As the cold weather continues to swarm and suffocate the already dense streets of London, the air is only fueled with a piercing tension, sharper than the needle currently plunged in the throat of a middle-aged woman.
She was left in utter disrepair, no part of her recognisable other than her face, a forever implanted petrified, terrified expression etched into her -well lack of existence. The theme of absence continues as she is decapitated, lost for words so to speak, her spinal cord still displayed horrifically, her head placed on a stone pillar without a comforting (yet rather deadly) Griffin gently protecting the streets. The body was nowhere to be found.
Policemen could hear a pin drop when they arrived at the scene, stoic, stationary, silent were the surroundings until the long chain of tension was simply snapped by Artemis himself, accompanied by Zahra, who was on the verge of showcasing what she had for breakfast.
What a funny thought, to view humans as a part of a catalogue.
~???~
Artemis paced around the woman, the quiet he broke earlier was begging to be brought out as the police taped off the scene and escaped the reality of mankind''s true actions. Ignorance was Artemis'' biggest enemy.
“Arty, there''s another one of those disgusting notes, with a flower stuck to it?“ Zahra''s smooth voice was cut, coated with a thick layer of confusion and inquiry as she picked up the letter with a gloved hand. The flower was incredible, white and pristine. Although it didn''t seem to be in season.
“Any growth that isn''t human potential seems impossible in this city,” Artemis stated nonchalantly as if a woman''s spinal cord wasn''t leaking in front of his very eyes.
“Seems to be a tulip, my mam used to own this impeccable garden,” Zahra almost tried to comfort herself as she passed the letter and the tulip to her colleague.
“Let''s have a read then shall we,”
What would you define as art?
Not like it''ll tear me apart
From the performance I play,
To watch them sway,
From the frontlines.
What would you do for a line?
Would you decapitate your future?
Ps. ''The poet who played God'' is definitely my favourite, very clever.
It''ll be a pleasure to be working with you,
Detective Arty ?
Without a cohesive thought running through Artemis'' mind, he suddenly dropped the note alongside the tulip, which was promptly picked up by an officer and swiftly taken away for testing.
“Are you ok?“ Zahra placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, supporting him from afar as he was shaking slightly. The realisations hit him one after the other, waves of reality splashing him as if he were an insignificant shell.
He heard him.
“He heard me.“ Artemis finally started, “He uh, well, ahem he heard a comment I may have claimed during the previous murder,” He coughed, clearing his throat which now desperately pleaded for more water or any type of hydration. Come to think of it, his whole body felt parched. He thought how a nice hot shower could wash away the sin he felt like committing, to strangle the corrupted soul who left a woman simply dangling.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Too bad two wrongs don''t make a right, right?
“That sick bastard,” Artemis meekly nodded, holding onto Zahra to regain his balance, yet his placements were still extremely coordinated. Unable to commit a single error.
After a long pause and a small, weak and feeble swallow from Artemis, his tongue was able to move with much more haste, “He is aware of my name, and my connections alongside this case early on. This feels like no coincidence, the rhyme scheme was perfect with almost no fallacies, fast pace with rhetorical questions. Only the last line broke free of this cursed rhyme,“ He declared.
“That- that is a lot of information, maybe we should meet up with Juliette,” Zahra''s kind voice boomed, her humble nature dedicated to comforting the sick. Something Artemis respected especially, although confused by how she could be so ever patient, he would''ve lost a nerve by now.
After a much more powerful nod, they both got in Zahra''s car, driving on the rough roads filled with cracks from wear and tear. It was ironic, almost hypocritical to Artemis the signs of decay deemed ''appropriate'' by society, laughing without any humour, it was filled with lead as it oozed from the back of his throat in the rather noisy car.
~???~
They finally arrived at a small café, Juliette inside waiting for them as they both solemnly walked inside.
That very café was the complete and utter opposite of what Artemis and Zahra had to suffer earlier, tender, plush jazz from America''s 1920s played, something both of them seemed to need as their faces were hard as flint. Finally, they sat down with Juliette, stern expressions glued to their faces whilst Zahra was trying to soften it ever so slightly.
“What happened? Do I even want to know? Are you two doing alright? Should I call a doctor?“ With each question, Juliette got more and more panicked as the responses she gained were no more than limited, she was mostly greeted with a stone grip of silence. After a moment of pure exhaustion, Zahra spoke up.
“We uh, that murder was one of the worst,” she hesitated to tell Juliette the full truth, her nature to protect the things she deemed fragile overcame the need to tell the truth this time around.
“A woman was found with only her head and her spinal cord out, a needle plunged deeply into her neck -her body wasn''t found. I believe her name was Carmilla Jackson. The killer knows my name and association with the case,” Artemis hoped no one could hear the slight quiver in his voice. Naming the dead as if they were a part of a catalogue was nightmare-inducing.
“I couldn''t imagine how cruel a person has to be to do that,” Juliette finally muttered, with purpose. The long breath of silence stabbed all of them, slowly bled them out until another spoke up with nothing but pure malice towards the deranged psychopath.
“Yeah, uh on a hopefully lighter note, he left us a flower,” Zahra desperately tried to lighten the situation.
“Indeed he did, it was a tulip,”
“A tulip? That represents perfection as well as opportunity, they aren''t in season now they only grow in spring,” Juliette perked up at the slight hint of spring, it was as if the season was hers altogether, Zahra would''ve preferred summer if the conversation ever decided to shift to a much lighter, easier topic.
Artemis pulled out a notebook and started scribbling down notes, nodding alongside Juliette''s calming words, turning a page and looking up at the two of them with confusion.
“Did we ever get any information on Damien?“
“Using first names? Who are you Artemis?“ Zahra tried to joke as Juliette coughed up a small laugh, dropping her lop-sided smile moderately.
“He was an awful person, after you two left I felt I needed to check out the file, a violent man that would abuse women until they were sucked clean.“
“Overconsumption at its finest,” Artemis rolled his eyes, men of that nature were deemed inhuman in his mind, vile, unadulterated anger swept at his feet as he regained his posture, squeezing his eyes shut for a few ticks.
“Holy shit,” Zahra covered her mouth, “Both his intestines were yanked out and placed on display, gluttony,” you could''ve heard a pin drop at the revelation. The ringing burned through their ears as the jazz was smothered. Juliette looked to be on the verge of tears, Artemis clenched his fists together.
“I.. feel like that would be much too obvious, he mentioned the intestines deliberately, I hope he is trying to almost play coy, or maybe even a crude game of red herrings,“ Artemis swallowed thickly, perplexed and trying (and failing) to seem unbothered by this sudden revelation.
“I beg that you are right, but we should remember this,” Zahra smiled, the type of smile you smile when you are in utter disbelief, no humour could hold her accountable as her voice seeped with curiosity and pain. Artemis made it his mission to write down another set of haphazardly drawn symbols and etches into his small notebook, a big ''religious undertones?'' Underlined with the fine ink.
After what felt like decades, they were kicked out of the café, all of them calling it a night, separating to rest in their own houses. Only after creating a simple plan for the next day could they feel any type of relief, meeting with the family of Carmilla would reveal a metallic, bitter truth in the pool of deception they were currently swimming in.
Artemis arrived home soon enough, rushing to take a hot shower that left his skin rosy red, walking out in his sleepwear, he fed his small ragdoll kitten, which he called marshmallow, seemingly the only decision he made in his life that wasn''t intentional, and filled up a glass of water.
All of what he was doing was his normal routine, yet he couldn''t shake the feeling of being watched off his back. It was as if the crime of the man was following him, taunting him. With the inkling of liability, he gasped at every corner, whipping his head around trying to catch something or someone that didn''t exist.
Laughing melancholically, he stepped closer towards his bed. One step at a time. Closer and closer. Until he was at the foot of his bed. His bed. No one else''s. He threw the duvet with an exasperated huff, expecting to find something, anything.
He was almost disappointed. Mostly terrified and paranoid, yet that emotion couldn''t be ignored either, as muffled as it was.
Climbing in bed he was left in silence, darkness and nothingness. Laying his head on the pillow, he felt like he wasn''t sober, drunk on adrenaline. What the fuck was that? He turned at every small noise, marshmallow sat at his feet. It got closer, the noise. Never stopping a beat. Closer, more defined. Artemis could draw out the vibrations. He stood up, opening his door a crack.
He found nothing.