Chương 12: Chapter 11: The Detective and the Boy

In the living room, Jaime sipped from his cup of black coffee, brewed from the dried-up feces of a harpy. He had been told it was better than anything he had ever tasted. But as he gulped down the black, nearly tar-like liquid, he tasted nothing. He felt it flowing into his veins and to his heart, unleashing a slight quaking throughout his body, just barely enough to keep him going.

Cynthia was cooking lunch in the kitchen, and though the smell of spices and meat in the air made his stomach rumble, he knew it was all going to taste the same in the end. He kept watch on an open book on the table as he quickly drank the rest of the coffee. Just as he lowered his cup, words written in red ink suddenly appeared on the whitened pages. The book was linked to Alice's journal. Every word she wrote would appear here at the same moment, regardless of distance.

"So quickly. It hasn't even been a full day," Jaime muttered. It told of Alice's morning in the Cathedral. She had class, Mass, and lunch, but Jaime was focused on something else entirely. Names. There was a Marley, there was a Jack, and there was an Evelyn. The two boys were described briefly, hardly enough to be useful. But Alice wrote down a vivid image of this so-called Evelyn, with bright red hair, amber eyes, and warm hands. It was almost in an endearing, admiring manner.

What was more, her family name and residence were also listed. Jaime stood up and went over to the kitchen. Cynthia was wearing a thick apron and cooking a fillet on the stove, alongside a few herbs and vegetables.

"I'm going outside," Jaime said.

"Is this about Alice?" Cynthia continued cooking, not bothering to look back.

"In a way."

"I see. Be careful out there, Jaime."

"You know I always am." Jaime returned to the living room and donned his coat hanging by the wall before walking out of the front door and stepping onto the snow-laden streets of the city. He walked down the sidewalk, leaving no footprints in the deep snow. When he reached the end of the block, he glanced at his watch and waited. Any moment now. A black carriage drawn by a pair of undead horses emerged from down the road and pulled over right in front of him.

The coach was a large pale man who greeted Jaime with a rotting grin. Jaime climbed into the carriage and said, "Lovel Hertford, Eighth Avenue." Without saying a word, the man gripped the reins. The stallions galloped in silence, pulling the carriage through the streets of the city. Before long they crossed the bridge and entered the central district. They spent little time in the bustling center and quickly took a turn over another bridge down south, leading into Lovel. Tall brick houses stood high, yet unpainted.

Clotheslines were drawn over the streets, and a heavy smell of sewage, piss, and shit lingered in the air. The road thinned the deeper they went. Tattered figures toiled by the alleys, some deathly still.

"Stop here," Jaime said. The stallions slowed to a halt in front of a modest two-story brick building. A sign hung by the front door that said Micheal's Investigations. Jaime paid the fare and climbed out of the carriage without making a sound. As Jaime approached the building, the carriage drove off into the distance, disappearing down some distant road. He pushed open the front door, ringing a small bell. A loud voice echoed from an open doorway to the right.

"I'm out of beer. Get me four more bottles from Hadwell's, boy." Another voice, that of a boy, replied, "Bloody drunkard."

"Hurry up. Looks like we have a customer." If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. A young boy, no more than the age of fifteen, emerged from the open door. His eyes were an impeccably clear bright blue, like a pair of frozen lakes. His hair was light brown, and he wore simple trousers, a white shirt, and a dark coat.

"The detective is right down there, sir." He pointed at the open door before quickly squeezing past Jaime. Jaime looked back at the boy for a moment and quickly shook his head. He placed his hands in his pockets and made his way through the open doorway. A half-breed with light olive skin sat behind a wooden desk, leaning against the cushions of a velvet seat with both his palms resting on his lap. He had long black hair that went down in waves to his shoulders and a clean-shaven face.

His eyes were brown, and as he smiled he revealed his slightly yellowed teeth.

"Welcome to Micheal's Investigations. Pleasure to meet you." Micheal extended his left hand. Jaime shook Micheal's hand.

"Likewise. The name's Jaime Valentine."

"Sir Valentine. Take a seat," Micheal said. Jaime sat down on the pale cushioned chair before the desk. He caught the stench of alcohol in the air and spotted a faint orange smudge staining the sides of the wooden table.

"Do you always drink on the job, Investigator?" Jaime raised his brows. Micheal chortled and rubbed his belly.

"You know how it is with people like us. There are only so many things that can keep us going, keep us awake. I'm hardly even drunk."

"Oh? How did you know I was a demihuman?" Jaime said.

"Given a man your size, the floorboards should have creaked when you walked over here. That either means you're floating, or you can silence sound," Micheal said. Jaime nodded.

"It seems I went to the right place."

"That's what I like to hear. So, how can I help you, Sir Valentine?" Micheal leaned forward, perching his chin on his palm like an eagle.

"I want to find a family in West Wall," Jaime said.

"Go on," Micheal urged.

"The Baruchs. They have a daughter named Evelyn Baruch. She's an eighth-generation demihuman of the Ghost Bloodline."

"What does their daughter look like?"

"Red hair. Pale skin, with freckles on her face. She's a teenager." Micheal furrowed his brows.

"I see… that's quite a request. Why do you want to find her family, Sir Valentine?"

"I don't have any ill intentions." Jaime let out a soft chuckle.

"In fact, it's the opposite. Have you heard of the Awakenings in the city?"

"Aye, I have. Bunch of children started seeing the dead. Ungodly thing."

"My daughter was one of the awakened, and so is Evelyn Baruch. I want you to investigate her family so I can find out more about the Awakenings." Micheal's expression softened, and he sighed.

"The Church ain't telling you squat?"

"No, they aren't."

"Bastards always keep to themselves." Micheal looked around his cramped office.

"That's why you came to me, and not some large company. Look, meddling with Church affairs is a risky thing. One wrong move and I'll have Inquisitors breaking into my office. I'll… consider it, but you know how it is." He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, asking for money.

"I need a lot." Jaime grabbed his wallet and pulled out twelve ten-Leon bills.

"I'll need more than that."

"This is just the down payment. Tell me what I want, and I will give you two hundred more."

"How can I be sure you won't run off when I'm done?"

"I have more families for you to investigate if you're willing. This isn't just a one-time offer, Micheal. Think of this as a long partnership, with an even longer line of Leons waiting for you at the end."

"I admit, that does sound appealing," Micheal said.

"I just want to figure out what's going on with my daughter. Would you do this for me?" Micheal let out a sigh.

"Hopefully I don't regret this. Alright, I'll take it." He grabbed the bills from Jaime's hand and tucked them underneath a notebook.

"You're a good man, Micheal."

"I'm really not." Micheal clicked his tongue.

"With what you've given me, it'll take me at most a week, and at least three days, to find that family."

"That is acceptable." Then he reached into an open drawer and pulled out a small parchment slip with a crude triangular rune written on it.

"When I'm done, this piece of paper will burn up, and you can come back here." Jaime grabbed the paper slip.

"You made this?"

"It's nothing much. Just a simple calling rune."

"That's still quite admirable." Jaime placed the slip in his breast pocket and sprang to his feet.

"I hope this will be a long and lucrative partnership, Micheal. I'll be taking my leave."

"Don't lose the slip, Sir Valentine. I don't give replacements."

"I won't." Jaime turned around and stepped out of the room. The blue-eyed boy stood by the corridor and stared as Jaime walked past. Jaime looked back at the boy for a moment before opening the front door and stepping into the snow-covered streets of Lovel.