Willow Starlight, the strange woman we encountered in the square, was a member of the Neo-Luminaries. It was something she shared in common with our victim, Nathan Ming. Both of them sported matching shiny arms, or, more accurately, they used to, considering the way we had found his limbs arranged around him.

What she said about them was sparse, but it was more than enough for us to run with. This was another thread for us to follow. Red threads of fate were stretching out in front of us, and it was up to us to figure out what they could tell us.

Ethan was working as hard as ever; his programs were scraping the server and running them through detailed algorithms around the clock. Unlike humans, machines didn’t have to sleep. It was only a matter of time before he had something conclusive to show us. It wasn’t like us to sit around twiddling our thumbs. While we were waiting on the analysis, we were going to go about this the old-fashioned way, by showing up in the flesh.

The Neo-Luminaries were looking for new members; college was out, and there was plenty of fresh meat with more time than money looking for somewhere to belong. Basically, it was hunting season for them, and it was an in for us.

There was an announcement on their server inviting curious minds to attend with them. They were going to hold an open house every Friday night for the foreseeable future, and this one was the third. The first was just three weeks prior, only a week after Nathan stopped attending. He must have left behind an opening that needed to be filled with a new, fresh body.

***

This time, when we arrived, the building was lit. Light streaming out of the open doors made the place feel almost cozy. The man of the hour was standing by the front doors as we walked up, greeting newcomers. If I didn’t know better, I might have said he was a nice guy.

I felt him seize up when he saw us; perhaps Willow, or rather Starlight, had told him about our encounter the other day. Carefully, the tension melted away from him as he turned to face us. It was a practiced sense of friendliness, the type you’d expect from a salesperson hoping for their next big commission.

“Detectives, what a pleasure it is to meet you,” he said. “Starlight has told me all about you two.”

“Good,” I said. “Then we can skip the introductions.”

“You’re Zenith, right?” Gabe said. “The big man in charge?”

“That would be me,” he said. “I am the leader of this humble gathering. I hope you find it to your liking.”

The smile plastered on his face was the perfect empty grin; it didn’t meet his eyes.

“Don’t mind us,” Gabe said. “We’re just here to see what you guys are all about. You won’t even notice us.”

Gabe clapped him on the shoulder as we walked past. Zenith bristled at the touch. If only looks could kill.

“By all means,” he replied. “Please, make yourself at home.”

The inside of the building looked rather homely. It was furnished simply with rows of wooden pews. In the center, dividing them, was a red runner which led from the front steps to the altar. Ether chambers lined the walls off to the side. Under closer inspection, they showed clear signs of use. The handles to the doors were polished from many hands.

We took our seats shortly before Willow walked by holding a tray of refreshments. She handed us cups of red Kool-Aid and passed out sugar cookies on small paper plates. I arched an eyebrow, shooting a passing glance at Gabe; he nodded back at me.

There was once a cult called “Heaven’s Gate” that sent their members smiling off to the afterlife in matching track suits and sneakers with cups of poisoned Kool-Aid identical to ours. We didn’t touch our cups.

Zenith took his place at the altar and clapped his hands to catch our attention. He was satisfied once all our eyes were fixed on him. Purposefully, he struck a Buddhist standing bell. Its copper body was shaped as an inverted bowl. The chime hung in the air and was soon joined by the scent of incense burning softly on the altar.

“Friends,” he said. “I have been waiting for you. Yes, just for you.”

He paused to walk down the aisle, looking each attendant in the eyes.

“You are special,” he said. “I have seen the truth, and the truth has called all of you to me tonight. You, who have come to learn the way – the true path to enlightenment. I am blessed to be in such good company.”

The first thing that caught my attention was how imprecise and intangible his words were. They were the type of feel-good nonsense you’d expect from horoscopes and fortune cookies – the sort of targeted messages that said just enough to feel meaningful but could be applied to anything. They were messages that appealed to those who were searching for a way to make this complex gray-hued world just a little bit simpler and easier to understand.

“I am offering you a glorious opportunity to become more – to become more than you ever thought possible,” he continued, straightening out his arms and raising his palms towards the sky. I watched the other attendants trace the arc of his hands in wonder; they were entranced.

The light glinted off of the center of his hands; there were holes there, bored into the palms of his hands. And there was a sense of familiarity to them because those red-rimmed indentations resembled stigmata. He was invoking the image of Jesus, who died for our sins. Did he think of himself as a martyr, or was he just riding off the coattails of a greater man?

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His speech continued on for a while, flowery, personal, and carefully targeted. As he finished speaking his final words, he bowed to us. Many of those seated with us applauded him with tears in their eyes. It was a standing ovation.

He walked around the pews and cupped their faces with one hand. ‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ he said as he made the sign of the cross on their foreheads with the other. We hung back, waiting for a chance to speak to Zenith alone. It was when he was tidying up that we found an opening.

“Do you have a moment, Zenith?” I asked. “We have a few questions for you.”

“Of course, detectives,” he said. “I am at your disposal. Please, just give me a moment.”

He proceeded to neatly fold up the red velvet cloth laid over the marble altar. Red on white, blood on flesh – I’m sure he enjoyed his symbolism. Faiths built on thousands of years of human soul-searching weren’t a bad place to start if you wanted to prey on the lost and wary. He was their shepherd, and they were his sheep.

The ideology that Zenith preached was composed of long-standing faiths reskinned and combined with his own personal touch. As he saw it, anybody could become transcendent with a bit of metal melded to their flesh. It was a perversion of faith and behind the altar, there was another sign of his interference. Where normally a cross would have hung, there was a golden eye shaped frame wrapping around a holographic projector shaped like an iris.

“Are you interested in our All-Seeing-Eye, Detective?” he asked.

“I have to admit that I am curious,” I replied.

“It is the Eye of Providence,” he said. “I believe eyes are not meant only to perceive, but also to project. This relic is used only for our highest, to see it is a great honor. On nights like these where we welcome new friends, it sits idle. Guests are not permitted to see the truth until they have proven themselves worthy.”

“And how would they do that?” I asked. “Did Nathan prove himself?”

He narrowed his eyes but carried on easily.

“Nathan was one of our best. I hoped that he would be able to dedicate himself properly, but he lost faith during the transitionary period,” he said.

“Was it because he experienced rejection?” I asked. “I’m guessing he wanted to have his implants removed, is that right?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Nathan was incompatible with our message. We believe that metal will choose its master. Once you are chosen, you must never stray. He chose the coward’s path and ran,” he seethed, jaw clenched.

Gabe and I gave each other a look. It couldn’t be this easy. We had come here looking for a motive, and he had just offered one up to us on a nice, big serving platter. Most people would have lied through their teeth and sworn that there were no hard feelings, all water under the bridge, if not out of good faith, then out of self-preservation.

“Can you tell us where you were last Friday night?” I asked.

“If you must know, I was here,” he said. “An idle mind is the devil's workshop; I always broadcast our virtual sermons on Friday nights.”

“Do you mind if we verify that?” I asked.

“Be my guest,” he said. “There is a video on our server. I’m not surprised that you would not take me at my word; perhaps it is true what they say about cops, that they are all rats.”

His lips twitched this time when he attempted to smile; we pretended not to notice.

“I’ll get Ethan on it,” Gabe said, tapping his fingers to his temple.

I nodded to him and turned back to Zenith. His gaze on me was razor-sharp.

“How many members does your group have?” I asked.

“There are many that frequent here, but only four have earned the right to call themselves Luminaries; that would, of course, include myself.”

“Not a lot of people,” Gabe observed.

“You came here on the behest of just one man, and you question the value of four? Even four souls worthy of enlightenment who can see the truth and reach perfection are four more than this city deserves. The people here are dull and stupid, hideous and close-minded. We at the Neo-Luminaries are forging ahead into the future, seeking the truth that the ignorant masses ignore.”

His metal hand gripping the altar sent cracks snaking through it.

“Whoa, easy there buddy,” Gabe said. “We didn’t mean anything by it, just wanted to have a nice chat. Let’s not get too worked up now.”

Our lines rang, Ethan was calling us back.

“I got it; I found the footage he mentioned,” he said. “It was listed as a live stream, but after a closer look behind the scenes, it was clearly prerecorded.”

“So, he has no alibi,” I said.

“You got it,” Ethan answered. “If you wanted to bring him in, now’s your chance.”

Gabe pulled out his handcuffs from a pouch on his belt.

“You are going to arrest me?” he asked, incredulous. “On what grounds?”

“On suspicion of the murder of Nathan Ming,” I said. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning.”

I read him his rights as we escorted him to the cruiser. Surprisingly, he was cooperative and sat in the back when prompted. His stoney expression slowly transformed into a smile, I caught his expression through the reflection of the rear-view mirror. Something didn’t feel right to me.

“I suppose I’ll play along for now,” he said. “It won’t be long anyway; you can’t keep me. I’ll be a free man by the end of the day.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“I’ve already called a lawyer,” he replied. “And I will say that he’s rather good, one of the best actually. He’s one of the best that money can buy, and you are just one of many, many cops that have no business with me.”

It was a clear taunt. He was trying to rile us up, and I wasn’t going to let him. I kept my face straight and stared straight ahead for the rest of the ride, but I studied him during. He was up to something, and I had a bad feeling about it.

When we got to the station, a sharply dressed man was there waiting for us. His freshly pressed suit stood out like a sore thumb. That type of attire was reserved for people who didn’t have to get their hands dirty – people who weren’t blue-collar workers like us. The man straightened up as we pulled in and adjusted his glasses.

“Detectives,” he said. “I would appreciate it if you would unhand my client.”

“I take it you’re his lawyer then?” I asked.

“I am,” he confirmed. “And I’m here to represent my client who has been clearly mistreated by the Volare City Police Department.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Surely, you must be aware of the law, Detective. Where should I start?” He tapped on his temples and read off a list visible only through his Iris. “Unlawful detainment. Breaching the backend of a private server without a warrant–”

Normally, all that red tape was more of a suggestion than a rule. The VCPD ran fast and loose with the way we got the job done. The upside was that cases could move quickly; the downside was that things could get through, tangled up in lies and corruption. We were about to tell his lawyer off, but before we got the chance, we were interrupted by the authoritative presence of Lieutenant Blackwood.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.

“Lieutenant Blackwood, we’re bringing in a suspect for the murder of Nathan Ming,” Gabe said.

“No,” she said. “You aren’t because you’re letting him go. Now.”

Gabe straightened up, blinking like it’d help him hear better. Neither of us could believe it. Then, not wanting any trouble, he did as he was told and removed Zenith’s handcuffs. Zenith rubbed his wrists gingerly, then shot us his best shit-eating grin as he sauntered out of the precinct, a free man.

“Lieutenant,” Gabe said. “What’s going on?”

“This is on a need-to-know basis, and you do not need to know,” she shot back, staring at us over her wire frame glasses. “Don’t ask questions.”

Then we watched as she strode away wordlessly, her heels clacking on the hard linoleum floor. I felt like the air had just been knocked out of me. In the end, he was in and out of the precinct in under an hour, just as he had predicted, and we were left scratching our heads in the dark.