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There was blood staining the snow. Judging by the spatter, the attacker had hit the victim hard. Kindred hard. The disturbed snow showed signs of a scuffle, though the drag marks indicated it was pretty one sided affair. The scent and broken sign told him that the victim was Shelby.
The dread that'd been percolating in his dead chest all night grew another three sizes.
One step after another, he followed the scrapes in the snow. Carefully through the disturbed slush, the smell of blood growing ever stronger.
He knew what he was going to find.
Shelby's twisted body was shoved behind the dumpster, head hanging at an awkward angle, neck snapped. Far less blood in her than there should be.
Murdered only for the crime of knowing him. Fabien felt sick.
And that was the only motive he could fathom at this point.
What had started as mild annoyance quickly morphed into rising concern. Now, one or two of his contacts missing from their spots, sure! Not unusual. They had their own lives, it was hardly reasonable to expect them to hang around at all hours like particularly personable vending machines.
But there had been signs of trouble. Nothing as…explicit as this, but worrying enough to put him on the hunt for the rest of them.
Now he was certain. Someone was targeting his people. Someone vindictive enough to target innocent humans which, despite Kindred's general attitudes towards the Kine, did realistically narrow the search radius to two possible suspects.
Two suspects at the centre of what could be the two most important cases of his career.
Lou Graham and the mysterious Sabbat Leader.
Not them literally, of course. Neither of them ever seem to do their own dirty work. But whichever one it was, they had their minion on the hunt. He had to get ahead of this.
He scented the air again. The blood wasn't the freshest, congealed and starting to freeze. Damp and time had faded any distinguishing trace of the perp's signature smell. Phyre would likely be able to pick up the trail, but his Sheriff was off being Sheriff-y elsewhere.
Thankfully, Fabien didn't need to go where the killer was. He needed to go where the killer wasn't. Or rather, where they hadn't been yet.
If they had started their spree around this area…then hit Marigold by Atrium…then he needed to book it in the opposite direction.
And so he did, feet pounding the pavement, coat flapping in the wind, and a hand securing his newly liberated hat to his head. When these cases were closed he was gonna beg Phyre on bended knee to try teach him some celerity, he promised himself as he skidded through snow slick streets.
Reggie and Guru were this side of town, and so was Mr Lemon. But he was probably the safest by a long shot, locked up in the tank like that.
Fabien turned the corner onto Pioneer Square. Reggie first, he should be just around…
Damn! He slipped to a stop at the mouth of the alley. Nothing.
But, under closer inspection, perhaps not a necessarily bad Nothing. Reggie wasn't there, but there was no sign of a struggle either. In fact…yes! A trail, faint but the detective was familiar enough with the drifter's scent to just about follow it.
It didn't take him long at all to realise where Reggie had gone. Had Reggie known Dale? No matter how or why he'd chosen this spot to hole up in, Fabien doubted he knew that a bear had moved in for the winter.
Kicking aside the scrap of police tape, the detective slowly cracked the door. There was a clatter from within. Opening it fully, he felt some of the tension unravel from his undead muscles at the sight. Reggie, safe and relatively sound, looking like a deer in headlights by the far wall.
Fabien crossed the room. Thank god the bear wasn't home, or likely all he'd've found was a bloody smear. He didn't get the impression Phyre tolerated unexpected house guests.
'Detective! Uh- I am glad you are here. I- I did as you said, to come here if there was trouble…'
Fabien blinked. 'Right! Yes, I do remember saying that.' He did not remember saying that, but that didn't exactly mean much. 'And might I say, boy am I glad to see you. Are you alright?'
'Yes, I- yes but the others…gone, dead! I was- Guru, he said you left insurance…against Lou Graham.'
'Insurance-' Insurance against Lou Graham? What- When had he- Fabien made a strangled noise of frustration. His memory had more holes in it than Swiss cheese. 'Did he say anything else? Any other details of-'
'Fabien.'
The detective startled, and Reggie practically jumped out of his skin. Looming in the doorway, as if he had appeared straight out of thin air, was the Nomad.
'Phyre! Oh boy, I'm glad you're here. Sorry for the intrusion- apparently I've had this spot labelled "Safe" in the old grey matter for a while… er- ahem.' He was rambling. The Elder's slit pupils were reflecting the light like a cat, and they had an intense look in them that was making him a mite nervous.
'Reggie, meet Phyre. Phyre, this is Reggie one of my, um, helpers. If you catch my drift.'
Phyre furrowed his brow, his posture relaxing a touch. Much to the relief of the other two men. 'He is one of yours?' His mouth pressed into a displeased line. 'I was not made aware of this.'
Fabien's eyes widened. 'Not made- wait.' Is he… 'Are you saying that someone put you on his tail?'
'This is the man Onda has directed me to remove.'
'What? Why?'
Reggie tensed like he was about to make a break for it, but Fabien grabbed his arm. Gently, mind you. Running in front of a hunting predator was not the best idea.
His friend was trembling under his grip, gaze locked onto the Nomad's approaching form.
'You- are here to kill me?' Reggie's voice cracked, and the detective squeezed his arm in what was hopefully a reassuring way.
'Phyre, I'd- rather you didn't. It's Lou, she's cleaning house! First with me and the damned Underground, now she's going after anyone I could've told anything. Phyre please.'
The Nomad was silent for a few, long seconds…before tilting his head and stepping aside. 'Run Reggie. Take a coach. Find a different city. Do not come back.'
Reggie nodded furiously and Fabien huffed a sigh of relief. Not that he seriously thought Phyre would kill him but…well, his Sheriff was certainly an intimidating lick.
'Go on Reggie, sunrise isn't too far off, you'll make it.' The detective released his arm and stepped back a touch. 'And…I'm sorry. For what it's worth.'
'Yes- I will go, thank you!'
Fabien sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose as Reggie's frantic footsteps faded. What a mess. Fabien felt a little bad that this uninvited jambaroo happened in Phyre's living room. It really felt like he had a blast radius these nights…
'Lou has been hunting your people?' Phyre had turned back to him, eyes narrowed in displeasure.
'Uh- Yes. It seems so.' And that certainly wasn't good by any stretch of the imagination, but…Well. He felt that knot loosen, the one that wrapped tight around a question, and did not let go until it was answered. Case Solved. If Onda was conducting this, then Lou was the orchestrator. It was Lou hunting- killing his people from atop her ivory tower.
Anger flared.
He- he oughta march straight into that tacky hotel of hers and- and- he wasn't sure what, but he needed to do something. She knew that the cage was closing. That after a hundred years her crimes were threatening to come to light. So here she was! In classic Lou Graham fashion, silencing every dissenter and loose end with the grace of a rampaging hippopotamus.
The ball of sad, helpless anger twisted. If he was mortal his breath would've been coming short and sharp. He'd put a century of unlife into the service of the Masquerade, of her court. He was ancilla for crying out loud, and what had it gotten him? Nothing, for nothing is what got past Lou Graham's stranglehold on his city, and, oho well, if you were in the outs with Lou-
Cool hands gently cupped the sides of his face, snapping him back to the present moment. 'Fabien, take a breath.' Dark eyes bored into his as he complied, the motion successfully grounding him a bit more firmly in his bones.
'Phyre, she-'
'I know' Phyre's own eyes blazed with a fury inferno. The detective relaxed into his hold, it warming something in him to know such a thing was on his behalf.
'Know this, Fabien. I will not stand for her actions. What she has done to you, to your city. Please, do not concern yourself with her any longer.'
Hoo boy. That was fightin' talk, alright. Positively treasonous if the right, or wrong, people were listening.
'Easy Phyre, I mean- I appreciate this, I do. But don't go getting yourself into a trouble hole you can't climb out of. Not for me.'
Phyre's thumbs smoothed circles into his cheekbones. 'I think I will decide which holes are worth my trouble.'
Fabien almost choked. Phrasing Phyre, Jesus…
'Ah- um…E- Even so. You can't just walk up to the Glacier and rip her head of, as much as I wish you could. You'd get a blood hunt called on you like that, Elder or not.'
'As I said. Do not worry yourself about her.' His lips twitched slightly, Fabien just managing to catch the blink-and-you'll-miss-it smirk that threatened to appear.
He knew that look. 'You're…planning something, aren't you? Tell me, I-'
'No.' Phyre slid his hands down to the detective's neck and shoulders. 'Fabien…trust me? Please, stay away from Lou Graham.'
Fabien searched his eyes, but they held nothing but concern and the still smouldering embers of empathetic indignation. The detective deflated.
'Ok. Alright.' Phyre stepped back as he briefly removed his hat to run a stressed hand through his hair. 'Thank you, by the way. For Reggie. I owe you, Nomad.'
The Nomad turned, graciously gesturing that Fabien should be first out the door. 'I must return to Onda, but I will meet you at the cafe early tomorrow.' He shot him a small smile. 'Stay out of trouble, detective.'
'No promises.' He tipped the brim of his hat. 'I'll see you then.'
The two vampires parted on the street, Fabien watching the Elder disappear into the swirling snow.
Right. One more thing to do.
The streets we're as silent as the grave at this hour. Late enough to be early by mortal standards. If Onda had started outsourcing, hopefully that meant she hadn't successfully caught all his informants.
He needed to talk to Guru. This insurance…something the head Ventrue knocked out of his head with a sledgehammer? He needed to know, and the best way to find out was straight from the horses mouth, as it were. He was so close to something, he could feel it. But what, he wasn't sure. He had to straighten out his noodle, separate the facts and get his cases in order.
Fabien stopped dead in the street, gaze a million miles away. His mind, buzzing like a hive a bees.
Separate the facts…separate the cases…two separate cases…but what if they weren't? Separated by a century, elaborate "mob" killings, Court intrigue, apocalypse cults, blood magic…there was a thread, he could feel it, but couldn't quite…grasp…
He closed his eyes. Focus. Go back to what you know. Motive, means, opportunity. Who had Lou Graham hurt so badly, that they could do what they did to Phyre? Who would have the thaumaturgical knowledge to craft such a specific and complex ritual? And who had the opportunity to orchestrate all this, weaving through Seattle's deepest secrets for who knows how many years? It was there, on the tip of his brain-tongue, if could just…
He didn't notice the footsteps coming up behind him.
What he did notice was the stake, jutting through his ribs. His eyes snapped open in a brief and bright moment of panic…before the dark of Torpor swallowed him whole.