Two Of Hearts

1.1 - The Devil

??? POV

Devils are real.

They are scattered all around us.

In fact, there are so many that you cannot count them on your fingers.

In this room, surrounded by people, dressed in elegant clothes, and appearing so innocent, they mingle and hide.

Their attire is clean, their words are polished, and their faces are fresh. But behind this façade, many harbor demons in their hearts.

"That girl playing the violin is so hot," I heard a man say while staring at the girl playing the violin on stage.

She was accompanied by another beautiful woman who played the piano with grace and class.

They created music that was truly delightful to hear.

It felt as if you were in a magical world.

The notes transported you to a realm devoid of cruelty, filled only with beauty.

The music wrapped your heart in warmth, like a hand providing the comfort it desperately needed.

It was as if angels were playing in heaven, welcoming you into their paradise.

Yet, even these two young women, seen as angels by the audience, were being demonized by the very eyes that admired them.

And me? I am here, witnessing it all. I am God's emissary, here to judge those with demonic hearts.

I am the child of God, destined to judge those who let their demonic nature prevail.

I...

I am an angel.

My first judgment was not perfect. It was sloppy; I almost got caught thanks to the girl, but the process brought me immense joy.

I felt as if I was in God's embrace once again. Somehow, the number of demons in this world has been reduced.

In a dimly lit room adjacent to the main hall, a different kind of performance was unfolding, one hidden from the innocent eyes outside.

The elegance of the music created a deceptive contrast to the horror contained within these four walls.

"Ahhh!!!" A loud scream of pain echoed, unheard outside due to the powerful music played by the two angels.

"Have mercy on me, please," a man begged, his voice cracking with fear and desperation.

I merely laughed, savoring the irony of his plea.

Mercy?

From an emissary of divine judgment?

Blood splattered against the cold, gray walls as I continued my work.

The man before me, once a figure of power and deceit, was now reduced to a quivering, pleading wreck.

His eyes, wide with terror, met mine, searching for a hint of compassion that would never come.

"This is just the beginning," I whispered, my voice lost in the cacophony of his agony.

"My judgment has only begun."

I am God's emissary.

•••

Seyren's POV

The next morning, I was abruptly awakened by the sensation of falling out of my bed.

My head hit the floor with a resounding thud, instantly jolting me into full consciousness.

Groggily, I stood up and reached for my phone, which was lying on the nightstand beside my bed.

I powered it on, curious about the time, as my alarm had seemingly failed to go off.

9:30 AM.

My eyes widened in disbelief.

Not only was it much later than I had anticipated, but my screen was also inundated with a barrage of text notifications from my coworkers.

From: Anthony Guerrero

Ms Valencia, please come to work a little early, may ibibigay ako sa'yong case.

5:30am

From: Anthony Guerrero

Ms Valencia, are you up?

6:00am

From: Anthony Guerrero

Ms Valencia, you are now needed, please pumasok ka ng maaga.

6:15am

From: Anthony Guerrero

Ms Valencia?

6:30am

Panic set in as I scrolled through the messages, each one more urgent than the last.

The reality of my tardiness hit me like a freight train, and I felt a sinking dread in the pit of my stomach.

Desperately trying to regain my composure, I quickly ran through a mental checklist of my morning routine, knowing I had to expedite every step to make up for lost time.

I quickly showered and got ready.

Cursing myself internally, I couldn't believe I was already late on my first day as a detective.

I grabbed a black t-shirt, blazer, trousers, and shoes, all in a hurry.

Skipping breakfast, I grabbed my moped, put on my helmet, and sped off.

The urgency in my movements matched the tension I felt inside.

I headed straight to the location Mr. Guerrero had sent in one of his messages.

When I arrived, the scene was chaotic.

A crowd of onlookers had gathered, and police officers were stationed at the entrance of the building, their presence adding to the gravity of the situation.

This was the same building where the concert had taken place last night.

As I approached the barricade tape, I showed my new ID to the officers.

They immediately let me through, understanding the urgency.

One of the officers volunteered to guide me to the crime scene.

Walking into the building, I was struck by the grandeur of the main lobby, a reminder of the hotel's opulence.

The officer led me to a floor where two seasoned detectives, colleagues of mine, were already at work.

Upon arriving, I donned a face mask and gloves, steeling myself for what lay ahead.

"Finally, the new detective has arrived," Mr. Guerrero greeted me with a hint of amusement in his voice. He was a respected detective and someone I considered a friend.

Even from the doorway, the pungent smell of alcohol and something far worse hit me.

The crime scene was in a suite room, spacious and luxurious, a stark contrast to the grim reality that had unfolded within.

"Sorry for being late. I don't have a good or valid reason, so I'll accept any reprimand," I said, feeling a mix of shame and anxiety. Mr. Guerrero chuckled, his eyes showing a hint of understanding.

"I'm not going to reprimand you. But if it were Sky, maybe. You're lucky she's not here today, so this case has fallen to you," he said, patting my shoulder in a friendly manner.

"First case mo 'to pero heavy na. Sure ka kaya mo?"

"Yes, sir" I answered so confidently.

As we stepped into the living room, the sight that greeted me was chaotic.

Other officers were meticulously taking photographs, documenting every detail.

The room was a mess, littered with broken wine bottles and other debris.

But what truly made my heart stop was the body lying on the floor.

The victim's lifeless form was a stark reminder of the violence that had occurred.

My breath caught in my throat as I took in the scene.

Blood splattered across the floor and walls, and the room reeked of death and decay.

The sight of the man's body was so horrifying that I rushed to the nearest bathroom and vomited into the sink.

I had just seen a male corpse, naked, with his genitals cut off, his face smashed in, and all the fingers on his hands severed.

The sheer brutality of the scene left me reeling, my stomach churning with a mix of shock and revulsion.

It was as though every grotesque detail was imprinted in my mind, refusing to let go.

I leaned heavily on the bathroom sink, trying to steady my breathing, but the image of the mutilated body kept flashing before my eyes.

My hands trembled as I splashed cold water on my face, hoping to wash away the nausea and the horror.

I had been a police officer for years, and I had seen my share of gruesome crime scenes.

But this was different.

The sheer savagery of the act was beyond anything I had ever encountered.

It seemed like the work of a demon, something out of a nightmare.

"Huy, ayos ka lang? I know you have a weak stomach when it comes to this."

"I'm fine naman po. Just a little bit discombobulated." I said, stepping out of the bathroom, my voice trembling slightly.

"What happened here?"

Mr. Guerrero, with a reassuring gesture, handed me a piece of candy.

"Here, take this. It might help with the aftertaste from what you just vomited." He placed the candy into my palm, and I accepted it gratefully, unwrapping it and popping it into my mouth.

"According to the janitor" he began

"He was simply scheduled to clean this room because it wasn't marked as reserved or occupied in their computer system. When the janitor entered, he was met with the sight of the victim." As he spoke, we moved closer to the gruesome scene, and I could feel the weight of the situation pressing heavily on me.

"Take a look at this CCTV footage I managed to get," Mr. Guerrero said, handing me his phone.

I took it and focused on the screen, trying to steady my nerves.

The video footage began with the victim entering the elevator accompanied by Azara, my step-sister.

They appeared to be talking, though I couldn't make out the details.

A second clip showed them entering a room. After a few minutes, the footage revealed another person leaving the room, carrying Azara, who was clearly unconscious or incapacitated.

The other person was unrecognizable.

"There's no footage showing the suspect entering the building," Mr. Guerrero explained, frustration evident in his tone.

"The individual wore a black mask, a black hoodie, and a black cap, making them virtually unrecognizable."

I frowned, trying to piece together the chaotic scene in front of me.

"What exactly happened? Why is Ms. Cameron mixed up in this?" My voice carried a note of urgency as I sought clarity.

Mr. Guerrero's face grew serious.

"According to the witness, the individuals involved, including Ms. Cameron, were supposed to be in this room simply to have a conversation. They were not expecting anything out of the ordinary. The witness was unsure of what transpired after they entered the room. However, it's clear that Ms. Cameron became a victim herself. She sustained two stab wounds to her back, which caused her to lose consciousness." I just nodded, my eyes scanned the whole room.

"The most troubling part is that the same criminal who attacked her was the one who brought her to the hospital. The staff, unaware of the criminal's identity, focused solely on treating Ms. Cameron. They paid no attention to the person who brought her in, thus missing the crucial detail that would have exposed the perpetrator. The criminal managed to blend in with the medical staff, effectively avoiding immediate suspicion."

Nanatili naman ang mga mata ko sa biktima. Hindi kaya ng sikmura ko pero sinusubukan kong magpakatatag.

"I can only make one deduction about the individual responsible for this crime," Mr. Guerrero said with a stern expression.

"This person harbored an intense hatred for the victim, which is apparent from the brutality inflicted-notice, the victim's fingers are completely severed. We've combed every inch of this room in our search, but we've yet to find any of them. Our other team is currently scouring the surrounding areas, hoping to recover the missing fingers."

My eyes continued to roam the room, absorbing every detail of the scene.

In a corner near where the sofa was positioned, something caught my attention.

I moved closer to investigate, and there, partially hidden, was a gentle monster cap. It seemed to have been discarded or dropped in haste.

Adjacent to the sofa, I discovered traces of blood and a series of dirty shoe prints.

The floor was covered with these prints-both dirt and blood-streaked.

There's a possibility that the killer pinned him in this couch because I know damn well hindi magsusuot si Azara ng ganitong cap.

It's so lame.

I ventured to the balcony, noting that each room in this building had one.

I began to piece together the possible actions of the criminal, imagining myself in their place.

If I were the perpetrator and wanted to avoid being seen entering a room directly, I would likely use the balcony above to access the area discreetly.

By utilizing the pipe, I could slide down to the desired balcony.

From this vantage point, I would leap over the railings, conceal myself against the wall, and wait patiently for the opportune moment to launch my attack.

"Anong ginagawa mo diyan? Don't tell me susuka ka na naman?"

"Hindi po, I'm examining the whole room." Pag amin ko.

I reentered the room and continued to scan the surroundings with focused intensity.

"Is there no evidence from the killer?" I asked, my voice carrying a hint of frustration. Mr. Guerrero shook his head, his eyes glued to the CCTV footage on his phone.

"Unfortunately, the killer was very skilled. They've left behind nothing but an unusually large shoe print. There's no handprint, no knife, or any other clue that could help us identify them. We're just waiting for Ms. Cameron to regain consciousness so we can get her statement. Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I need you to interview Ms. Cameron when she wakes up. She might be more comfortable speaking with a female investigator," Mr. Guerrero explained. I found myself unwilling to accept this task.

What I found most objectionable was the thought of interacting with Azara. Ever since I went to college and was given my own condo by her father, we have barely communicated.

Why do I have such aversion towards her?

She has always been harsh and unfriendly towards me.

Her disdain was palpable when we were younger, which only deepened my feelings of resentment.

We have always clashed.

"I've finished the reports. Take these to our headquarters and grab something to eat. I can hear your stomach growling," Mr. Guerrero said, handing me the papers and evidence items.

I felt a flush of embarrassment at his comment; he was right. My stomach had been rumbling with hunger for quite some time.

I bid him farewell and made my way out of the building.

Outside, I was approached by numerous individuals seeking a statement from me, but I chose to remain silent.

I felt it was not yet my place to speak, being still new to this role. I am, after all, a rookie.

I arrived at the headquarters as instructed, with a sense of urgency and professionalism.

Upon entering, I approached our team with the reports and items, neatly packed in a zip bag, that I had gathered.

"Detective Valencia, here are the questions you need to ask Ms. Cameron," said one of my colleagues, handing me a clipboard.

His tone was matter-of-fact, and the clipboard was filled with carefully compiled questions for the interview.

I accepted the clipboard with a nod and then excused myself from the room to handle the next steps.

After leaving the headquarters, I walked to a nearby 7/11.

The crisp evening air felt good, but my mind was preoccupied with the case.

I bought three onigiri, intending to grab a quick bite.

However, as I contemplated the grim scene I had witnessed earlier, my appetite vanished.

The disturbing images of the crime scene were replayed in my mind, and I found myself unable to enjoy even the simplest of meals.

I decided to head straight to the hospital where Mr. Guerrero had informed me Azara was located.

The urgency in my steps matched the seriousness of the situation.

Upon arriving at the hospital, I went straight to the reception counter.

I showed my ID and inquired about the specific room where Azara was admitted.

A nurse, seeing my evident concern, kindly volunteered to guide me to the room.

I gratefully accepted her assistance, knowing that navigating a hospital's labyrinthine corridors could be a challenge on its own.

As we arrived at the room, I saw the Cameron family gathered around Azara's hospital bed.

The room was filled with a tense but hopeful atmosphere.

Azara lay there, remarkably alert and smiling as if nothing had happened to her.

Her demeanor was almost incongruous with the seriousness of the situation, adding to the strangeness of the scene.

"OMG, Seyren, I'm so glad you're here!" Aunt Azalea exclaimed.

She was the wife of Uncle Elliot, who had adopted me years ago.

Her warm, affectionate gesture as she embraced me was a stark contrast to the cold reality of the situation.

She clung to me, her tears flowing freely, clearly overwhelmed by the emotional strain.

"Are you the one handling your sister's case?" Uncle Elliot asked, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity.

I nodded in response and managed a reassuring smile, though my mind was already racing through the details of the case.

"Her? Are we taking this case seriously, or is this just a joke? Because if this is a joke, it's not funny," Azara interjected sharply.

Her tone was biting, and her cold demeanor was unmistakably directed at me.

This was precisely why I had been reluctant to engage with her.

Azara had always been abrasive and challenging, and her confrontational attitude only fueled the underlying tension between us.

Despite the gravity of the situation, her attitude was a reminder of the personal difficulties I had faced with her over the years.

"Ano bang gagawin mo ngayon?" Asked Tito Elliot as I made my way inside the room.

"Just some interviews and shits. It won't take a while so I please cooperate with me." Umupo ako sa sofa malapit sa hospital bed.

"I think you two need some space, Mom, Dad, why do we grab some food to eat?" That was Elowen, Azara's younger sister.

Compared to her, she was sweet and gentle, this girl in front of me? She's cold and bland, like a kapeng barako.

But they're beautiful.

When I behold Azara, I encounter an almost ethereal beauty.

Her azure eyes, profound and enigmatic, and her full, sculpted lips, exude a mesmerizing allure.

Her dark, flowing hair accentuates her flawless symmetry, while her effortless grace and quiet confidence infuse her presence with a timeless elegance.

She seems to inhabit a realm where beauty and magnetism transcend the ordinary.

"So what were you doing with Mr Alvarez last night"

xxxxx

To be continued....