Dark Fantasy

[Nicola Christine]

Jelena was sitting at her desk staring blearily at her computer screen. The module handbook was not getting thicker, figuratively speaking. When she had arrived here at Guildford House to take the post of assistant professor in political theory only 2 weeks ago she had not anticipated that she would spend virtually every evening in her office until 11 o'clock. But it had been made clear to her very quickly that, as youngest faculty member, she would be serving on each and every minor committee the university administration threw at the department. As a result she had spent most of her last two weeks dealing with the acquisition forms of the library committee, drafting a new code for the equal opportunity committee and attending teaching committee meetings, as she was expected to take that over in the new year. Additionally, her publisher was inquiring into the state of her book and she had not yet told them that it was still closer to PhD format than book format. To be honest, she could have curled up in a corner and cried. This, however, would have required her to shift various boxes of books and papers, as she had not yet found the time to unpack her boxes and fully move into her office. Instead she decided to return her concentration to her computer screen and the reading list she had to compile and check against existing library stock before tomorrow morning.

Before her eyes could cross from tiredness once again her mind went on alert. A creak, it almost sounded like a moan. This is an old building, she admonished her overactive imagination. They creak! However, when considering that a wander into the hall would get her away from her computer for a few minutes, she jumped up with more energy than she thought she could possibly muster in her current state of exhaustion. Her office, situated under the grand stairway was out of the way and, she suspected, had been a broom closet in a previous life. The advantage was that it lead directly into the entrance hall of the main building. The normally well illuminated, beautifully decorated hall lay dark and deserted. Not even the night lights shed any illumination. That was strange. She groped for the light switch which would light the large chandelier. As the soft yellow light chased away the shadows in the hall she stood frozen and shocked. In the middle of the persian mosaic lay the body of a man. Or she assumed it was a man - as there was no head attached to the body she had to draw that conclusion based on clothing style. And we all know how clothing can be deceptive.

Almost against her will her feet were carrying her closer to the large pool of blood. In a detached part of her mind she was wondering how she knew that the body in front of her had been alive only a short time ago and this all was not an elaborate prank. It would be rational to suspect a prank. This was a university. But she knew it was no prank. Pranks did not come with smells and feelings. And she just knew that in front of her lay a real body - or most of it. Her mind kept ranting at her that she should know this body, she should do something, anything. The only thing she could do was stare at the pool of blood slowly spreading, coming closer and closer to the toes of her feet. Numbly she lifted the phone, pressing, without even dialling, the green button. Not even the voice on the other end could really pull her out of her numbness. "Emergency services - what is your emergency?". She had no idea what she said only thinking that her voice sounded normal, so horribly normal. How could she sound normal, staring at this?

[DarkGoddess]

Tom couldn't help but shiver when he first climbed into his cop car that evening. It was quite cool out, for a September evening. But overall, it was nothing to complain about. The sky was clear, the roads were dry, and if one looked hard enough one could even see a glimmer of the stars that were so hard to spot amidst the light pollution. If he and his partner Keith were lucky, they'd not have much to do that night, besides their usual routes.

So far, at 11:30, all was quiet. But this wasn't the time Tom needed to worry about. It was the later hours, from 2 til 4 that was dangerous. That was when people finally got kicked out of clubs. There were mobs running the streets, thieves with their switchknives, and kids willing to do anything for a fix. But until then, he and Keith could afford to stop at their coffee shop for a drink. That's where he was now, waiting for his partner to come back with their coffees.

Not that Tom minded, though. Worrying wasn't something he did. He would much rather sit back with a drink and spend the night at some bar, watching drama unfold rather than work the midnight shift. But that was what came with the territory as a young police officer. That caused Tom to roll his eyes. It was worse that he had to put up with being treated like a rookie even though he had been doing this for longer than most of the officers could even realize. Not to mention that his other duties often kept him up half the night. But to force himself away from these thoughts, he physically shrugged it off. That was when the radio came to life.

Brady, Jones, come in please.

Tom reached for the radio, speaking quickly to find out what was going on. "This is Brady and Jones, what's up headquaters?" It was probably nothing, a riot, something like that. Something he and Keith could handle without much trouble. Unfortunatley, he turned out to be wrong.

We need you to go to the local university. A woman discovered a decapitated body in the main building. I'm sending along some others, but you'll be first on the scene.

"Sure. We'll be there" Tom replied, then placing the radio back on the holster. He rolled his eyes and smiled, opening the door and going into the coffee shop. "Keith, what's taking you so long?" He asked with a grin. He had just walked in on Keith likely hitting on the barrista. Keith liked the girl that normally worked nights, afterall. "We got a call." He added in a lower voice.

Keith looked over at him, nodding. He smiled once more at the lady then made his way out to the car. "Sorry." He said to the girl with a smile. She just grinned at waved him off. They climbed into the car and drove off to the university. Fortunately it was only a few minutes away. They arrived quickly, first on the scene as they climbed out of the car and walked into the main building. It didn't take any searching to find the body. It was rather conspicuous, the red against the plain beige tiles. Whoever it was, they were dressed in a black pinstripe suit with a blue shirt and tie on underneathe. It looked like the sort of clothes a male would wear. Nearby, a young girl stood stiffly, staring at the body.

"Miss, excuse me?" He walked over to her quickly, blocking the body from her line of view so she would be able to tear her mind away from the sight. "Miss, my name's Tom Brady from the police department. We have it taken care of. Would you like to sit down?"

[Nicola Christine]

Her view of the body was suddenly blocked by a chest covered in dark blue cloth. It still took her a moment to realise that the chest had a head and voice attached. She lifted her head following the direction of the voice and, only then, noted with full realisation that the police was there. Good. She was not responsible anymore.

Her eyes flicked back to the police officer in front of her. Somehow she could not concentrate on him but felt her eyes flicker over the hall, noting such inconsequential details as the broken bulb on the other side and the flier on the stairs, the cleaning crew clearly had forgotten to tidy away. Hold on, he had asked her something. With the next flicker of her eyes to his face she saw the smile filled with pity. That stiffened her spine. She was not an object of pity - no matter how well meaning. Having finished her PhD and landed a tenured position by the age of 24 had taught her that no one should see her well enough to have any feeling for her, especially not pity. The vultures would just tear her to pieces.

What had he asked. Oh yes, sitting down. She raised her head and pushed a long blonde strand of her hair, which had unaccountably come undone, out of her face. "Thank you, Sir. If it is admissible I would like to return to my office for a moment. I assume you would like to take a statement after viewing the..." She could not say body, so she allowed a vague hand gesture to do the job. Without letting him answer she continued: "In this hallway, there are various seminar and conference rooms which might proof useful. I can get the keys."
There, this should destroy any perception of her as a weak willed ninny. She might be an arrogant and cold-hearted bitch, but at least she was good at it.

[DarkGoddess]

When the woman snapped out of her shocked state and started going on as if nothing had happened, Tom had to fight back a grin that threatened to ruin his professional appearance. Nonetheless, the corners of his lips twitched. "We'd just like to take a look around, first of all." He replied. With her head up and looking at him, he could see that they were the same height at 6'1. She was obviously someone who preferred to be taken professionally, judging by the suit she was wearing and her hair pulled back into a bun. Even so, her hair was falling out. Long day at the office. He thought in explanation. Her eyes were large and hazel-coloured. Tom didn't dare glance down to take a look at her body, however. She looked like the type that would slap him across the face for doing so. It had happened to him enough, anyway, for him to have learned not to do so.

"I'm Tom Brady, and this is Keith Jones," He said, gesturing toward his partner. Keith looked up and gave her a quick polite smile before going back to the examination. "If you would mind, could you let me know where your office is, so we could find you later? We would like to take your statement,"

Police code did state that they weren't allowed to let people leave the scene of the crime, but Tom wasn't such a stickler for such rules. If she were in her office, then they knew where she was. Besides, he had some other tools at his disposal that most officers didn't have. Not to mention, one didn't come across a decapitated body every day. But Tom knew what that could mean for the person that had been killed even if none of the others did. If he knew where this woman's office was, then if he discovered what he suspected about the body, he'd know where to go to perform damage control.

[Nicola Christine]

Jelena sat back in her office chair, closing her eyes and for a moment just allowing herself to let her shoulders sag. She was sure she would not have long before the police officer, what had been his name - ah, Tom Brady, would come to take her statement. All her hard-won composure had been shattered when she had recognised the socks the body had been wearing and with that suddenly knew who was laying there. Dr Richard Jestine. When she had met him last week and earlier today again at the lunch for new staff she had him named, in a juvenile moment, Dr Dick. Within the first few minutes he had declared, loudly, that social scientists and those in the arts had no right to call their work research as it was pure conjecture and in itself worthless. With that he had affronted all social scientists in the room - not that this had been many, as besides her there had only been one new hire in law and one in history. The funding cuts had hit there more than in the natural sciences. Dr Dick had then continued in the same vein by making fun of the clothes of one of the teaching fellows, advising one of the other new female lecturers to stay away from the coleslaw as he assumed she wanted to avoid to put even more pounds on her hips and patting the ass of one of the serving staff. Needless to say, Jelena had not warmed to him. Funnily enough it was his colour-coded socks, shirt, handkerchief and, of all things, tie that had stuck in her mind most. Lilac. If you had to wear lilac socks you really did not have to add a lilac shirt and tie. Especially not when your chest was weedy and your arms stick thin. Now the police officer, on the other hand, had neither a weedy chest nor arms lacking in definition.... Oh my God! She was going insane. She had not just thought this about a man she had only met whilst a decapitated body of ONE OF HER COLLEAGUES was slowly bleeding out not two meters from her. And here she had always laughed about these scenes in the romance novels she would never admit to reading in which the heroine in the most inappropriate moments mentally salivated over the hero. She refused to let her mind go there or dwell on a thought that was bound to make her blush beetroot red when he came to taker her statement.

What had Dr. Dick talked about other than being obnoxious? His work, of course. The prestigious, award winning project! The isotopic differences in irons found in the blood of different people. He had planned on linking these with the recuperative powers of cells and predicted that his work would lead to the end of illness, aside from world peace and the solution of world hunger. She had been to annoyed to listen to him more closely. She just remembered that she had thought him to be a biochemist and had been surprised to discover that he actually started out as a geochemist. Mainly she had attempted to be at the other end of the room from his tongue spurting vitriol. She still had not escaped entirely, as her had informed her that he understands that a woman of her height would choose academia as it must be hard to find a man.

Suddenly she froze. Professor Raspin had charged her with sending reminder emails to those new staff who had not yet handed in their module handbooks. It had only been five of them, including Dr. Dick. She had had forgotten about it till late that afternoon. What if he had been working late, like her, to hand in the handbook tomorrow. Would he not have been murdered without being here? There her brain was going off on a tangent again. There was no evidence, no explanation and she should be enough of a scientist to withhold judgement until sufficient data presented itself. She let her head fall back in exhaustion and waited to see what would happen next.

[DarkGoddess]

"So?" Tom asked as he went back to the scene. Keith was snapping pictures of the evidence, but there seemed to be very little marked as such. The pool of blood had seemed to stop spreading and the body had not been disturbed, just as police code taught them. Tom moved around to get a better look at the head. Most people, with such a disturbing sight in front of them, wouldn't be reacting as he did with a mild interest. Not even Keith was acting in that manner. Keith looked a little green, but then again he was only 28 and had only been a cop for 4 years or so. As well, they didn't come across many bodies, especially ones that were missing a head.

To Tom's untrained eyes, the cut would have had to be done with some form of serrated edge, judging from the rough edge. Possibly even a hacksaw. But the other detail was what was making Tom uneasy. The hands, laying slack on the floor only a few feet away from Keith's camera, were beginning to shrivel. With that, Tom's fears were confirmed. Vampire. He thought, immediately going over to Keith. "I'm going to call the police department to let them know what we found." He let Keith know. The guy merely nodded, continuing with his photos.

Meandering out the exit, he pulled out his cell phone. Instead of dialling the police however, he punched in another number. "ABD." A male voice said, and said no more.

"I want to report an MD on a V." Tom replied, glancing around to make sure no one heard. They always spoke in code just in case, but it was still best to make sure.

"I'm sorry sir, I'm not sure what you're saying." That was another safeguard, if someone discovered the number, and heard someone's code, these were the words spoken. But Tom knew the words in reply.

"This is Tom Brady. I am a DT working under the Department of S and C. ID 193175." Never give too much away, that was the key. He was fine with that though. There was a reason happenings like these were covered up by their department. They couldn't let another leak get out like what happened in the southwest 50 years ago.

"...hold on. I'll put you through."

There was a pause, but it lasted only a minute before the person at the other end of the line picked up. "What do you got, Brady?"

"I have a MD on a V down at the university." Tom repeated patiently. There was a sigh that came across the phone. Tom couldn't help but roll his eyes. It was the rules that he reported these occurences, afterall. The only reason he was listening this time was because it wasn't an innocent killed by one of their kind, it was one of their kind killed by...something.

"Okay, well get the information that you can. Make sure it stays a priority at the office to catch whoever did this. When they're caught, let us know. We'll step in and take them. Then, you wipe the records of this case, make nothing seem odd in the recollections. Got it?"

"Got it." Tom replied, flipping the phone shut and reentering the building. The rest of the response team had finally arrived, and a mortician was in the process of packing up the body. Tom smiled as he walked past the others, heading to the woman's office. He stood in the doorway and knocked lightly to signify his arrival. "Hey," He said to the figure in the chair. "You feeling any better? Is the shock wearing off?"

[Nicola Christine]

Jelena had had warning and therefore sat straight in her chair. Her office might not really have a window, but it did have a ventilation slit and conversations in front of that was filtered directly into her office. He had reported the incident to the main police office and was now coming for her statement.
"Officer, please come in. Would you like to take a seat?"

Thirty minutes later she had given her statement and watched Tom Brady write the last few sentences in his notebook. It was now well past midnight and she was more exhausted than she had ever been. She was not entirely sure if she had made sense in her statement, and she had no idea why she felt so impelled to tell the officer about Dr Dick and his work. It was not pertinent. But she seemed to be unable to stop. It was the only good thing she knew about the man. Why would this police officer have any interest in iron isotopes in haemoglobin, or its recuperative powers. Why did it matter now anyway.

"What happens now? What are the chances that you will get the murderer? Do you have any idea why it happened?" Possibly she might assuage her guilt if she knew why.

[DarkGoddess]

When she had finished speaking, Tom quickly jotted down the last few details, and sigh. Iron isotopes in hemoglobin? Heavy stuff, mostly over his head. He had never taken biology in high school, afterall. But he did know it was something to do with blood, and he knew that iron was what carried oxygen in the blood. Had Dr Jestine, as this woman had identified him, been researching the iron isotopes in conjunction with vampirism? Perhaps. Or maybe you're too inept at Biology to be making such assumptions. He told himself.

"What happens now? What are the chances that you will get the murderer? Do you have any idea why it happened?" She asked suddenly, and Tom tore his eyes away from his notes, to look at her in the eyes.

"We'll remove the body, contact his family and get their permission to perform an autopsy. From what we get, the chances are fair that we'll catch whoever did this. But DNA analysis and forensics will take awhile. Don't worry though. Unless there's anything else, I don't think the killer's motive will have them killing others in the university." He answered as best as he could, He wouldn't lie to her about that just because of the circumstances. "However, we do need to locate the head. You said you could get us keys to the offices and such around here? Do you think the university would mind us taking a look?" He paused at that point, trying to recall her name and realizing that he hadn't been told it. "I didn't get your name either. I'm sorry, I'd feel awkward calling you Miss, all the time."

[Nicola Christine]

"Oh sorry, Jelena Grotius." Jelena rose in her chair and proffered her hand. It was nice to be reassured - and she wondered if it said more about her intelligence or her exhaustion that it had never even occurred to her to worry about her own security. Somehow it seemed not likely that any one else would be in danger of decapitation at the university. It surely must be a crime of a lifetime. She assumed this was it. Her involvement with the decapitated body. She could barely get through the polite phrases that passed for a good-bye....

... and had no clear memory how she made it home. Even her next morning breakfast was shrouded in yawns. She really only woke up fully when her phone rang and she was ordered into the dean's office. What now? Ten minutes later she knew. She had been thanked by the Dean for her offer to assist the Police in going through Dr. Dick's office. Not that she could remember having volunteered - but apparently her head of department had informed the Dean of her willingness. Oh, how she hated being the youngest member of staff!!!!!

Fortunately, she had been told that the police would arrive in the late afternoon, possibly even evening, to look through the office. So she might actually get some of her own work done. She assumed someone would inform her when the police arrived

[DarkGoddess]

The girl introduced herself as Jelena Grotius, definitely a name Tom wasn't familiar with. Chances were he wouldn't forget it. From there, she gave him her copy of the keys, and offered to help them while they were searching his office the next day. "Thank you, Jelena. I appreciate it." He replied, smiling. "But I think you should go home for now. You look tired." She nodded and wasted no time leaving.

From there, he and Keith left the body to the professionals and went on a hunt for the head. One by one, they went down each hallway, opening each door and finding nothing. Finally, they had to call it a day. The head wasn't here. If the murderer knew what he had killed, chances were he might have indeed taken the head with him for safekeeping afterall.

Of course, he said nothing like this to his partner who had noticed the shriveling of the man's hands. "Maybe the killer had given him some form of acid or poison. A person wouldn't just start shrinking like that otherwise." Tom replied as they climbed back into the police car. They'd be radioed if they found anything worth noting on the body. But for now, their shift was to continue like normal.

The rest of the night passed rather uneventfully. The only big problem was when they came across a drunken riot around 1:30 outside a bar. They ended up arresting one man who wouldn't give it up. Then at 4:00, they left their police car at the station and went home. "You're helping to search that office tomorrow, right?" Keith asked. "Good luck with that. I'll be sleeping."

Tom laughed. "Lucky you. I'm sure I'll be up by then anyway though. Sleep well."

Tom's own vehicle was nothing compared to the cop car. A 1986 Volkswagon Jetta, it was old and it sucked up gas faster than he had ever thought possible. But it was still running, and he had had it up to nearly 700,000 kilometers. Tom tried to take good care of it, he didn't want to have to spend the money on a new car, afterall. He put the keys in the ignition, twisting it until the whining ceased and the engine started.

The ten minute drive home was quiet. Tom was reflecting on the night past, but what he couldn't get past was the young woman who had been so helpful and surprisingly calm. "Jelena Grotius." He liked the way her name felt on his tongue. She wasn't the prettiest, but her self-confidence was definitely attractive. He grinned as he pulled into the driveway of his apartment building. He checked to make sure his parking permit was on the rearview mirror and climbed out. He was on the third floor of the building, and though there was an elevator, he preferred the stairs. A little exertion in the wee hours of the morning wasn't going to hurt him.

He reached in his pocket for his keys, opening his door and stepping inside. It wasn't very decorated. There was a coffee machine on his counter and an old box of cereal. Tom had been running late for work and hadn't had time to clean up before he left. He ignored the mess, however. Instead he went to his room to get ready for bed. He slipped out of his uniform, but didn't change into pajamas. Instead, he climbed into bed and twisted to turn off the light. It was then that the photo caught his eye.

It was an old picture, black and white. A wedding photo. The groom was the spitting image of Tom, only a few years younger than he was now. The bride was still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. "Still miss you, Beth." He murmured with a subdued smile as he flicked off the light and closed his eyes.

The alarm went off at 12:00 sharp. Tom pushed himself up into a sitting position and hit the alarm to turn it off. Tom wasn't the type to stay in bed all hours of the day, so he climbed out and threw on a pair of sweats. Other than cleaning out Dr. Jestine's office, he had the day off. What better, then, than to wake up with a jog? He put on an old tee and pulled on his sneakers. Two minutes later, he was out stretching his legs, listening to an old handheld FM transmitter.

He was out running for nearly half an hour when he decided to turn around to come back. From there, he had a quick shower and ate a breakfast of cereal. I need to go buy some groceries. He thought. But it was 2:00 and he didn't have the time. Instead, he made a new pot of coffee and spent the rest of his time drinking coffee and reading.

Tom ended up not bothering to change into his uniform. This wasn't a real job of his, therefore there was no reason to actually wear it. Instead, he changed into a pair of jeans and a blue button-up shirt. From there, he went off to the university.

When he arrived, he first went to the Dean's office, where he was greeted and thanked for cleaning up the mess in such a timely manner. Tom waved off the thanks; it was a part of his job and nothing more. He did ask where Dr. Jestine's office was, however. The dean took him over, and added that he'd send someone to help in a couple of minutes. "Thanks." Tom smiled at the man then began to take a look in the office.

[Nicola Christine]

Jelena leaned against the doorjamb, for a moment just watching the police officer. He looked slightly frazzled, good, but frazzled. But then anyone might look frazzled in this room. Dr. Jennings office was in the cellar - but this did not convey the right image. Catacombs might be a better image, if architecturally incorrect. At least she hoped that it was architecturally incorrect. On the other hand, she would not be surprised to find some corpses, and not all eight legged, down here. When the porter had pointed her in this direction she had been surprised. She had thought her office had been bad - and Dr Jennings had been the high profile hire of the year. But the Porter informed her that the location of the office in the cellars had been a condition of employment put in place by Dr. Jennings. To each their own she assumed but had really questioned his sanity when the bark industrial hallways of the normal cellar gave way to the bricked stone walls and arches of the old foundations. The open door leading to the office was, honest to God, brown oak with black iron hinge-joints and fastenings. Stone steps led down to the main room - which was a cavern complete with an old chandelier. She could not decide if this room would look better in Hogwarts or in Frankenstein's castle. However the outer trappings were not the only thing medieval in this place. The centre of the room was dominated by three stone tables arranged in a semi circle which allowed easy access to the researcher. On these microscopes, centrifuges and a wide range of machinery she could not identify could be found interspersed with vials, pipettes and bottles. The right side of the room housed three large machines, one of which Jelena tentatively thought she could identify as a microprobe. Across from her, on the other side of the heavy stone tables, a huge wooden desk was buried under papers and books which overflowed to the floor and any other surface. She thought she could identify a macbook under these somewhere - but she was not sure. On her left a comfortable grouping of red velvet living chairs and even a settee could be found. All around the room large wooden bookcases lined the walls. In all this, sitting on the floor, was Tom Brady. Adorable, frazzled and, strangely enough, not out of place. Either in the Hogwarts or Frankenstein setting.

"I seriously hope you are the chemistry genius of the local PD - because if you need any help with the science we will need to ask someone else. I am a Political Scientist specialising in Courts, not a Chemist." She stepped down the stone steps to the floor and looked around. "I see you have come dressed to disturb the dust - so what do you want me to do?"

[DarkGoddess]

Tom found it hard to believe what he was seeing.

Someone actually had an office like this? It reminded him more of the castle from Dracula, the old one with Bela Lugosi in it. It was all old stone, dark wood, blood-red velvet. How was anyone supposed to perform experiments in this workspace? Wasn't it supposed to be sterile when experiments were performed so it wouldn't be tainted? But it wasn't Tom's problem. What he had to do was to make sure that everything was safe for the others to go through. It would be easier to erase everything if connections were not made.

But where to start? There were bottles and tubes lining every flat surface in the room but the floor. There seemed to be no particular order in his eyes, but the doc probably knew where everything was in its own way. The workspaces seemed to be clean, but the furniture as well as the floor, was covered in a generous layer of dust. Looking around with the light on, Tom could see the track that the vampire must have taken normally. He seemed to go first to his desk, then around the rest of the room judging from the tracks left on the floor.

Next to his desk however, was the one thing that looked out of place in the room. A green spiral notebook that looked like it wasn't given any special care. It must have fallen off the desk, he figured given the way it was sprawled open, cover-up on the ground. Tom frowned and knelt to pick up the book. From there he just shifted into a sitting position.

The studies seem to show that these implanted cells are not rejected in the test mice. However, time will prove to us if the red blood cells do replicate--"I seriously hope you are the chemistry genius of the local PD--" Tom jumped, not realising that she had arrived already. "...because if you need any help with the science we will need to ask someone else. I am a Political Scientist specialising in Courts, not a Chemist."

He stood up and turned to face her, smiling as he put the notebook on the desk behind him. "Actually, I've never taken a science class in my life." He replied honestly. "I'm supposed to bag whatever looks suspicious, drop it off at the lab for analysis. Though..." He gestured to the various test tubes. "I may just bag the entire table there." He finished with a laugh as he looked around for something for her to do.

"Do you want to start on the desk while I get some swabs of the chemicals in the test tubes?" He finally asked.

[Nicola Christine]

" Sure. Just press that button and you will engage the overpressure. Then your samples will not get contaminated. But be careful with the glass walls - they will close around the work benches." Her eyes were already fixed on the desk. She was a researcher after all. "Hold on" She turned "Anything suspicious?" She indicated the room. "You want to get a removal van right away? I can assure you few scientists have offices that resemble the potions room in Hogwarts. Or Frankenstein's laboratory." She let herself fall heavily into the office chair - with only a moment of jealousy regarding its quality. Hers started inhibiting circulation to her lower limbs after latest twenty minutes.

She shifted the pile of papers partly covering the macbook pro and powered it up. Whilst waiting for the internet connection she grasped the first notebook - a lab-book she assumed. She really did not think she would be any help. Yes, her last partner had been a geochemist, aside from being an emotionally manipulating and latent aggressive douche-bag, but she had not listened to him when he had been talking about his work. Well, at least not in the last year. And she had not understood anything of the papers he had made her read in the better times.

She clicked onto the mail icon on the screen and tried to make sense of the writings in her book. An hour later, she was about to throw in the towel. Most of the emails seemed to be in code - or ancient greek - same difference. The notebooks were classic lab-books; incomprehensible to anyone but the author. She looked over at the police officer. He seemed transfixed by his work, annoyingly enough. Alright, she admitted that his complete indifference to her annoyed her. She was just as much a woman as the next person. Grump. It annoyed her even more that she had to concentrate on not looking at him. She was concentrating in her work! For heavens sake! She had foresworn men, or women, or sexual interest in any form, for at least three years! Her new years resolution said so.

She grumpily grabbed for the next book. Another unremarkable moleskin notebook. The first sentence read: "I am a vampire and I may have, after 476 years have found the explanation for our existence. And discovered a means to end it. Once and for all times." She sat up. Clearly the guy was writing a novel. This might actually be fun. "I might be able to brighten our evening. Look what I found. Our Dr had a secret life as a bad fantasy writer. Let me read you the opening sentence..." She grinned at the Police officer. Would it be impolite to call him Tom - yes it would. It would have to be Officer Brady for the moment. She raised her voice theatrically " I am a vampire...."

[DarkGoddess]

Tom was finding it difficult to focus on his work. It was very difficult, the way it was arranged, done in some pattern obviously known only to the man who had arranged them. In despair, Tom had used his phone to snap pictures of the tables so that he could compare the swabs to where they were. Then, he set to work. But as he worked his thoughts continued to veer toward the other one in the room.

Tom didn't know what to think of the girl. She was the most professional person he had ever met. and that sheer efficiency had wiped out every potential conversation starter he could think of. That left him and her in an awkward silence. After twenty minutes, he had allowed himself to glance over at her. Jelena was sitting there, nose buried in a book. Either she actually understood his writing, or her hidden eyes were glazed over from the complexity. Her hair had been back in a ponytail, but some locks of hair had fallen out around her face.

He didn't like the squeeze in his chest when he looked at her. He had learned over the years that the worst-possible thing to do was to involve oneself personally in the case. Especially in the course of a becoming involved with a suspect. Not that he thought of her as a suspect...but she was the one to call it in...and she hadn't seemed particularly put out when they found her...

He supposed it could be possible that she had been the killer, and that she called the police to cover her tracks. She didn't seem perturbed by finding a coworker beheaded on the floor, and she had no problem volunteering to help clean out the office. The more Tom thought of it, the more likely it seemed...

He had to physically shake his head out of that train of thought. He didn't want her to be the killer. She couldn't be. Or was that just Tom's perception of her that urged that notion?

"I might be able to brighten our evening." She suddenly spoke up. Tom turned around, putting a practice polite smile on his face. The uneasy thoughts still plagued him, but he couldn't let her see that.
"Look what I found. Our Dr had a secret life as a bad fantasy writer. Let me read you the opening sentence...I am a vampire...."

Tom didn't know how to react. Obviously he was supposed to laugh and shake it off, but would that look too suspicious? If she knew about one vampire, she'd likely know of others. Of course, she could write him off as the one bumbling police officer but if she were to do that, the act had to look authentic. So he forced out a laugh and shook his head. "A vampire, huh? The guy's playing into all this tween book nonsense? Dusklight or Twilight or whatever." He shook his head and rolled his eyes, still forcing a smile. "Give me a good old Dracula book or movie and I'm happy. What does he say next?"

At least it would help him if he knew what she knew, were he to interrogate her.

[Nicola Christine]

Jelena noted the sudden tension in the back of her mind but was far too engaged in the book before her to really pay attention to him. Whilst leafing further through the book she mumbled: "Don't knock what you do not know. I admit the twilight characters are selfish pricks but there is some quite fun fantasy out there. Besides it is only make-believe, only a fairy tale. I like fairy tales" She threw him a quick smile before continuing.

"I am not sure if this actually is a book attempt. It seems to contain too many formulae, which seems a bit optimistic if it is supposed to reach the broad public. Give me half an hour and I report back - I promise to read out pertinent sections on the wa..." A loud crash in the stone hallway outside made her stop mid-sentence. Theoretically there was nothing in that hallway that should crash.

[DarkGoddess]

Tom couldn't help but roll his eyes and grin when he heard her talking about the books like she had read them. Actually, she may have. She wasn't that old afterall. That thought though, just made him feel older. Fairy tails weren't modern tales like she was talking about. Fairy tales were the original Brothers Grimm. Not even Tom had experienced those.

He turned back around to go back to work when he caught a glimpse of something in the doorway, just a flash of light, like a lamp reflecting off a mirror. Meanwhile, Jelena was saying something about keeping him up-to-date about the book, but she was cut off when the glint of light vanished and a crash sounded outside the room. Tom looked at her, but wasted no time to leave his work area and make for the doorway.

By the time he got there, there was no one to be seen. Confused, he stepped out into the hallway, treating himself to a crunching noise under his right shoe. Moving it, back, he saw a plastic frame on the floor, as well as a shattered mirror. Kneeling, he picked up one of the pieces. There was no use running after whoever had been there now. But he might be able to get some fingerprints or something off the mirror pieces.

[Nicola Christine]

One moment she shared a smile with Tom, the next he had sprung across the room. The man could move. The crash in the hallway and the running steps indicated that there had been someone else in the hallway. Most likely a member of the cleaning crew scared into flight by Tom coming at them. Across the room Tom had bent down to investigate something on the floor. Whilst he was occupied with plastic bags and tweezers she took out her ipad and opened a new document. She might not understand what her purpose was at this place but she might as well make a thorough job of "helping the police". The book she had been looking at seemed to be, on first perusal, a mixture of passages in English, formula and passages in other languages, three of which she recognised as French, Italian and Latin. She could read the first two without problem normally but had problems with the seemingly archaic format in this book. She would have to spend some more time on that. Of what she could make out it appeared that interspersed among the formula was a fictional story written in an epistolary, diary format. The formula seemed to be a strange combination of modern chemistry and signs she had last seen when visiting a museum of alchemy in Kutna Hora. She had ended up there whilst escaping a conference in Prague and remembered it with equal parts horror and fascination. What it left her with was a whole lot of bafflement. What was this? An attempt at a historical paranormal fantasy novel? Somehow, this did not sound true. Slowly she transcribed some of the first and last formulae to show them to a biochemist before making some attempts at translating a selection of the latin texts. Vaguely she registered Tom's movements around the room.

An hour later she was intrigued and frustrated. It was hard to make any sense of what she was reading as many sections were a jumble of languages. As a result she had in her transcription partial sentences, followed by highlighted sections of incomprehensibility. There was something about punishment by God, an illness or genetic flaw which needed to be eradicated. Various "humours" and the susceptibility of some people to "dark" humours. It was confusing and the only thing she could figure out was that somehow women seemed to be more susceptible to these humours than men. There was a whole table. If this was a book then it would rival the "Pillars of the Earth" in complication and not be readable by a feminist - she reckoned. She could not figure out the part about the "illness" or "defect". It was always followed by a random symbol. What was this? And why did this look so familiar? She was almost sure she had recently see.... yes! When she was looking up the history of the Hungarian constitution last week she had come across that random book. Quickly she put her ipad to sleep and dropped the book on the table. It would have been useful to be able to take it with her to the library but she doubted Tom would let her take it. Evidence and so on.

"I need to check something in the library. I will be back in a minute." With a smile she hurried out the door and down the hallway. When she entered the more modern part of the hallway she became aware of the silence in the building. Non withstanding the neon lights it felt empty and vaguely threatening - as most buildings did after the day's work has finished. A glance to her watch told her that she had completely forgotten the time and that it was long past 11. With a sigh she realised that she might very well spend a night in her office - again. She dragged her keyring with the library key out of her pocket as she reached the stairs to the Ground floor. Suddenly her head was yanked back ferociously and she lost her balance tethering on the second step. She screamed as she fell backwards, a burning pain raking across her abdomen. As she fell she saw a man standing just besides the stairs. He was clothed all in black. Her mind registered his absolute comeliness just as the back of her head met the hard stone floor. For a moment she could not breathe and her world went black. As he opened her eyes the man was kneeling above her cruelly holding her chin, stretching he throat against the knife he held in his hand.
"Scream!" He whispered. She stared at him uncomprehending. He moved the knife from her throat to her shoulder and sliced it with a long cut. She screamed. The knife returned to her throat and he whispered again: "Scream! Scream louder!" She did. And as she did so she realised that the most frightening thing was the absolute emptiness in his eyes. She thought she heard footsteps. But at the same moment he pulled her head back up and smashed it into the floor. She did not loose consciousness, but for another moment her world went dark. When her eyes cleared he was gone.

[DarkGoddess]

Tom remained there a few seconds before going to bag it. Following that, he went back to his bagging. He pondered for a moment, whether or not to tell her about what he had seen before whoever had run away. But so far, there was no reason behind his suspicions. If she was involved in this the way Tom suspected, then she'd not be in danger. If she wasn't involved, well there was no reason for her to be attacked. They were going to be there for awhile, and he was sure he could come up with a reason to escort her home if worst came to worst.

Of course his reasoning didn't take her thoughts into play, as was quickly made obvious when she said, "I need to check something in the library. I will be right back." Before Tom could even think of something to reply with she was gone, leaving Tom to his own devices. She had left the book on the desk as well. There's someone out there. You shouldn't be on your own. he thought, but her footsteps had already faded away. He sighed and decided to look through the book, as well as keeping an ear out for her return.

The first part was simple. English, talking about having possibly finding a cure for vampirism. That was news for Tom. As far as he had understood the biology, there was a disorder in a vampire's body, a blood-bourne disease that stopped new blood from being formed. As a result, they had to take blood from others. Had this Dr. Jestine actually come up with a cure? Would this have to do with the murder? Maybe...but who would want to stop Vampires from taking blood from humans?

An earsplitting shriek tore his thoughts away from this revelation. That sounded like Jelena! Another scream, and he took off, trying to reach the source of her cries. But as it seemed he got closer, there was a loud, sickening crack then silence "Jelena!" He yelled, more than a little worried. But with no responses to his calls, it took him nearly ten minutes to find her sprawled on a set of stairs. "Jelena!" He didn't quite yell it that time, but he did sit beside her and help her into a sitting position. "You all right?" He asked softly. He'd have to take her to the ER, judging from the mess he could now see on the back of her head.

[Nicola Christine]

Everything hurt. She felt Tom besides her as she tried to draw herself up into a sitting position. He tried to help her and even though his hands were gentle, she cringed. Damn! Too many memories leaving a bad taste in her mouth. Well, that might actually be the blood. "He made me scream." A quick look at her abdomen showed her that the cut there was a mere scratch, however, the near uselessness of her left arm and the still running blood indicated the wound of her shoulder to be more serious. Her head? Any noise made her head spin and her eyes watered from the neon lights. Her fingers met matted hair when she touched the back of her head and it took all her attention not to throw up. However, experience gained from living three years with her ex had taught her that her head was not as bad as it appeared.
"Why did he make me scream? Why did he tell me to scream? Why did he run?" It seemed essential to her addled mind just then. She tried to pin Tom with her eyes - and shut them again with a moan. Alright, glares were out till further notice.

[DarkGoddess]

She was clearly in bad shape, but the questions she was asking seemed strange to him as well. It was probably because she was dazed that she was asking after it in such a dogged way though. Tom closed his eyes and used his free hand to run it over his hair. He ran because he didn't want to be caught. He thought, his mind trying to explain it away. But it didn't add up...

the book! Tom cast a quick glance at Jelena, who was clearly in no shape to run. But he didn't want to leave her their either, after just being attacked like that. "All right." He muttered to himself. If this man wanted the book, well he was probably going to get it with this plan of action. But the tough decision was made. "Can you stand? Can you move? We need to get to Dr. Jestine's room to gather the evidence collected," he saw no reason to mention the book just yet, "then I'm going to get you to a hospital."

Tom just hoped she could stand. If not, he'd have to get her to his car, then turn around and get the stuff in the office after that. But he wished he had the police car with him. There were photos in his car he didn't want seen by just anyone. But there was no time to worry about that. He turned his mind back to the matter, and waited for a reply.

[Nicola Christine]

Jelena leant precariously against the wall in her attempt to get her feet under her. With her fingers in the cracks of the bricks and, admittedly, Tom's help she pulled herself up. For a moment she thought she would not be able to keep her balance. Her vision greyed out again and she had to lean her head against the wall. The cool feeling of the bricks against her face was heaven and slowly allowed her to take stock. She would make it to the office. This was not the first time she was barely able to stand. And truly she preferred not to go to the ER, if she could just convince Tom of that. She knew she did not have a concussion, her vision was too clear for that. At the ER she would just face another round of careful questions and pitying looks. No matter that she had not been there for years now, she doubted the nurses had forgotten her and her perpetual "falls" and "accidents". She straightened her spine and pushed of the wall almost angrily. Her steps towards the office might not have been elegant and her spine was hunched over but she was moving, slowly.

"Go ahead. I will follow you." She told Tom, her had firmly pressed against the hallway wall for balance.

[DarkGoddess]

"Go ahead. I will follow you." She said, determined it seemed to go on her own. Despite her orders though, Tom stayed beside her as they walked slowly toward the office. He wasn't going to go ahead of her, in case she stumbled. Clearly, she was off-balance and Tom shouldn't have even let her try this on her own.

Nevertheless, she got there without stumbling or tipping over. Tom was the first to get to the doorway however. What he saw, he didn't like.

The room was ripped apart. Chemicals were laying haphazardly across the counters and in the protected room. Papers were strewn everywhere, books laying open on the floor. Of course, the first thing Tom did was to go and look to see if his evidence was still bagged. He had left the bags on the desk that was torn apart, but they seemed to be intact. He let out a sigh of relief and while he was at the desk, he also checked for the book.

He went around the room, searching under the papers, amongst the chemicals, everywhere. But there was nothing. "He took the book you'd been reading." He finally told her. There was no harm in letting her know that. She seemed to be a levelheaded girl. Jelena may have suffered a blow to the head but her personality had seemed to remain the same. "But the evidence is here and my camera," he held up an old disposable camera from what must have been the late 90s, "has photos of the layout. We should be fine still. Let's get you to the ER."

[Nicola Christine]

"No!" She tried to keep her voice steady and decisive, whilst leaning heavily on the back of the chair. "I have the basics needed in my flat and can consult my doctor tomorrow. It is truly not as bad as it appears. Even the would on my should has almost stopped bleeding. However, I would be glad about a ride to my apartment." There that should do it. She had made clear that she did not want to go to the ER and even asked for help. Progress. She wondered if the psychologist she had seen for a few times after her life fell apart would agree with that. She had stopped going for more appointments when he could not get over the talk about "trust issues". From where she stood trust was stupid and trusting in another human and relying on them even more so.

She levelled herself out of her seat and spotted her ipad. Slipping it into her bag took a surprising amount of effort. She was ready to go. She could see that Tom was uncomfortable about her edict not to go to the ER. But as any modern, polite human being he would just go along with it - in her charitable times she thought that humans only fought so hard NOT to see what was below the surface in others because of political correctness, in her more realistic times she was aware of it being a direct result of not wanting to be bothered with others. However, she had made a science out of giving others a convenient way out and leaving her alone. Tom might be bothered about her refusal - but in the end her would be happy and leave her at her flat, as long as she did not force him to recognise her weakness. She then could sort herself out in peace. She turned and carefully headed for the door.

[DarkGoddess]

Tom sighed and shook his head. If Jelena wasn't going to go willingly to the ER, for whatever her reason, he wouldn't take her. But he wasn't comfortable with just leaving her alone like that. Not if he didn't know she'd be all right. But he let her be. If she didn't want to talk about her problems with the ER, he wouldn't force her. He helped her to his car, all too aware of the cheap pine scent the air freshener gave off, and the 3 paper cups of coffee that he hadn't gotten time to throw out just yet. But Jelena didn't look like she was going to notice much, so he didn't bother mentioning anything. "Where do you need me to take you?" was all he asked. When she told him, he took off in that direction, doing his best to keep the ride smooth and relatively painless. It was difficult to do so, however. The car had little to no shocks, and every little bump sent a tremor through the car.

Finally, he got to the address he'd been given. "We're here." He said to her, and helped her up to her entrance. She looked like she was going to head in, but Tom ended up blurting out one last sentence. "At least let me help you clean the wounds." He said. Her left arm was still useless, it seemed. It would be tough to fix herself up with just one hand.

[Nicola Christine]

Her legs were about to give out and she doubted that she would have made it up the narrow stairs to her flat without Tom's help. Normally she loved her little private entrance, the rusted metal stairs which had started its life as an emergency fire exit. Today, however, she could barely make it up the winding staircase snaking its way up to the attic of the old mansion. She was vaguely aware of Tom's presence besides her and rationally knew that the the comfortable dark hum she heard over the rushing in her ears was him speaking but her brain refused to compute. Her only goal was her kitchen, water and pain killers. After that she would be able to deal with the world again - she hoped....

Her next clear, or as clear as it got, thought found her sitting in her kitchen holding an ice-pad to her head with her good hand whilst Tom bent over her other shoulder treating the cut. The amount of dirty dressings from the first aid kit, to which she must have directed him, indicated that she had been on autopilot for a while. Her fuzzy mind got stuck on this. How had he found the kit? More importantly: WHAT ELSE HAD HE SEEN IN HER FLAT!!! She mentally catalogued her inner sanctum. The entrance way with the hooks for jackets and the wooden chest and its barely one square meter floor space was innocuous enough. The next room they must have traversed was her living/cum dining room. Thoughts of the disorder she must have left there in her morning hurry made her cringe. With its slanted eaves and furnishings in dark red colours the room was normally the showpiece of the apartment. When she had moved in here she had not had any money at all, and no furnishings, and most of the pieces had been scavenged or restored by her. She loved the room almost as much as her study. HER STUDY! Off the bedroom there was no reason why he would have made it into room but the thought frightened her. It was the only room in which she did not pretend to be someone else. The only room in which her secrets could be discovered. What if he had found the letters, the receipts..... - but then why should he have. Moreover, her would not be sitting there taking care of her wounds so calmly. The first aid kit had been in the bathroom, in the cupboard - and the only thing he might have seen there was the abundance of prescription medicine she had left over from past injuries. He might think her a drug addict, possibly a wimp - but that was all. She let out a long breath and tried to clear her thoughts.

She saw her bag on the chair across the table with her ipad protruding from it. Her first thought was: "Good, we have not lost all of the book. We still have my notes". Then another thought followed that one. "Why are we here? Why did he not call his colleagues? Something is seriously wrong here?" She stiffened and asked: "Why did you not call your colleagues? What are you hiding?"

[DarkGoddess]

He recieved the information he needed to find her first aid kit, and went off to hunt. Tom first went down the main hallway, only to find it on the first door to his left. The bathroom was a mess, as was the rest of the house. Discarded pill wrappers and bottles laid all over the place. Tom couldn't help but stop and stare at first. Was this girl an addict? If she was, she was new to it. Before her life would fall apart. But he didn't want to be too rash about this judgements upon her. She seemed like she had it hard in life, so he didn't want to immediately make a judgement without getting all the facts straight first. Instead, he hunted around the room until he came up with a plastic white box with a red cross painted on the top of it.

He retrieved the box without remark, and took it out to the kitchen. There, he removed the bandages, the antiseptic and the butterfly bandaids. Hopefully those three things would be enough to cut the bleeding until the morning for her. She seemed to be out of it, so he didn't offer her anything for the pain. Instead, he sprayed the antiseptic onto her cut, dabbing at it with a cotton swab. When the worst of it seemed to be cleaned out, he used another swab to dry off the area. Next, he applied butterfly bandages, quite a few of them to ensure that the cut wouldn't be split further. He wrapped the bandage around and as he did, Jelena seemed to snap out of her stupor.

"Good, we have not lost all of the book. We still have my notes" She said, gesturing toward her little half-laptop thing. Half a second later, she added in a panic, "Why did you not call your colleagues? What are you hiding?"

Tom grinned suddenly, his smile lighting up his face. "If I called the other police here, you'd be in the ambulance before you knew it. I thought you didn't want to go to the hospital." He replied, but inside he felt uneasy. She immediately jumped to, what are you hiding? He was hiding a lot. But there was no reason to tell it all to her. Once this case was closed, he'd do his duties as per his...underlying tasks, and be on his way. Hopefully she wouldn't interfere too much. He liked her a lot, and he didn't want to wipe her entirely like he had done to people before.

"What did you get from the book before the...interruption?" He asked, changing the subject quickly so she wouldn't press him further.

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