -” Myra started but let Avva bring them the news instead.
“Sadly there is no information we can find on the who. It’s rather uncommon I admit. But the where is what I can help you with.” She handed them a freshly printed hospital note of admittance with the address circled at the very bottom. “It’s in Gallaven if you’re wondering.”
“Shit,” Myra sighed and grabbed it with a hint of disappointment.
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“I do have somewhere I need to stop first if you don’t mind,” added Ori as they headed for the exit.
“I am not your chauffeur, and can’t you people make you know -” she waved her hands in the air making a whooshing sound, but quickly saw it had no effect.
“Portals?”
“That?”
“Not everyone can. They are used only for emergencies.”
“Right. That's just an excuse because you can’t make one.”
“I don’t have to justify myself to you. I'll meet you when I'm ready.”
“Then you can walk to Gallaven as far as I'm concerned.”