-10th of June 2022, Cologne

Being a Detective in Cologne has always been a ride, what with the number of tourists disregarding signs and the Department for Esoteric Defence breathing down our neck.

And as if the job wasn't hard enough by default, Cologne is a hotspot for supernaturals like vampires, mages, lycanthropes, fey and even the occasional demons. Dragons prefer the settlements towards the east, thank fuck, so they are rarely seen here. It has something to do with the local ley lines but I was never formally taught about the magical side of things.

I have always dreamt of working for the Department of Esoteric Defence since I was a little kid, relishing in the stories of my grandfather and wanting to be as cool as him but my slip-up in university and the revelation of just what I'd be dealing with quickly stomped that dream into the dirt.

I mean, who would want to constantly argue with creatures far stronger than oneself, when the most they would get for killing you was a metaphorical slap on the wrist?

So I applied to be a Detective in Cologne, moving way west to get some distance between me and my past. But hoping that distance would help me, is a fool’s dream.

But I am getting off-topic. Apologies.

It was a nice winter day and I was at home cooking for my family.

Rebecca, my wife of four years, she had red hair at the time, prone to dying it often depending on her mood, and was completely exhausted from work. She lay on the couch and watched a Cartoon -Bugs Bunny- with our son, Daniel, while sipping a soda.

Daniel was always a bright kid, learning quickly and always on the prowl for a new book to read. Although he was quiet and never had many friends, no one disliked him as far as we were aware. His ninth birthday was in a week and he had subtly hinted at wanting a book about modern myths at every single opportunity that presented itself.

I’d just gotten the roast out of the oven when my mobile rang.

"There's a new case," a familiar feminine voice said, without as much as a greeting. I recognized her as Claire, my secretary.

"It can wait," I replied, basting the roast in its juices after having stuck the phone between my shoulder and ear. "I just finished dinner."

"You're going to want to hear this," she said right before I would have hung up on her.

I checked on the potatoes. "You have five minutes to convince me."

I heard her reshuffle some files before starting, probably putting the most important ones towards the front. "They have very little evidence to go off and I've got your favourite coffee for you, " she offered, followed by another bout of paper being shuffled around. "They want you on it because of your gift even after I denied you having one, but they wouldn't listen. Sorry."

They? It must be the Department of Esoteric Defence, Claire didn't easily take orders.

"Yeah, what's my favourite coffee?" I challenged but we both knew she had me at ‘the Department of Esoteric Defence calling it little evidence.’ I had a penchant for solving those cases, finding miniscule traces, or even connections to people others wouldn't have considered.

She hummed thoughtfully before answering "Your taste in coffee is just as bad as your taste in women. Irish, with one sugar and a shot of milk."

I looked over to my wife. She had her big Wyrm plushie in her arms, blissfully unaware that such a thing actually existed, and let me assure you they did not like to cuddle. Her red hair was a mess and she had two stains on the shirt she was wearing -my old university shirt- but she was still cute, though perhaps, homely might have been more fitting.

Noticing my look, she stuck her tongue out and made the Wyrm glare at me. I shouldn't forget that she can be childish.

"Agree to disagree," I said.

Claire loudly slurped a drink, probably some of my coffee, before replying "Yeah, the coffee is drinkable. Not rancid."

I never understood what Claire disliked about Rebecca. I mean, sure, she was a cutthroat lawyer who’d fought against us dozens of times, defending the very people I tried to put behind bars, but she’d never met Rebecca outside of work.

Insulting Rebecca is still one of the few things that could make me actually boil in anger, but I know Claire and Rebecca didn't see it as serious badgering, more like friendly banter without the chatting in between. Old friends who fell out of touch, but the connection remained, allowing for the banter. It did make me wonder whether they knew each other, but they only met the few times Rebecca surprised me at work.

"Yeah, send me the address, I'll be there." I hung up and put my phone on the counter.

It lit up before I even put it down, showing me an address fifteen minutes away from my apartment, with a pouting emoji beneath it.

I checked the potatoes again, knowing they wouldn't be ready, before cutting off a few thin slices of the roast.

I grabbed my lunchbox and two slices of bread, and made myself a sandwich using the roast and some coleslaw I had in the fridge as my late dinner.

"Another case?" Rebecca asked, putting the plushie on the couch next to her. I always felt bad for leaving her for work, but we went into this knowing that we were both going to be putting in way more than 40 hours a week, and we made it work.

I grabbed my lunchbox and left my thermos -Claire had coffee for me after all- and walked over.

"Yeah, it's another one they need me for," I explained, stopping to place a kiss on her forehead, "I think this one might take a little longer, so don't wait up. I'll sneak in tonight. Oh, the potatoes need three minutes and then you two can eat."

"Wait," Rebecca said, catching my arm, "you forgot something. "

I leaned in for a quick kiss and felt her slip something into my bag as our lips met.

"Do not stay awake to try and catch me, Daniel, you've got school," I reminded him, ruffling his hair as I passed him.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

He continued to watch TV, but I saw the glint in his eyes. He would try.

----------------------------------------

"I hope you weren't drinking my coffee earlier," I greeted Claire before ducking under the police tape.

"Of course not," she said, handing me my coffee and a folder. "I took a quick peek inside the scene and this is probably going to be the first of many. No way you are going to catch this one today."

"Wanna bet?" I challenged her, flipping open the folder with one hand while sipping the coffee with the other.

"No, I know how that'd end."

I was greeted by a picture of a middle-aged Caucasian woman holding a sign with her name and a number in an orange overall. An ex-prisoner. Meredith Bauer was her name, and she had previously been arrested for multiple accounts of Driving under the Influence of Drugs and a homicide. Claire did her homework and the files for her former misconducts were attached along with financial records.

Claire showed her badge that she got online for a few euros, and the two uniformed officers let us into the apartment. She didn't need a badge and it didn’t even look like a proper one, but the officers recognised us, as we’d gained a bit of a reputation at this point, and let her in either way.

Meredith Bauer didn't have any close family or friends as far as official records and neighbours went, but she seemed familiar to me. Her family had cut ties with her during her sentence, and the neighbours told the officers that she rarely left the apartment outside of work and never joined them for drinks.

I would have to talk with the neighbours myself at one point or let Claire do it. Her gift allowed her to be even more thorough than my years of experience.

The apartment itself was nothing out of the ordinary. A three room apartment with a small kitchen, living room, bath and bedroom, all visible from the living room. All the doors had been ripped open and left like that.

"She must have searched for something before being attacked," I voiced my thoughts out loud as per usual. "Or the attacker did." I’d have to check for any obviously missing objects like jewellery.

Claire had always been smart, but this part of the job was not for her, which was why she never made the jump to Detective. She still picked the files from my outstretched hand and diligently wrote down everything I said, organising it.

I may have been a great cook and an even better detective, but I’d never been tidy as my long suffering wife can attest.

There’d definitely been a fight before she was killed. Cutlery and food had been used as improvised weapons, two sets of cutlery but only one glass. I put my gloves on, so as to not taint the evidence.

A quick check of the drawers confirmed my thoughts, a second person was here or at least expected to show up. None of the drawers were ripped open and the kitchen showed no signs of a fight.

The bathroom and bedroom similarly showed no signs of a fight so I closed those doors, narrowing my focus.

The only thing that struck me as odd inside of the bedroom was the unmade bed. Considering the prison she went to, she should have always made her bed as a ritual and that normally would have lasted longer than two months.

The warden had always been an asshole but he was fair as long as you hadn't given him a reason to hate you. "Remind me to check in with Lars, see who Meredith's cellmate was over a game of darts," I told Claire and she quickly scribbled a reminder on a sticky note.

I turned to our main lead, the fight, and started to state all relevant details I could find to Claire.

The plates and the cutlery had been thrown towards the front door and smashed against the wall, probably an opening move on our attackers side. That means Meredith sat with her back to the door and the floor mirror.

The food was a simple Stew, fancier than prison food but not by much. Our prisons served pretty good meals considering their low funding.

The two knives laid next to the floor mirror, which was cracked, and were drenched in blood.

A big blood trail led right up to the mirror, staining the bottom of it and the entire floor. It was two metres long, thinning away from the mirror and had furrows in the carpet, like someone got dragged away, through or into the mirror.

The floor mirror seemed to be the focus of this scene so I investigated it in detail. It was approximately 190cm tall and 95cm wide and hung just above the ground. It was cracked but the singular pieces hadn't fallen out. It looked like something big and softish impacted it from the web of cracks.

I remembered a talk I had with the Warden about a trick his prisoners frequently used to hide notes or money and tilted the mirror forwards.

A folded piece of paper slipped out from the back, landing in the blood for but a moment before I picked it up. It must have been dislodged during the fight.

It was a picture of Meredith and my wife, Rebecca, hugging each other around the neck with one arm while holding a beer in the other.

Claire handed me a plastic bag so I put the picture inside before handing it back.

She glanced at it before noting something else on her clipboard.

I took a sample of the blood splatter just to be safe before sitting down next to it. I had exhausted all of my mundane methods to gather information for now so I turned to the esoteric ones.

"Wait outside, let no one in," I ordered Claire. She could have stayed because she knew about my abilities already but it was always safer to keep a lookout for other people. It didn't help that I had more violent reactions sometimes and I didn't want to hurt anyone.

She complied but hesitated for a second before shutting the door.

I put my hand flat against the blood stained carpet and reached out, steadying my breath before the inevitable black out could-

----------------------------------------

I was being dragged over my floor, hands desperately trying to dig into the carpet as I felt my feet getting ripped from the rest of my body, tendons snapping.

Scorching knives of pain dug into my thighs, cutting through my muscles and impacting my bones with an audible crack.

I screamed my throat hoarse, hoping that someone, anyone would be able to hear me.

I felt my muscles being peeled away from the bone. Two more painful tendrils impacted me, one puncturing my lower back and leaving a gaping hole as the other one slaps against my neck from the side.

The second one quickly coiled around my neck and started to squeeze, trying to pop my head off of my body before twisting to force my head to look back at it.

The mirror. It was looming over me, impossibly contorting and seemingly growing even more tendrils that were coiling in the air.

Snap

My neck snapped and I found myself staring at my own back and the bloody remains of my legs along with an utterly horrified visage staring at me with tears in its eyes. Was I crying?

----------------------------------------

I was laying on my back, staring at the flickering lights above and had lost the feeling in my legs.

"What the fuck," I rasped out, my throat feeling as if it was closed off, "did that- no, no!"

I tried to sit back up as I slowly regained the feeling in my legs, thoughts racing.

I couldn't believe my senses but I knew that my ability was never wrong. It showed me exactly what the victim had been feeling around the time the wound was inflicted, including the sensation of having my -their- life extinguished if the timing's right.

That in and of itself was a strong ability but I could not change my focus or notice stuff the victim hadn't noticed themselves. I couldn’t review the memories and focus on a specific part like the crying face, it could have very well just been Meredith's reflection but she didn't notice it so neither could I.

I managed to right myself and sit up shortly after but I was wary of reusing my ability so soon on a memory of me dying.

The memory was still fresh in my mind and I had a great memory so watching it again wouldn't have helped me, the more likely scenario would have ended up with me incapacitated for the rest of the day.

The amount of times I had experienced being eaten alive was something I wanted to keep under ten and I was already getting dangerously close to that threshold.

Even after having seen it myself, my thoughts went back to the same conclusion, disregarding my knowledge of the Esoteric, as limited as it may be.

Mirrors can't eat people!