At midnight, two Good Girl handmaidens sat down in a greasy spoon for their mid-evening meal. They had hamburgers with pickles, onions, big leaves of lettuce, lots of mustard, and French fries washed down with chocolate milk. Their Mother didn't approve of how their diets had suffered since coming to the city, but she stopped short of forbidding them from partaking. Several restaurants knew who the Good Girls were and offered the food free of charge. They had gained quite a reputation throughout the city as being peacemakers. People just seemed much calmer when a Good Girl was around.
Cerys and Annora were sitting on the same side of the booth. Cerys had her hand on the vinyl between them, and Annora occasionally dropped her hand to trace lines over the upturned palm. This was expressly forbidden by their Mother. Physical relationships of any kind were against their oath, even relationships between Sisters. So far they hadn't explored beyond kissing and light touches, but Annora was eager for more. She slipped her fingers between Cerys' and squeezed.
Cerys whispered, "Nora..."
"I'm sorry. I can't help myself." She put her hands back on the table and picked up her napkin to dab at the grease on her lips. They looked similar enough to really be sisters; they had the same black hair, the same high cheekbones. Cerys was slightly older, but they didn't keep track of ages in the sect. There could have been ten years between them. Annora didn't care how much older than her Cerys was; her love had grown to something more intimate since before they relocated to what Mother called "this heathen city." Cerys felt it too, she knew, but she needed more time to accept it. The fact she had kept her hand still during Annora's touching spoke the volumes about everything she was too afraid to say aloud.
Annora was finished with her meal and pushed her plate aside. "I will see you in the morning, Cerys. Peaceful night."
"To you as well."
Annora started to slide out of the booth, but Cerys gripped the collar of her robe. Annora turned, and Cerys surprised her with a quick closed-mouth kiss. Annora's heart soared, and she smiled when they parted.
"Thank you, Sister."
Cerys was blushing, and she turned back to her plate. Annora reached out and brushed the back of her fingers over Cerys' cheek, then rose from the seat.
"I will see you in the morning. Perhaps we can find housing together."
Cerys didn't look up, but she nodded.
Annora grinned as she bid farewell to the woman behind the cash register. She stepped outside and pulled her hood up over her dark hair. She could feel her heart as a separate entity in her body, a warm and glowing presence that had been awakened by the touch of Cerys' lips. She folded her hands, closed her eyes, and centered her soul. She found the peace within her and began walking.
Good Girls had no predetermined routes for their nightly wandering. They simply went to where they were drawn. Annora liked the waterfront, loved the smell off the water despite the awful things that were surely hidden beneath the waves. She paused for a moment on the corner to look at the water, wondering at the lights in the buildings across the way. The city was alive at all hours, conscious and progressing forward. Some might say it was even more active during the night hours than when the sun was high and everyone stood exposed in its light.
She turned and walked to the north. A woman was standing against a brick wall, her arms crossed over her stomach and her head bowed. Annora approached slowly, tilting her head to the side to see past the veil of hair that obscured the woman's face.
"Are you injured?"
The woman looked up and blinked large green eyes. Tears had made her cheeks shine. Her bottom lip trembled and she scanned the street before ducking her head again. She sobbed, and Annora rested a hand on her shoulder.
"Would you like me to pray with you?"
The woman's right arm shot out before Annora's training could respond to the move. Her eyes widened as she felt the pain in her abdomen, a tearing sensation that spread as the woman cut her again. Annora bent double, trying to protect her midsection as the woman continued to slash and cut, thrusting her arm until the front of Annora's robe was soaked red. The woman shoved her, and Annora didn't have the strength to remain upright. Her hands trembled over her stomach as the blood throbbed from her wounds.
The redhead stepped over Annora's body and stood with one foot on either side of Annora. She bent at the waist, their faces level, and examined her in a clinical manner. The tears had stopped and her eyes were cold and emotionless. Her face was still wet, the tears remaining behind like a mask. Annora felt tears on her own cheeks now. Her stomach was so cold, so unbearably cold, and she could feel the warm blood staining her hands. Her blood.
The woman pressed her blade against Annora's throat.
No. Cerys kissed me. You can't do this. Not tonight.
"You should have saved some prayers for yourself." The woman's voice was as cold as her stare. Her arm tensed, and she began to apply pressure to her weapon.
Annora was aware of being unable to draw breath. Lights seemed to swarm behind her killer's head, flashing ever brighter with each painful throb of her heart. Her lips tried to form another word, but she lacked the strength and oxygen to make it heard.
Cerys...
#
"Let's make this quick, okay?"
"Like you know any other way, Mike." Detective Wanda Kane pushed away from the wall and followed Michael Sherman through the club. She was dressed conservatively compared to some of the other people on the dance floor, but she still felt overexposed. Her gun was in her clutch, and it had been too risky to wear a wire. Her partner was outside waiting for her to give the signal with the panic button built into her bracelet, but she didn't see how he would arrive in time to help if something bad did go down.
Sherman knocked on a door marked Invitation Only. After a moment it was opened and a woman with amazingly red hair answered. She wore a club T-shirt and a skirt tight enough to reveal she wasn't wearing anything underneath. She looked at Sherman, looked at Wanda, and nodded for them to come inside. The office was small and smelled of smoke, but it was soundproofed enough that the music of the club was reduced to a dull drumbeat in the walls.
Wanda looked at the redhead. "Is this the customer?"
Sherman walked behind the desk and sat down, brushing his hands over the thighs of his pants before he looked at her. "No, actually."
"Look, I don't have time for games. You want to hire me, then hire me. Don't play these games. My time is money." She turned toward the door, but the redhead moved into her way. "Sweetie, I don't usually shoot for free, but in your case I might make an exception."
Sherman said, "I've been reading some very interesting reports, Wanda. Reports about you and your list of accomplishments. Eight kills in the past year."
Wanda kept her eyes locked on the redhead's bright blues, unwilling to break the staring contest. "I don't like using the word 'kill.' Never know who might be listening."
"That is very true. Ms. Ketch, I have received some very concerning reports that I'm hoping you can counter. I'm hoping you can prove that they're incorrect so I won't have to do something I regret. Will you please take a look at these photographs?"
She reluctantly looked away from the redhead. Sherman had lined up three pictures on the desk. They were turned so they would be right-side up for her. She was the subject of each picture, and the building in the background was very familiar to her. It was the 410 Precinct, her base of operations. She had only been there three times in the past month, and it seemed as if someone had taken a picture of each visit.
"I'm going to get penalized because the cops can't hold onto me?" She smiled as if she pitied Sherman's paranoia. "I cover my tracks, but every now and then I get caught up in a sweep. I'm good at what I do, Mr. Sherman, and I convince them to let me go."
He smiled. "Well, it's a balance between you being a good liar and the cops being incompetent."
Wanda laughed. "Six of one, half a dozen of the other like they say, right?" She picked up one of the pictures. "I like this angle, though. Can I have these for my website? Nothing sells a rep like a picture of a hired gun walking out of a police station scot-free."
Sherman seemed to relax. "No nonsense. I like that, Ms. Ketch. No tells. But here's the thing. The person who brought this to my attention didn't just snap a few photographs. She went above and beyond."
Wanda turned to look at the redhead, who was still standing stoic by the door. When she looked back, Sherman had another picture lying on top of the other three. Once again, she was the focus of the picture. It was a professional shot, showing her head and shoulders and a flag behind her. She recognized the curly afro (why had she ever gotten rid of it?) but was more concerned about the police uniform she was wearing in the shot.
Sherman stared at her expectantly, waiting for the lie she would tell to get out of this one. Wanda fumbled for the panic button hid in her bracelet, but her fingers slipped mindlessly, usefully over the metal. It was like someone was in her head, screwing up her motor functions. She forced herself to focus.
"Where did you think I learned how to shoot? How to get past cops? I learned from the masters and then turned it back on 'em."
"I actually want to believe you. You have me doubting myself. It takes a lot to get me to doubt myself, so I want to applaud you for a valiant effort. But we've reached the end of our business arrangement."
Wanda turned, ready to body slam the little firecracker to get out the door. To her surprise, when she turned she was looking down the barrel of a gun that seemed impossibly enormous. The beat of the music out in the club faded to nothing, the room seemed utterly still and silent. The redhead smiled.
"Anything to say?"
"Kill a cop, and they'll hunt you down no matter where you hide."
"You missed the point. We're not hiding anymore. This is our debut."
Wanda brought one hand up to grab the weapon as the girl pulled the trigger.
#
Riley remembered it all. The darkness split by a sudden knife's-edge of light from the main room of the apartment. The comforting weight of her blanket being pulled away to expose her young body. Of course, in the dream, she was an adult. She didn't remember faces; they were always either in the darkness or backlit by the doorway. Rough hands touched her cheeks and her face and then... lower. She learned early on that fighting made it worse. She could kick and claw and bite, but they were always stronger. It hurt less to just let them do whatever they wanted and get it over with.
A hand touched her cheek and Riley realized she could move. "Don't you touch me," she shouted, propelling herself backward and off the bed. Something sharp poked into her left shoulder and then she was on the ground, her legs still on the bed as whoever had touched her reared up in the darkness.
"Baby!"
Riley's mind cleared away the last cobwebs of the dream. Gillian's voice, their apartment, their marriage bed. Her heart was pounding loud enough that the neighbors would complain, and she was drenched with sweat. She turned her hips and dropped her feet to the floor. Gillian scrambled over and joined her on the floor, hands on Riley's shoulder and head.
"It was a nightmare," she said. "You're okay. You're with me."
Riley ran her hands over Gillian's arms. "Did I hurt you?"
"No, baby. Are you okay?"
"My back... I hit it on the nightstand when I fell."
Gillian guided Riley forward, and Riley put her head on Gillian's shoulder as she examined the injury. "You're bleeding. Let me go get the first aid kit." She paused and said, "Can I let you go?"
"Yeah. Just hurry back."
"I will."
Gillian stood and went into the bathroom, and Riley drew her knees up to rest her elbows against them. She pushed her hands into her hair and closed her eyes, trying to dispel the last remnants of the nightmare. It had been months since her mind had thrown one of those memories at her; she didn't want to think about why it was surfacing now. Gillian left the bathroom light on when she came back with the first-aid kit, and the soft glow turned the bedroom back into a safe haven.
"Shirt off," Gillian said. Riley was too tired to even make an innuendo as she took off her sleeveless undershirt and twisted toward the bed.
"How bad is it?"
"Just a scrape. This will sting." She sprayed something on it and Riley hissed, lowering her head to her arms. "Sorry."
"It's okay. You're not used to working on live people."
Gillian chuckled and put a bandage over the wound. "That may have been true before I fell in love with you, but you've given me lots of training. Lots and lots."
Riley closed her eyes. "Say that again."
"Hm?"
"That you love me."
Gillian sighed happily and slipped her arms around Riley's waist. "I love you, love you, love you." She kissed the back of Riley's neck and shifted her legs. Riley moved, bending her knees and sitting on her feet as Gillian hugged her from behind. Her lips moved down the curve of Riley's shoulder. Riley stretched her arms out in front of her, palms flat on the mattress, and settled her weight against Gillian's lap.
"You sure?" Gillian whispered.
"Yeah."
Gillian rearranged herself. "Okay. Hold on." She guided Riley to a better position, grunted quietly, and eased her hands under the elastic of Riley's shorts. She cupped Riley's mound with one hand and let the other explore lower, massaging as she kissed Riley's neck through her hair and began to move her fingers in a slow rhythm. She kissed her way up to Riley's ear and began to whisper to her. The word "love" was repeated several times, along with terms of endearment to "my love, my wife, my heart."
Riley's fingers curled in the sheets, her head turned to silence her moans against her bicep. She could feel Gillian's whole body pressed against her from behind, Gillian's fingers easily moving inside her, and she worked the skin with her teeth as sex was pulled from the realm of nightmares and turned into something beautiful and real.
Riley came quietly and leaned back, angling herself to kiss Gillian's lips as Gillian kept hold on her. Riley slipped her tongue over Gillian's and turned her head, their cheeks brushing together as they reluctantly separated.
"You okay?"
"You do very well with live patients, if I say so myself." She stood up and got back into bed, and Gillian crawled over her to get to her side of the bed. They faced each other on top of the blankets, Gillian's arm tucked under the blankets and their foreheads almost touching. Riley wet her fingers and reached down, easing her hand between Gillian's legs. She lifted the hem of her nightie and Gillian gasped quietly.
"Why on earth are you giving me first aid, Detective Parra? I wasn't hurt." Gillian's voice was breathless, making her sound like a teenager.
"Preventative medicine, Dr. Hunt."
"Oh." Gillian's eyes closed and she moaned. She circled Riley's wrist with her fingers. "Oh, Riley."
The bed squeaked quietly with the gentle movement of Riley's arm. Riley kept her eyes open, watching Gillian closely for signs of impending climax. When she thought she saw the evidence, she changed position. She kissed Gillian's breasts through the sheer material of her nightie, kissed her stomach, and eased her legs apart just enough to get her head to where her hand was. After a few seconds, both of Gillian's hands were on the back of Riley's head and her hips were moving in almost imperceptible circles as she gasped her wife's name.
Riley kissed both of Gillian's thighs when she finally went boneless. She kissed the soft red hair between Gillian's legs and then slid up her body. Gillian demurely tugged her nightie back into place and cradled Riley against her, kissing her cheeks and lips as they settled in the shape of each other's bodies.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Thanks for taking my mind off it."
Gillian smiled. "My pleasure."
They had both just about managed to fall asleep when Riley's cell phone went off. She grunted. "Damn it."
Gillian's cell phone joined the chorus, and they looked at each other. Riley checked the clock and saw it was only a few minutes past three in the morning. Whatever had happened, it was bad enough to wake both a homicide detective and the medical examiner. Riley reached for her phone with a sense of dread.
Before she could answer it, someone began frantically knocking on the apartment's front door. Gillian looked at Riley, eyes wide, and they climbed out of opposite sides of bed to see what the hell was happening.
#
The message was the same on the phone and at the door: "one of ours was murdered." Gillian dressed in scrubs and a sweater, pausing only long enough to kiss Riley and put on a pot of coffee before she ran out the door. She didn't even bother with contacts, wearing her horn-rimmed glasses instead. Detective Wanda Kane's body had been dumped outside the police station with a large portion of her head missing.
Riley tried to process that information as she drove into work with a very shaken Aissa Good in the passenger seat. Aissa had come to tell Riley that one of her sisters, Annora Good, had been murdered by the waterfront. Gillian was on her way to examine both bodies. Riley could at least comprehend how an undercover detective wound up with a bullet in her skull, but a Good Girl? Riley had seen Aissa fight. She'd gone to bed thinking the Good Girls were the most dangerous group in the city, even if they did only fight in self-defense.
Lieutenant Briggs was dealing with a swarm of activity when Riley arrived. She looked visibly relieved when Riley walked in, so glad to have her head detective on-site that she didn't even seem to notice the girl Riley had in tow. Briggs seemed to be wearing pale pink pajamas underneath a buttoned blazer, and she was wearing two different tennis shoes, both lefties. She took the time to put her hair in a ponytail as she explained what they knew so far.
"About half an hour ago, someone dumped Wanda Kane's body on our doorstep. Whoever it was didn't stick around long enough for us to see their license plate. Probably wouldn't have done much good anyway. She was investigating a murder-for-hire ring, pretending to be a sniper offering her services to a man named Michael Sherman, owner of a club called Speakeasy. Her partner was stationed outside, but she didn't think she would get away with wearing a wire. So he didn't even know she was in danger until he got the call about an officer being found dead. He's crucifying himself downstairs."
"Poor man," Aissa said.
Riley looked at the flurry of activity. "What about the other murder?"
"John Doe. Hands and head are both missing. Gruesome."
"No, a woman. There was a stabbing victim on the--"
"Waterfront. Right." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sorry. Right. One of the Good Girls. It's the first time we've seen anything bad happen to one of them. Dr. Hunt is-- well. You know where Dr. Hunt is going. We'll know more once she has a chance to examine the body, but Riley, priority--"
Riley nodded. "Wanda's first. I know." She looked at Aissa, who nodded her understanding. "What can I do?"
"SWAT is being rounded up right now. Get to the bar and get Sherman down here if you have to drag him by his ears."
"Yes, boss. Have you seen Caitlin?"
"We called her, but I haven't seen her yet."
Someone else caught Briggs' eye and she went to deal with them. Riley went to her desk and opened the drawer, lifting a plastic tub and taking out a black elastic strap. She fitted it over her badge and hooked it back on her belt before motioning to Aissa to follow her to the stairs. "We're going to multitask, okay? Every cop in this city is going to be looking for Wanda's killer. I'm not going to forget Annora."
"Thank you, Riley."
She nodded and took out her cell phone. "Kenzie. Were you asleep? Sorry. We're having a hell of a night over here. Thought you and Chelsea might be able to lend a hand. A cop was shot, and..." She smiled. "Thanks, Kenzie, but that's not why I was calling. We have another murder we need to look into, and I can't even find Caitlin." She paused. "She's not there is she? Sorry. I had to check. I'm heading to Speakeasy; why don't you head to Priest's apartment and see if you can find her. See you soon." She hung up. "I don't like this. A cop and a Good Girl... maybe whoever did this took out an angel, too."
"Do you think they..." Aissa furrowed her brow. "I mean, how could they?"
"I don't know. They don't necessarily have to kill her. They just have to keep her out of the fight. There are ways to neutralize an angel."
Outside, an unseasonable drizzle had started. Riley and Aissa jogged to her car. Aissa sat on her hands to warm them and watched the rain streak over the glass as Riley drove.
"Did you know her well? The officer who died?"
Riley shook her head. "Not well. I went undercover last year, and she was a lifeline for me then. Getting messages to Jill, dropping off reports to get them back to Briggs... she kept me connected. But no. I didn't really know her very well."
"I'm sorry for your loss, regardless."
"Thank you. Me too." She tensed her hands on the steering wheel. "Do you have any idea what is going on tonight? Any... vibrations?"
"I'm sorry, no. Maybe if I was still with my Sisters, but I'm too far removed from them." She straightened in her seat. "I should go to them. They'll need to speak with someone from the outside, and I can make that easier for them."
"Good. Thank you. Let me know where to drop you off. Make it close... I don't want you out running around in this rain."
Aissa directed her to a covered alleyway near the waterfront and Riley parked. She twisted into the backseat and came back with a rainslicker and an umbrella. "Take them. I'll feel better about dropping you off."
"Thank you, Riley." She kissed Riley on the cheek. "I was worried about trying to survive without my Mother. But you've been like a mother to me."
"Watch your mouth. I'm not that much older than you."
Aissa smiled. "I'll call you if they know anything. Be safe, Riley."
"You too."
She watched Aissa disappear down the alley and then reluctantly pulled away from the curb. She got a text from Briggs and held the phone against the steering wheel to read it. "SWAT ready two blocks from location. Meet w/ them there 1st. You give the OK."
Riley snapped the phone shut and tossed it onto the passenger seat. The SWAT van was two blocks away from Speakeasy. She got out of the car as the SWAT leader got out of the back of the van. He was a tall, lanky man whose body armor made him look like a Ninja Turtle. She forced the comparison out of her mind when he spoke. "Detective Parra? Sergeant Dillon. We've got nothing from inside. No one's come in or out since we arrived."
"Maybe they're getting ready to close for the night." She secured her vest and looked at her watch. Almost four. A little early for this part of town, but not unheard of. "Your boys ready?"
"Bastard took out a cop. Just tell 'em where to point their guns."
Riley introduced herself to the SWAT team and led them down the street. The drizzle had picked up a little, but Riley barely noticed it due to the heat coming off her skin. The armor was heavy, and the street was a surreal kaleidoscope of lights reflected in the rain. She stopped by the front door of Speakeasy and looked at her watch again. One hour and twelve minutes ago, Gillian's fingers had been inside of her. It was too easy to imagine this was just some bizarre dream, that she'd wake up and everything would be fine. She shook off the thought and turned her face to the sky. Raindrops ricocheted off the bridge of her nose into the well of her eye and she blinked the water away.
The SWAT team was lined up behind her. She held up two fingers and a thumb, counted down, and then dropped her first.
"Go, go, go, go!" Dillon barked. His men moved as one entity, moving like a sentient shadow and breaking down the gaudy purple front doors of the club. Once they were all inside, Riley followed with her gun drawn. She brought the gun up to sweep the room and then immediately lowered it.
"What the hell?"
Dillon and his men were standing along the inside wall, weapons still ready but wavering with nothing to aim at. Dillon himself pushed up the visor of his helmet and looked at Riley with confusion. She shook his head and moved deeper into the room.
The dance floor was covered with corpses. Their clothes were drenched with blood. Riley went past the bodies around the bar to a room marked Invitation Only. She pushed it open and saw a man seated with his head on the desk like he was taking a nap in the middle of the work day. The hair at his temple was matted with blood, and streaks of it ran down and around his sightless eyes. His mouth was open slightly, as if the final blow had been a complete shock to him. It probably had been.
She glanced at the wall and tensed. A spray of blood, brain matter, and a bullet hole. Her chest was tight, and she had to struggle past the urge to throw up at the sight. Wanda had died in this office, and then... whoever had done it decided Sherman had outlived his purpose. The others in the club were just collateral damage.
She left the office and took a breath of the sickening, but relatively fresh compared to the office, air of the main room. Dillon approached and stopped himself from saying anything when he saw the expression on her face.
"Get forensics. No one goes in that room until they've gone over every inch of it."
He tapped his ear. "We're getting word about one of those nuns getting killed near here. Detective, all due respect, but what the hell is going on in this town?"
Riley suddenly knew, but it was nothing she could tell Dillon. She muttered something about being as confused as he was and passed through the abattoir to the entrance of the building. She went outside and stood on the sidewalk, breathing in a lungful of cold, wet air. The drizzle washed over her face, cooling her down, and she clutched her right shoulder.
She'd been dismissing the pain as aggravation of the wound she'd gotten from falling out of bed, but that was her left shoulder. Her right shoulder hurt because her tattoo was thrumming with energy. The Good Girls were allowed to operate in the city, to walk the streets and pray for protection, because evil had no champion. But now a Good Girl had died.
Marchosias had a new champion. And whoever he'd chosen was making their name known in a big, bloody way.
#
The three newest residents of Gillian's morgue lay like broken statues underneath the harsh light. Two women and a man, only one of them with a fully intact head. Gillian's assistant Lydia was working on the John Doe, while a medical student named Zach worked on the Good Girl. Gillian had assigned the fallen detective to herself. She had known Wanda Kane, had liked her. She didn't often visit the morgue, but they had passed in the hall. Gillian hesitated in her vocal report, speaking quietly so her voice wouldn't transfer to Zach and Lydia's recording devices, and took a moment to reflect.
A detective had fallen in the line of duty. How easily it could have been Riley.
"Dr. Hunt?" Lydia, sounding confused. "Could you take a look at this?"
Gillian pivoted and took one step to stand beside her assistant. She started to ask what the problem was when she saw for herself. The John Doe's head and hands were both missing, most likely to deter identification, but the killer likely hadn't known what would be found when he was opened. Gillian bent closer and examined the abdominal cavity where the heart should have been. "I've only seen this in textbooks. Situs inversus. All the organs are swapped, reversed."
"So this was natural?"
"Yes. He was born like this. Might not even have known about it until he needed another medical procedure." She took off her gloves and went to her office, standing over the laptop as she logged on. Lydia had followed her and stood in the doorway. "We just have to see if there have been any cases of situs inversus in the city and we should have our John Doe's identity." She did a quick search and smiled. "Here we go, patient is..." Her smile faded and she straightened slowly. "Shit."
"Doctor?"
"This day just got a lot longer."
#
Riley parked in front of the station and felt at least a portion of her stress evaporate when she saw Priest standing on the front steps. She wore a black coat with the collar turned up, and she hunched her shoulders against the rain as she hurried down the steps to meet Riley on the sidewalk. Riley greeted her with a quick hug. "I'm glad you're okay. No one could find you."
"I was in No Man's Land. I had to follow up on something. Riley, it's happened--"
"Marchosias has a new champion."
Priest stared at her as they walked into the surreal warmth and dryness of the building. The windows appeared supernaturally dark due to the rain, and every light was glowing. It still felt like the middle of the night even though it was technically closer to daybreak. Riley shed her coat as she led Priest toward the stairs.
"How long have you known?"
Priest said, "I started feeling something three or four days ago, but I assumed it was due to Roland Knox's presence in town. I thought he was the other force I felt. But then he left, and the sensation only grew stronger. I wanted to be certain before I alerted you. How did you know?"
"It's been a busy night." Her phone rang and she pulled it from her pocket. "It's Jill. Hey, hon. Yeah. We're right by there. We'll detour." She hung up and directed Priest to the third floor landing. They went to the morgue where Gillian and her two assistants were gathered around a table holding a male body. Riley looked at the bodies of Wanda and Annora Good. "John Doe has taken precedence, so I assume you identified him."
Gillian still looked stunned. "You've actually met him, Riley. You arrested him not too long ago. Meet Mayor Dominic Leary."
Riley went cold. The rain was still dripping from her coat, and it seemed like the impact of the droplets on the tile was the only sound in the room.
"You're sure?" she finally said.
"He had a rare condition, so the odds are something like one in ten thousand. The body type, age, height, everything else matches. It's him, Riley."
Priest said, "He should still be in prison."
"He was out on bail. House arrest." Riley remembered cursing at the breakfast table when she heard the news. "There should be officers watching him."
Gillian shrugged. "All I know is his identity."
Riley sighed and looked at the other tables. "The mayor, a detective, and a Good Girl. Someone is trying to make a statement."
Riley met her eye. They couldn't talk freely with the two assistants in the room, but she nodded and Gillian's shoulders sagged.
"I should go report to Briggs."
"Yeah. There's going to be a press circus over this." She glanced at Lydia and Zach. "You might want to call in some reinforcements, if you can. You're going to get a call about a lot more bodies. We found the site where Wanda was killed, and it's a bloodbath."
Gillian sighed. "Well. Lydia..."
The girl was already moving toward the phone. "I'll call."
"Thank you. I'm going upstairs to tell Briggs about what's going on. The commissioner will have to be involved too, I'm sure."
Riley nodded. "I'll walk you up. I have a report of my own to give."
When they were out of the morgue, Gillian looked at Priest. "There's a new champion for the other guys, I guess."
Priest nodded. "Yes. And from her introduction, I would say she's going to make Gail Finney look like a cakewalk. This is senseless violence. Brutality and murder for its own sake. Marchosias has picked someone as evil as he is."
Gillian closed her eyes and slipped her hand into Riley's. "Well... that's just wonderful."
#
The church was just under a hundred years old, but it had been built to mimic the style of older churches in England. The rain brought the stone walls and wooden framework to life, and the interior of the church smelled timeless and untouched by the forward march of the world. There were ten Good Girls present, offered the space by the deacon who had given them shelter and food in the past. Their Mother, the Paladin and commander of their sect, stood at the pulpit, her speech interrupted by the doors squeaking open and a rain-soaked waif stumbling into the sanctuary. She flipped back the hood of her slicker and revealed frizzy blonde hair, her eyes wide and lips parted as she scanned the people present before she locked eyes with the Mother.
Adira was the first one off her pew, lifting the hem of her robe so she didn't trip as she ran to Aissa. She grabbed her, ignoring the wetness that transferred to her pristine robes as she embraced her lost sister. Soon the others were on their feet and Aissa was surrounded. Some hugged her, but others could only touch her hand or her hair. Aissa closed her eyes and let herself be crushed.
The Mother came down off the pulpit and moved slowly down the aisle, giving the younger handmaidens time to greet their prodigal Sister before she cleared her throat. The throng dispersed, but remained surrounding Aissa as she stepped forward and bowed her head.
"Mother."
"Sister Aissa. You look very well." Her gray eyes wrinkled when she smiled. "We have been frightened for you since you left our flock."
Someone took Aissa's hand and squeezed. Another touched the back of her shoulder. Aissa said, "I've missed you all. But I've found a place where I belong. It was my fate to be exiled so I could continue serving. Thank you, Mother, for sending me away."
The Mother blinked back tears, smiling wide enough to reveal small white teeth. Her blonde hair was parted in the middle and tied in twin braids that hung over her shoulders. Aissa knew how difficult it was for a mother to follow the sect's guidelines and cut loose one of her Daughters. She stepped out of the crowd and took her Mother's hand. She brought it to her lips and kissed the knuckles.
"You know why I've returned tonight of all nights."
"Annora."
Aissa nodded. "She was murdered. The champion is investigating the crime, but it should not have been possible."
"The fact it was possible is a sign to us," the Mother said. "The demons have chosen someone to stand for them. This city is no longer a safe place for our prayers, and the new champion has made that known. We are leaving today."
Aissa's heart shattered. It was one thing to be cut away from the flock but still know they were nearby. But now they were leaving. Without her.
"I will... see to it that Annora's murderer doesn't go unpunished. And I will see to her funeral myself."
"No." Cerys was standing at the back of the crowd, but she stepped forward as she spoke. "I will take care of her. I'm not leaving."
Mother's face was stone, but traces of emotion slipped through. "If that is what you wish, Cerys."
"It's what Annora would have wanted," she said softly. "It's what I must do."
"Then I will grant you leave, Daughter. Aissa..."
"I'll watch over her, Mother."
The Mother smiled. "I am not your mother any longer, and you are not my child. You are more." She touched Aissa's cheek. "You have become a source of pride for me, Aissa."
Aissa blushed and dipped her chin.
"We are not leaving for several hours. The man who presides over this church has granted it to us for the day, so you are welcome to remain with us to say goodbye to your former Sisters if you wish."
Aissa knew Riley would need her help with the investigation, but she would never forgive herself if she walked away without a proper farewell. She nodded and said, "I will stay." The other Good Girls surrounded her again, and Aissa closed her eyes as they closed ranks around her.
#
By seven that morning, the sidewalk in front of the station was covered by the myriad of cameras and reporters who had each brought their own ponchos. Equipment was draped by a protective canopy of plastic, so a swath of concrete directly in front of the steps was practically dry by the time Commissioner Preston Benedict emerged to give his statement. Lieutenant Briggs was at his side, and they both stood in the rain without benefit of umbrellas as they reported what they knew.
An undercover detective had been murdered by persons unknown at the club known as Speakeasy. That very club was also the sight of a mass killing which resulted in twenty-two more bodies that were currently filling up the morgue freezer.
A Good Girl had been brutally attacked with a knife, her throat slit before she could succumb to her abdominal injuries.
But the story that had drawn the press out on such a dreary morning was the brutal killing of Dominic Leary. Recently arrested for the murder of a stripper, disgraced and removed from his position as mayor, and now dismembered. Commissioner Benedict mentioned the other deaths as a matter of ceremony before he delved into the information about the former mayor's murder.
"The Medical Examiner determined Mayor Leary suffered a brutal beating before his death and dismemberment. After his death, his hands and head were removed in what we believe to be an attempt to conceal his identity for as long as possible. The body was dumped outside of an all-night service station. The owner could not identify the vehicle that left the body except to say it was a large black SUV."
Once he finished the prepared statement, he opened the floor to questions.
"How was the body identified?"
"We're not releasing that information at this time. The Medical Examiner, in the course of performing her duties, found undeniable evidence that the body was that of Dominic Leary. It has since been confirmed by blood type, and a DNA test will be forthcoming to completely settle all doubt. Yes?"
"Surely the police department had officers watching Mayor Leary in the event he tried to run. Where were they?"
"We're not commenting on that at this time. There were officers watching the Leary residence, but until they've been fully debriefed, we're not going to reveal anything publicly."
"Do you believe these murders are connected?"
"It's unlikely, but we're not discounting anything at this point. The fact that they were all different methods of killing seems to point toward unconnected killers."
"Are the other Good Girls in danger?"
"Our officers have been out all night searching for other members of this religion, but they seem to have all vanished overnight. Whether this is a good sign or bad, we're not certain yet." He pointed at another reporter.
"Due to her experience with such high-profile cases, will Detective Riley Parra be involved in these investigations?"
"Detective Parra has been assigned the Wanda Kane investigation. I've personally assigned Detective Benjamin Harding to the mayor's case."
The questions went on until Commissioner Benedict declared it had run its course. He brusquely thanked the press for their time and turned, disappearing back into the building so quickly that no one could think to stop him with any further questions. Briggs followed him, and they took a moment to shed their rain gear before moving deeper into the building. Briggs took the brief time they had on their own to broach an uncomfortable subject.
"Sir, I believe Detectives Parra and Priest would be a beneficial presence on all three cases."
"Unless they each split in two, I'm not going to spread them so thin. Parra can handle Wanda Kane's murder. Her partner can handle the Good Girl murder, if they're willing to work apart. We're going to need all hands on deck for this, Zoe. You have more than one team in your division. Don't make the mistake of relying too heavily on them."
Briggs winced. She couldn't tell him that her real reasons were because Riley and Priest knew to look for demonic influence in the murders. Detective Harding was a good enough cop, but he was in the dark. If Mayor Leary was killed by Marchosias, or someone working for Marchosias, true justice would never be achieved. She had no valid arguments, so she simply agreed with Benedict's assignments and went upstairs to tell Riley.
Detective Timbale said she had gone into the on-call room to get something to eat from the fridge. Briggs went in and found Riley sitting at the small card table that served as a dining room for the Homicide Division, head down on her hands, fast asleep. She nearly let her sleep, but decided Riley would be irritated if she did.
"Detective?"
Riley sat up quickly and grunted, rubbing her face with both hands before she focused on Briggs. "Sorry, boss."
"Don't apologize." She pulled out the chair next to Riley and sat down. "You're heading Wanda's case and Priest is working the Good Girl's death, but Commissioner Benedict wouldn't budge on the mayor. He assigned Detective Harding."
"Ugh, that guy bugs me."
"Who doesn't bug you?"
Riley said, "You've been okay lately."
Briggs chuckled wearily and rested both elbows on the table, pushing her hair out of her eyes with both hands.
"Twenty-five dead bodies in a single night. Even for this town, that might be a record."
"We still don't have the patrol numbers from No Man's Land. Could be higher."
Briggs groaned. "You're a real miserable person, Riley."
"Sorry, boss."
Briggs stood up and pushed the chair back in. Riley started to stand as well, but Briggs waved her back down. "I found you and told you all of that fifteen minutes from now. You deserve a rest. In fact, I insist on it. No one here wants you making any mistakes because you're sleep deprived. We may have the guy who shot Wanda on a slab down in the morgue, but we still need to know who was pulling his strings. Something bad happened in that club. You need to be on top of your game to find out what it was."
"Okay. Thanks."
Briggs nodded and walked away as Riley put her head back down. At the door, Briggs turned off the light and looked back to where Riley seemed to already be asleep again. She said a silent prayer that she hoped would bring luck, then left to let Riley nap in peace. If any of them could be said to have any peace in this city. She sighed and went to her office to see what other fires needed her attention.
#
At home, the Good Girls slept in dormitories, so bunking on the pews was hardly new to them. Aissa sat on the stage with her Mother, talking quietly to her about what she had done and seen since her exile from the order. Mother touched Aissa's shoulder, her hair, her hands and, although Aissa normally hated to be fussed over, she allowed the contact. When she was finished, Mother looked at the pews that kept her from seeing her girls.
"Perhaps we have all been tainted by this town. We've done things... experienced things that would cause us all to be exiled. And with Annora's loss, and Cerys deciding to remain as well..." She pressed her lips together and looked down at her feet. "Come home, Aissa."
Aissa's brain refused to hear the words until it turned them over a few times. "I killed. I've injured people. Good Girls..."
"The Grand-Mother has forgotten what the world is like, and she has never experienced No Man's Land. What good is our training if we don't use it? To exile a Daughter like you is wrong. I will support your return, and I will fight Grand-Mother myself if she refuses. The things we have all done and seen in this city can make us stronger... but not if we turn our backs on those who actually experience the evil this world can breed. Come home, Aissa. Come back to us, and teach us to be better."
Aissa was crying. She covered her mouth with her hands, overjoyed at hearing the words she'd never even fantasized about hearing. She wiped at her cheeks, sniffled, and turned to hug Mother tightly. She pressed her face against her Mother's neck.
"No."
Mother pulled back. "Aissa, please. You--"
She shook her head. "I can't, Mother. Thank you so much for the offer. It means the world to me, but it just... it makes this my choice." She clutched Mother's upper arms and kept her voice steady. "I've made a promise to someone. She rescued me after I was cut loose, and I gave her my oath. I will be this city's champion when her time has ended. Even if I could back out of my promise, I don't want to. Please understand, Mother."
"Of course I understand." She leaned in and kissed Aissa between the eyebrows. "It will be an honor to give our prayers to someone we already know and love. Our prayers will shake the walls of Heaven with their strength."
Aissa laughed. "Thank you, Mother."
"No. You're not my daughter any more, champion."
Aissa felt pride swelling her chest and she looked down to swallow the lump in her throat. "Thank you... Isolde."
Isolde smiled and kissed the crown of Aissa's head, holding her hands and squeezing the fingers. They held each other for a long moment before Isolde turned her head to whisper in Aissa's ear. Aissa listened, nodded, and kissed her former Mother's cheek before she stood up and walked down the center aisle of the church toward the exit. She looked at the sleeping women she had once called Sisters and pulled her sweatshirt's hood up over her hair and stuck her hands into the pockets of her borrowed windbreaker. She hadn't realized how far she had already come from her Family until she sat in a room with them and understood she didn't belong.
She knelt next to the pew where Cerys was lying down but not sleeping. She touched Cerys' leg and gently nodded for her to follow. Cerys picked up the rucksack containing her meager belongings and stepped out into the aisle. Isolde was on the stage and blew a kiss goodbye, and Cerys blew one back.
They walked out of the church together. Cerys put her hood up against the rain and Aissa pressed against her as they hurried to the protection of the el station. They sat together on the cold bench, and Cerys looked at the world around her like she had been transported to a completely different universe. Aissa squeezed her shoulder.
"It's the same place you've spent the last few months. It's not different."
"It is different. I get to hurt them now... the people who killed Annora."
Aissa smiled. "Yeah. We're going to find them together. We'll make them pay."
Cerys put her head down on Aissa's shoulder. "I loved her. I should have told her."
"I'm sorry."
Cerys began to cry softly, and Aissa stroked her arm as they waited for the train.
#
Priest woke Riley and followed her back out to their desks. Riley brainstormed a strategy as they walked through the room. "We'll coordinate on both murders. We know the Good Girl was murdered as a statement, and Wanda's death was probably the same. Marchosias wanted to make sure we knew there was a new champion in town. Now we're going to focus on finding who it is."
"What about the mayor's death?"
Riley glanced toward Benjamin Harding's desk. "I don't know, but we're out in the cold on that one whatever the cause. I'll keep in touch with Benji and see what he knows. If it looks like it's turning into one of our kind of cases I'll offer to lend him a hand with the investigation." She sat down and turned her chair to face Priest's desk. "We need the security cameras from both locations. Wanda was killed in the club district, so there have to be at least three security cameras covering that block. Parking garages, other clubs, liquor stores. Annora was killed on the waterfront, so there won't be as many cameras aimed just right, but we could get lucky."
Priest was marking down notes when Briggs came out of her office. She stopped by Riley's desk and said, "Hope you have something to report, because we're about to get called in front of the principal." She looked across the room. "Benji. Could you come here, please?"
Benjamin Harding was a young and cocky detective, wearing three days worth of stubble. When he moved, he seemed to navigate the obstacles in his path with a sharp grace of a boxer. He settled between Riley and Priest's desks, nodding a greeting to them before he focused on Briggs. "What's up, boss?"
"We're about to have an esteemed guest who would like updates on the three major cases that came in today. The acting mayor, Lark Siskin, is on her way up. I've told her that it's still extremely early in the investigation, but she insisted on meeting the three of you. Just give her a quick review of what you're planning. She can't honestly expect results within an hour of the press conference, but she's just establishing her new position."
Benji nodded. "No problem. I'm already following a few leads on the mayor's finances. Apparently the office wasn't as clean as he claimed during his last campaign."
Briggs said, "You may not want to mention that lead when Siskin arrives. She was his deputy, after all." The elevator bell chimed and Briggs sighed. "Here we go."
The doors parted and Lark Siskin stepped into the bullpen like a dictator surveying a sweatshop. Her chin was held high and her shoulders were back, and every head in the room turned to follow her progress to where Briggs was standing. She wore a charcoal black dress suit over a blood red blouse that was fastened at the collar by an ivory cameo. Trailing behind her in identical black suits were two aides who, for all intents and purposes, were exact copies of each other. One had her red hair tied back in a ponytail while the other wore it loose.
Lark reached Briggs and offered a polite smile. "Lieutenant Briggs. It's nice to see you again, despite the circumstances." She turned and looked at the trio of detectives, focusing on Riley. "And you must be the famous Riley Parra. The mayor was quite a fan of your heroics during the Angel Maker case. You're making quite a name for yourself in this town."
Riley took the manicured hand offered to her. She was magnanimous and attributed the cold skin to the fact Lark had just come in out of the rain, but she withdrew her hand as quickly as she could manage without being impolitic. Lark turned to introduce the women behind her. "These are my aides; Abby Shepherd and Emily Simon."
Riley shook Emily's hand. When she moved to do the same with Abby, the woman apologized and held up her right hand as a silent explanation. A long narrow cut ran along the meaty part of her palm.
"That's quite a slice," Riley said.
Lark smiled. "Culinary incident. She was cutting a bagel when we received the news about Mayor Leary. Such a tragic fall from grace."
Riley nodded and watched as Abby put her hand behind her back. Briggs continued with the introductions.
"This is Detective Benjamin Harding... he'll be investigating the murder of your predecessor." Benji nodded, surprising Riley that he wasn't trying to make an impression. Briggs continued, "And this is Detective Caitlin Priest."
Priest stood up. "Detective Parra is aware of my progress on the case. She can fill you in. I have to go get some warrants." She turned without waiting to be dismissed and weaved between the desks until she reached the stairs.
Briggs furrowed her brow and said, "She's usually a bit friendlier than that."
Lark didn't seem offended. "We're all under a great deal of stress. It's been a very trying day for us all, but for you especially. I won't keep you from your duties any more than necessary. I just wanted to let you all know that you'll have the full power of the mayor's office at your disposal. Whatever you need, we'll cover your back. Don't worry about the press or backlash. Just solve these... heinous crimes."
"Thank you. That's very much appreciated."
Lark nodded. "I will leave you to your jobs, Detectives. Anything you need, you have a friend in the mayor's office."
She smiled at Benji, held Riley's gaze a bit longer than necessary before she turned and motioned for Abby and Emily to follow her. Riley stood up once Lark's back was turned. Benji drifted off toward his desk, and Briggs touched Riley's arm to keep her from running off. Once the acting mayor and her aides were in the elevator and Benji was out of earshot, she spoke.
"What was that about, with Priest?"
"I have a suspicion. Let me go confirm it." She touched Briggs' arm before she crossed the office and went to the stairs. Priest was standing on the next landing down, her back to the wall and her arms crossed over her chest. She looked up at the sound of Riley's footsteps and pushed away from the wall. Riley spoke before she could. "It's her, isn't it? She's Marchosias' new champion."
Priest nodded. "She's evil, Riley. I can't explain it so you'd understand, but she has... something wrong with her. She was born wrong. She's kept it hidden from sight for a very long time, but Marchosias has just given her an outlet for it to grow and flourish."
"Looks like Marky's moved up from Gail Finney. Did you see the cut on Abby's hand?"
"Yes. Do you think she was involved in Annora's death?"
Riley nodded. "Not only that, but the wound was been treated. It had been bandaged, but the bandage was removed before she arrived. Mayor Siskin wanted me to see it. She wanted me to know. That was the whole point of the meet-and-greet."
Priest said, "So what do we do?"
Riley gestured up the stairs with her head. "We go get those warrants, we scour the security cameras, and we arrest the killers."
Priest wet her lips and nodded as she followed Riley back up the stairs.
#
Lark poured herself a glass of wine. Abby and Emily were standing across from her, on either side of the devil seated in the single visitor's seat. Lark made him wait as she sniffed the wine, closed her eyes, and tossed her head back to take it all in a single swallow. She touched the corner of her mouth with her pinkie and put the glass back down on the blotter. She fixed Marchosias with eyes so blue they were almost like ice.
He smiled at her. "Don't expect me to reproach you. You deserve a celebration. We've had a remarkable day."
She took her seat and leaned back. "We had a good day. It hasn't achieved remarkable. Not yet. My plan has one more step before I'll consider myself satisfied."
Marchosias' smile faded slightly, but he retained a look of bemused satisfaction. "We've been over this, Lark. The plan was bold, but the final part was a step too far."
"I'm stunned by your cowardice."
He finally let his amusement fade completely and leaned forward. "I would watch my tongue if I were you, Lark. Let's not turn this into a civil war. We won today. Riley is looking into the security footage just like we knew she would, and she'll find the damning evidence. She'll arrest our patsy and a big flashy 'Cop-Killer' trial will ensue. We'll wait for the opportune moment and exonerate her suspect with incontrovertible evidence of his innocence. When all is said and done, Riley Parra will be a curse word among police officers. Her reputation will be ruined."
"In a year's time, or two years? We have Riley Parra on her knees now, so what better time to deliver the crushing blow?" Lark leaned forward as well, her elbows on the edge of her desk. "Retreating is for the weak. We crush Riley Parra and take our victory."
Marchosias shook his head. "There are rules in place, Lark. Rules that protect us as well as the other team. We must abide by them."
"Why?"
"Because no matter how many battles we win, no matter how many bodies we put in the ground, in an unfair fight, the forces of good will always triumph over us. The rules give us a fighting chance."
"The rules hold us back. The rules restrain us when we should be spreading our wings and flying. You chose me to be your champion, Marchosias. You will not stand in the way of my victory."
He rose and put his hands on her desk. The wood steamed where his skin made contact with it, and his voice dropped to a low growl. "You are not the commander in this army, Lark. You will follow my orders. Is that understood?"
She returned his stare without blinking.
"I asked you a question, Mayor Siskin."
"I understand your position, Marchosias."
He lifted his hands and straightened his suit jacket. "Good. Excellent. Sorry for the display, but you must understand... I've been doing this a lot longer than you can even imagine. Riley will orchestrate her own downfall. We simply have to provide her with enough rope to hang herself, and she will do everything else for us." He looked at Abby and Emily, smiled at a private thought, and dipped his head to her as he walked to the office door. "Big things will happen in this city, Lark. Riley Parra won't know what hit her."
Lark reclined in her chair, fingers steepled, and held her smile until the door slammed shut behind Marchosias. She turned her eyes toward Abby and Emily. "When one makes a literal deal with a devil, one does so hope that devil isn't a coward. Marchosias is disappointing. To say the least."
"So what do we do now?" Emily asked.
"Now." Lark said the word softly and eyed the burnt palm-prints on her desk. "Now we continue as planned."
Abby frowned. "But Marchosias--"
"Marchosias is a weak, pathetic excuse of a devil who has already allowed Riley Parra to defeat him once. The war was started anew because of her. She is unafraid of him because she has no reason to be. He is weak. Fortunately, he has chosen the right champion to assure victory this time. We're continuing with my plan as it was written. Ignore Marchosias' warnings."
Emily nodded, although she still looked lost. "Yes, but... how? He made everything possible, ma'am."
"Go into No Man's Land and find a demon who isn't as... cautious... as our tin-pot leader. There are bound to be a few. Find one and give him his instructions. I want news of Gillian Hunt's death before this time tomorrow, or I will squeeze the life from her myself."
Abby and Emily nodded and muttered assurances that it would be done as they turned to leave the office.
Lark turned toward the window and smiled. The early-morning rain had moved on, leaving the city gleaming in its wake.
It really was shaping up to be a most beautiful day.