Chương 195: 184. First interview

"Are you sure this is necessary?" Elias asked me as we watched a few FBI personnel prepare the room, hanging the photos and redrawing the symbols.

"Not sure," I lied.

"But what Josh read from the crime scene should have only been the surface symbolism. We need a way to read the rest." Elias nodded, looking at the photos hanging from strings while others wrote the runes on mannequins.

"Death is most likely part of what we will be looking for," I commented.

"You sure we can't use real bodies? I could do something about the decay. They're not useful, just stuck in the morgue." Elias turned to me with a slight frown, trying to read something from my face.

"I can't tell if you're joking or not," he finally said.

"Half joking. Any magic on my part will cost you extra."

"I thought we agreed on a price."

"We agreed on my help and expertise. Spells are a different thing. You know magic is costly," I said, looking at the man.

"Is it?" he asked.

"It is." We stared at each other for a second before someone entered the room.

"Everyone arrived," the man said. Elias nodded and then invited me to join him in one of the office rooms.

"Welcome, everyone," he greeted the remaining people.

"The FBI team under Dwayne's supervision is working from the, let's say, mundane angle. Since we are stretched much thinner, I do expect you to help with other cases while we wait for any progress in our main one." He finished, looking at our group, then continued after no objections were raised.

"Please meet Mr. Marvin," he said, gesturing to the man standing at his side.

"He is our liaison with the rest of the FBI and manages our involvement in cases that might be paranormal." The man was nothing impressive—a standard suit, short military hair, relatively young, relatively handsome, relatively tall. Nothing stood out about him. Marvin nodded at Elias and took the floor. He gave us a short and rather boring introduction, combined with a standard "I'm hoping we get along" speech. The next few days were surprisingly boring compared to what I expected from the FBI.

We did get calls about some of their cases, but, as it turned out, as a new team, we were sent to the easier ones, mostly arriving at a place and checking whether a given killing was paranormal. I wasn't sure if it was Elias's way of testing us, keeping me at a distance, or just bad luck, as for over a week, none of the cases were anything worth our attention.

The most magic we witnessed was a medallion that supposedly whispered to someone, which was a rather weak and boring cursed item, promptly sealed and taken away by the FBI. So, aside from the FBI consulting, I spent my days reading and mostly practicing my eldritch magic. I felt the simple spell, composed of knowledge revealed to me in dream-visions, was right there, almost ready to cast, made easier by my new staff.

However, just as I was losing hope for any action, a request for something more interesting finally came.

"We received an interesting request from the higher-ups." Marvin introduced the case in the office, which was new to me, as I usually just got called right to the scene without the whole TED Talk.

"We would like your help with a 'reading' you supposedly can do." His eyes drifted to Josh.

"A short assignment, just for today, as the case is a high priority. Treat it as a way to get into the higher-ups' good graces. Everything will be explained on the spot by the leading officer." After there were no more questions on our side, we were led into the backyard, where black vans stood, waiting for us. It became clear why I was called here today, as we would be taken to another FBI facility, making it important to arrive as a group.

"So what is it that you actually do?" Marvin asked me as I sat in the car with him and Rey.

"What do you mean?" I asked, curious about how much he knew.

"I mean, like, are you an exorcist?"

"Define exorcist." He seemed to search for the proper words before saying anything.

"You know, you don't look much like a priest, but I was told you are to help with all the demonic stuff."

"Demonic?" I asked, increasingly confused.

"Well, you know—magic. Possessions and stuff? Speaking in tongues, rituals?" I looked at him with a growing frown.

"Did you ever witness one?"

"No, but I did get access to the tapes the FBI has. Some scary shit. There was this girl who spoke curses in Hebrew. And screams from a guy who was missing his tongue." As I listened, I became increasingly sure the paranormal division had a double layer, one shown to people like Marvin here and one explaining the earring Elias wore. That, or he was really dumb and kept out of the loop.

"Curses in Hebrew, huh?" I asked, nodding lightly, seeing a small smile on Rey's face beside me.

"Yeah, scary shit. Let's say I also do curses."

"So can you do that? Like, curse someone?"

"Yeah, more or less," I said with growing amusement.

"Really?" He turned to look at me.

"You know it's a crime to lie to an FBI officer."

"I would never." After some more rather strange conversation, we finally arrived at an FBI building and were led into a room adjacent to an interrogation room. We could see a young man sitting on the other side of the window, which I imagined was a mirror on his side. He seemed relaxed despite the handcuffs, a light smirk on his face, as he rocked on the metal chair. We were greeted by a woman who introduced herself as Sarah, the person in charge of the investigation.

After the brief introductions, Marvin prompted her to explain what the call was about. She looked at our group, clearly skeptical, before asking, "So you are the interrogation experts, huh?"

"No. I'm a wizard," I piped up, making sure not to commit any crimes like lying to an officer. There was a rather awkward moment of silence after my declaration.

"Is he serious?" the woman barked at a panicking Marvin after not finding a shred of humor on my face.

"Look, Sarah. This is Filip. He worked on—" Marvin tried to redirect her attention.

"I know who he is," Sarah cut in, looking at the man.

"I followed the Chesapeake case closely. Great work," she said, shaking Filip's hand.

"Thank you. And I can assure you, my associates know what they are doing. Even if their humor might say otherwise." She still looked a bit skeptical, but finally nodded.

"Fine. We do need help with this one," she said, jerking her head toward the man in the interrogation room.

"Guy killed at least three prostitutes. No staging, no nothing, but the bodies were left in the open."

"Do you have anything on him?" Rey asked. The woman sighed and shook her head.

"No, that's the issue. Everything is circumstantial. He was around all the crime scenes. He knew all the victims. And he's practically bragging about it. Never denies or confirms. A classic sociopath. He gets off on us not having anything concrete on him." The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Did you try the bragger angle?" Filip asked.

"Yeah, and we thought we were getting somewhere, but… I'm not sure how, but he began spouting things he shouldn't know. Like some nasty stuff about our guy. One officer almost swung at him. I caught him before anything happened, but he could sue. He knows he could sue us, but he just sits there for fun," she finished, looking into the room. Filip and Rey nodded along while I slowly concentrated on the man. His aura was calm and sharp.

I wasn't sure what the psychological profile would be, but in the world of mages, I would at least watch out for him. As for the man himself, he was relatively young, very well dressed, and had a constant smug smile plastered on his face, pissing even me off. And then there was the magic radiating off him.

"Does he know you can't hold him?" Filip asked.

"Yep, but never brought it up." Filip nodded, looking at the man, then turned his eyes to the case file the woman had handed him, with Rey soon joining. As the two law enforcement officers in the group began going through the file, Marvin pulled the woman aside for coffee, telling her that Filip would handle it.

"Accused of kidnapping and killing three to five prostitutes," Filip read aloud.

"All middle-aged, sharing no common features aside from some sort of incurable disease common in their line of work. Motive unknown. No proper evidence. Great." He turned to Josh with a questioning look. To my surprise, the kid didn't look well. He was clearly pissed off.

"I didn't think you would want me to read a person," he barked as the two officers finished.

"You did that before."

"Yes. But to get an overall feel. Now you want me to see what he's thinking. You want me to invade his mind."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what they would ask of us," Filip began.

"Why don't you want to read him?" I cut in, curious about the sudden loss of motivation.

"I—I just don't. I don't like reading people." Josh quickly grew defensive.

"Okay. You do as much as you are comfortable with. I'll go try to break him," Filip said, and then, taking on a professional demeanor, walked toward the interrogation room, putting in a small earpiece so he could hear Josh. I, on the other hand, prepared a weakened version of Mind Spike. I was hesitant about whether to warn them that he was capable of mind magic, but then decided otherwise. I was curious how they would deal with it, if at all. But also, I was curious about the nature of the magic.

He was clearly untrained, as his mind seemed to spill into the surroundings, but the nature of his power was unusual. It contrasted with the man rather than being a part of him. It felt foreign to the person wielding it, a bit like possession or an artifact lodged in the flesh. With the spell prepared, I readied for the show.

"Lesley Crux, twenty-eight years old. Has his own consulting firm, which he inherited from his parents. Both died due to late diagnosis of Hepatitis C, which transformed into liver cancer."

"That's me," the man said in a sing-song voice.

"I wasn't talking to you. It's for my unit's recording," Filip answered in an uninterested tone.

"So," he sat down, not even looking at the man, his eyes still on the file.

"Why do people kill those less fortunate?" Lesley smiled.

"Everyone who comes here accuses me of something I didn't do. And every single one ended up worse for it. Is it—""It wasn't an accusation. I just asked why you think people do that. A conversation starter. Or do those not exist in the world of consulting firms?" he asked. I could see a light twitch in the man's face. I then turned to Josh, who sat there with a sour expression. He wasn't in a trance, but as he met my eyes, he sighed and closed his eyes. I could see his eyeballs move under the eyelids.

"He feels strange," Josh finally whispered, but didn't break his trance.

"I don't know. People have their reasons," the man in the interrogation room answered.

"What do you think could be such reasons?" The man just shrugged.

"I think you have a theory," Filip continued.

"Maybe they were deserving because of their field of work. Maybe they offended the killer somehow. Maybe it was just a sick need fulfilled on the weakest, easiest targets." The man just chuckled.

"Women like that—it's hard to think they were deserving of whatever they had. At least that's what the preacher on the radio says. I just believe his words." Lesley said, spreading his arms as if helpless. I could see Josh shake his head from side to side.

"It's wordplay, I think," the kid said into the microphone.

"You're off, Filip. The women part got a reaction, but you're still off." I was curious about how much effort he was putting in. Was it because of the magic, or was he simply retreating? From what I had read about empaths, he should be able to catch glimpses of others' thoughts. But most of all, did he not sense the man's open mind, beyond "feeling strange"?

"You see, the killings are not what interests me. It's the killer that should be the center of any investigation. The police focus on the victims, and that's how the killer slips through their fingers. And I think you fit our profile just fine."

"Profile doesn't hold up in court, does it?" Lesley spoke, still with the same smile.

"Right, but you have to agree you do fit. The bodies were left to be found. The killer wants to be seen, to be admired. They take pride in their work. I think you want credit."

"You're onto something," Josh said with a frown.

"Credit for what? I'm innocent," the man scoffed.

"You see, that's the issue. I'm not sure what there is to give credit for. For all that gore, I don't see… belief," Filip said after a few seconds of trying to find the right word. Josh winced lightly before speaking.

"You hit a nerve." Even I could sense the change in aura. He was winding up something.

"You think the killer doesn't believe?" Lesley leaned forward.

"Do the FBI just send any moron?"

"It's not that the killer doesn't believe in something. It's just that their belief is weak. I mean, sick prostitutes? Pathetic." Filip now also leaned, mirroring the man's body movement.

"You see, we had another killer just a few days ago. You want to know what he did? He snuck into the highest floor of a guarded building, tortured and murdered two men in their own office, and then disappeared after staging the bodies. Now that is an impressive show. Someone dedicated." I kept listening, almost nodding my head along. Filip's words warmed my heart. It was nice to be recognized by colleagues after all.

"But here? Easy targets. Just women trying to make ends meet. All already sick. Even animals know not to kill sick prey—" Filip was about to say something else, most likely another insult to the killer, but the man cut in.

"You don't know what you're talking about, do you?" he barked.

"The sickness—it's something about disease," Josh began, but then yelped in pain. The man's aura flared as he gritted his teeth. It might have looked like anger, but to me, it was simply forcing some sort of magic into existence. I was ready to fire the Mind Spike right into his mental space, but then saw Josh rip himself out of the trance. I frowned. The man stirred his mental power, sure, and it was unpleasant, but to react like that was surprising. I didn't even have to help.

"I… I can't," Josh said.

"I want fresh air." At those words, Rey moved to push him outside, as the empath had grown slightly pale. I brought my eyes back to the interrogation room, where the man was extending the strange magic to Filip.

"You don't understand shit. But…" the suspect concentrated intensely as Filip looked at him in silence. The next words broke Filip's calm demeanor.

"You understand loss, you understand death. You chase serial killers obsessively. They cost you something, right? You are afraid I would outsmart you, huh? And I wouldn't be the first? Some loss, someone close?" he began spouting one sentence after another. Filip managed to still his face. I watched on, curious, as the power moved strangely. Normal mental energy was like a thread, but this one moved like a tendril of mist, clearly produced by something else.

"Maybe, maybe your parents?" the man said with triumph, but then deflated.

"No."

"Watch it," Filip barked.

"Children? Noooo. Oh, I know!" He clapped his hands.

"Wife?" the man asked with a mocking smile. I fired the Mind Spike right into his head before Filip could move to strike him. The smile disappeared from Lesley's face as he toppled over, grabbing his head at the sudden pain. The strange magic was disrupted immediately with the loss of concentration.

"What is it?" Filip asked, now confused.

"Nothing," the man barked. He didn't look around, nor did he look surprised.

'So he can't tell there was interference in his own mind, nor is the pain unexpected when using his power.' I made mental notes.

"So," Filip continued, the brief moment thankfully having been enough for him to gather his wits.

"My wife has nothing to do with this. And if anyone ever outsmarted me, he wouldn't be someone killing sick prostitutes, I assure you." The man looked at him, now off balance. He tried moving his power once again, but I fired another spell, this one much weaker, enough to cause a sting of pain. He winced again, the seeming inability to perform clearly pissing him off more.

"You don't get it."

"I don't get what? A pathetic killer, unable to go after tougher targets? You know what? You're right. I don't get it. Being weak is one thing, but this—""Weak targets?" the man asked.

"They had what they didn't deserve, weak or not."

"Had what, some dignity? Or some other—""The sickness," he shouted. The answer surprised even me.

"They didn't deserve sickness? Did you try to cure them?"

"They did not deserve a cure either," the man shouted.

"I know whores, oh, I know them well. My father called one once, a moment of weakness, one mistake, and he caught the hepatitis, passing it on to my mother. I watched them wither away."

"So what, revenge on prostitutes? All that bullshit about not deserving to get sick?"

"Yes!" the man roared now, any semblance of self-control gone.

"Disease is the true rebirth. It is a blessing, and had they carried it, they would have been reborn in the new world. I will not share the paradise with the likes of them!" As the man shouted, I could see Rey enter the room without Josh.

"Did I miss something?" he asked, looking at the completely different scene, with the room in disarray.

"Yeah," I replied, not moving my eyes.

"So this was an act of devotion? To not let others be reborn through disease?"

"My parents were blessed, I was blessed, we deserved the blessing of sickness so that we might rise anew. They didn't." He took a breath before speaking, a little calmer.

"This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified thereby." He quoted.

"Sounds biblical," Rey commented from the side.

"It is," I said, frowning lightly.

"John 11: 4. From the story of Lazarus."