XXXVI
1172 Words
XXXVI
Amal entered The Cistern stadium amidst a loud commotion of police officers and detectives. She forced her way through the crowd and spotted her husband.
Demetrius was standing next to an ice water stand, writing in his notebook.
He needed a new outfit. His beige trench coat was fading, and his derby hat was fraying at the edges. He was drenched from the rain. The look on his face was somewhere between stoic and concerned. She knew him.
Something was wrong.
He looked up and smiled.
“This must have been pretty important,” Amal said.
“You’re not going to believe it,” Demetrius said, running a hand along the side of his cheek. “Come with me.”
She followed him up some stairs and into the performance area. Immediately she heard whispers and camera flashes that told her she was at the scene of a murder.
They crested the top of the stairs, and then Amal gasped when she saw Mynthia impaled on the stage. Thunder shook the area, and the rain picked up, pouring sheets onto the stage in a jagged, irregular pattern.
“Oh my God,” she said, putting her hands over her mouth.
“I’m about to lose my remaining hair,” Demetrius said, taking off his hat and revealing a bald spot where his nappy hair was thinning at the top. “It’s a mess.”
“Who could have done this?” she asked.
“Only a dragon. A powerful one at that.”
Several photographers moved across the stage, photographing Mynthia’s dead body. Amal wanted to go to the stage but her feet wouldn’t move.
“This wasn’t a run-of-the-mill murder,” Demetrius said. “In all my years in the MCU, I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s downright vicious. Whoever killed her wanted her to die, and they probably enjoyed doing it.”
Amal worked up the strength to walk to the stage. She moved down some steps but Demetrius grabbed her arm. Below, a trail of blood started next to her foot.
“Any leads?” she asked.
“I’m not even done telling you the rest of the story,” Demetrius said. “We found her sister, Meah, dead at the Museum of Natural History. Poison.”
“Good lord.”
“We’re thinking it was the same suspect. She was poisoned by a grimoire. The killings happened within an hour of each other.”
“Have you notified Moss?” Amal asked.
“Here’s where it gets strange,” Demetrius said. “Moss is nowhere to be found. We have some unconfirmed reports that say he left the city shortly after all of this happened.”
“You don’t think he did it, do you?” Amal asked.
Demetrius shrugged. “I don’t see a motive. If anything, he fled because he might be next.”
“But where’s he going to go?” Amal asked. “He’s in Abstraction. He’ll have to return eventually. He can’t use magic.”
“No idea. We’ve got authorities searching for him. But in the meantime, we need to figure out who did this.”
Amal reached into her purse and pulled out a gift card to a local coffee shop. She had been meaning to use it but had never gotten around to it. She handed it to him.
“You’re going to need it,” she said.
“Thanks, baby.”
“Can we go closer?” she asked.
Demetrius whistled and got the coroner’s attention. The coroner, a thin man with a beard in a blue suit, motioned them forward.
When they reached the stage, the smell of slight decomposition reached them. Sickly sweet. Flies were beginning to gather around the dragon’s head.
“Stay back,” the coroner said. “We’re seeing some rigor mortis.”
As if commanded, the dragon’s tail flipped upward and curled on itself, then slammed down onto the stage.
Amal was thrown back but Demetrius caught her. He rubbed her shoulders and asked if she was okay.
“Chief, good to see you,” the coroner said, nodding to Amal.
“Good to see you.” It was strange to be called her old title, but in a way, she preferred.
“You thinking about coming back to this line of work after the election?” the coroner asked.
“Not if I win,” she said, laughing.
She walked around the stage with a look of concern, studying the dragon’s bloody scales. She stopped short of a pool of blood.
“It was a damned bloody struggle,” the coroner said. “I don’t think anyone in this stadium has ever seen anything like it. We’re looking at around seven bite marks all over her body. Horrible gash in her neck. No major arteries hit, though. fifteen bruises, scratch marks everywhere. Cause of death was blunt trauma to the neck.”
The coroner exhaled, as if what he was going to say was a surprise even to him. “This is a dragon murder to end all dragon murders.”
Amal knelt down. In the middle of the pool of blood was a yellow, decaying tooth.
“We found a couple of those around the stage,” the coroner said.
“Are they the victim’s?”
“We don’t think so,” the coroner said. “The curvature is more along the lines of a Keeper. An older one. We’ll have lab results in a few days.”
Demetrius flipped a page on his notebook and traced a finger along his notes.
“Happened about an hour after the concert was over,” Demetrius said. “Witnesses reported gruesome noises from the stadium, and very loud music even though the concert was finished.”
“Did you check the cameras?” Amal said.
“Nothing,” Demetrius said. “They’re only in the atriums. Witnesses report a silver Keeper dragon flying out of the stadium right after the noise ended. But he flew into the storm clouds so no one could comment on which direction he fled.”
The coroner’s phone rang and he excused himself.
“This is going to be one hell of a news story,” Demetrius said. “It’ll take some focus off the election.”
“That’s also why I’m here,” Amal said.
She motioned him to follow her as she moved behind a stage curtain. When they were out of earshot of the photographers on stage, she whispered “Lucan Grimoire is finished.”
Demetrius’s eyes widened.
“The incident at the bog,” Amal said. “It was him.”
“How?”
“He found the tomb of Old Dark,” Amal said. “Apparently the dragon is alive and in pretty bad shape. Lucan’s been keeping him in his factory. They covered up the discovery. Not only is he in violation of the Magical Lands Act, he lied about the shooting. I found the shooter’s son, and he’s willing to cooperate with you in exchange for protection.”
A sly smile crept across Demetrius’s face. “Are you sure? This is too good to be true.”
“I gave Lucan forty-eight hours to come clean to the media,” Amal said. “He’ll be the one doing the exposing, not me. It’ll be a two-person race this time tomorrow—me and the governor.”
“I knew he was up to something,” Demetrius said, rubbing his head.
They both stared at the dragon again.
“What’s this society coming to?” Amal asked. “When a billionaire can cover up a historical secret, a dragon can be murdered like this, and the electorate can be so anesthetized? What does that say about us?”
“That sounds like the beginning of a great stump speech,” Demetrius said.
“I don’t know.”
She folded her arms and frowned. So much had been going through her head in the last few hours.
“I’m tired of the negativity,” she said. “I’m the honest candidate, remember?”
Demetrius put his arm around her shoulder. “Baby, sometimes the truth’s gotta hurt.”
- Writer
