The pulse of eerie blue light in the atmosphere gives Lydia advance warning of the police presence long before she arrives, but the size of it still gives her an unpleasant shock. Five cars and two vans are blocking the street and at least a dozen officers, some ushering a crowd of curious bystanders away but most just standing around. As her Mustang crawls towards the barricade, one of them, a young man with neat blond hair, approaches her window.
“Have to take the long way around.” He gestures back the way she’s come from and then off to the left.
“I’m here to see Detective Gilbey,” Lydia replies. “I’m Lydia Tune.”
“Who?” The officer frowns.
“Lydia Tune.” Lydia feels her cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I’m a writer.”
“No press allowed right now.” Again, he points back down the road.
“He’s expecting me.”
The young officer crouches and peers at her, then reaches for a radio on his belt. “Sarge, you got the detective with you?”
Silence, then the radio hisses. “Yeah.”
“There’s a woman here says he’s expecting her.”
“Tell her to meet him at the Motel 6 like the rest of ’em.”
The officer smirks, his eyes travelling down Lydia’s front, and she has to bite back the urge to snap at him. The radio hisses again, but this time the voice coming from it is Alex’s. “Let her in.”
“Copy that,” the officer replies, still smirking. “Go ahead.” He jerks his thumb towards the entrance and walks away. As Lydia parks, she sees him rejoin his group, who all laugh and look over at her. She mutters a curse under her breath, gets out of the car, pulls her leather jacket tight around her and heads for the entrance, ducking underneath hastily erected black and yellow crime scene tape.
Inside, the building has a very different atmosphere than earlier in the day. Lit only by dim emergency lights, the rooms feel smaller, the ceilings lower. Large, boxy stands and cases cast dark shadows, and paintings that were bright and colourful look drained and melancholy. Where is everybody? Where am I supposed to go?
Following the same path that she and Alex took through the exhibits, she catches the swinging beam of a flashlight and hears low voices through a doorway ahead. The blood room. Lydia’s heart beats faster as she moves towards it, then explodes in a frenzy when she sees what lies beyond.
In the middle of the room, faced by all three giant paintings that remind Lydia of gushing wounds, a new display has been erected. Atop a cylindrical plinth, a grotesque creature posed in a crouched position. Its body is human; loose, greying skin hanging and folding, pierced all over with giant, plucked feathers. Arms outstretched like sick parodies of wings. And where a human head used to be, the head of a golden eagle skewered onto the top of the spine, beak wide open, black eyes bulging.
Lydia retches violently, her legs giving way beneath her, and a strong hand catches her arm as she begins to fall.
“I got you.”
Before she knows what is happening, Alex’s arms are around her. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply. “I’m okay.” He releases his grip, and she looks around at him. “Who…” She can’t bring herself to finish the question, or look around again at the mutilated body.
Alex looks at her for a long moment, as if trying to decide how to answer. Then his eyes move up and to the left, and he jerks his head slightly. Lydia looks, a sucking void in the pit of her stomach.
Above the door she came in through, a human head has been mounted like a trophy, its eyes and mouth wide mirroring the expression of the bird. Lydia recognises it at once as Dorothy Eagle.
“She’s—” she begins.
“Devere’s old teacher,” Alex finishes. “I know.”
“I met her.” The sight of the old woman’s gaping face causes cold waves of horror to crash over Lydia, but she can’t tear her eyes away from it. “Three days ago.”
“Yeah, we’re gonna need to talk about that.” Alex puts a hand on her shoulder to bring her attention back to him. “On the record, you understand?”
Lydia blinks at him. “Of course. Now?”
“If you’re up to it. The quicker we can gather information, the better our chances of catching whoever did this before they strike again.”
“Again?” Lydia’s eyes dart involuntarily to the half-human, half-bird monstrosity, crouched in a pool of congealing blood.
“I’m sure it’s a copycat.” Alex follows her gaze, a grim look on his face. “Some sick freak picking up where Devere left off. Happens more than you’d think, idiots trying to glorify killers as if they’re celebrities or something. Like they have a fan base!”
A thought occurs to Lydia that makes her already-chilled blood freeze. “Why her?” she asks, looking at Alex, her eyes wide. “Why now? Do you think they know that I…”
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “But you’re not going anywhere without a police escort for a while.”
“Alex.” Even in these circumstances, Lydia bucks at the notion of having to be protected. “That’s not—”
“Negotiable. So get used to the idea.”
“I’m not some damsel in distress you have to save, Alex!”
“I know you’re not. You’re about one of the only few people I actually do consider my equal.”
Lydia’s jaw tenses. “I can handle myself.”
“I know you can!” Alex states, gripping her by the shoulders now. “But, I just don’t want you to have to be put in that sort of situation, any situation.” Lydia notes the sincerity in his tone as he gazes away, letting her go. “I’ll have a couple of officers take you back to the station and then, when we’re done, to a hotel. A different one.”
“But—”
“I’ll have someone fetch your things. You can’t go back there. If whoever did this has been watching you…” He doesn’t finish the thought. He doesn’t have to. Lydia remembers her dream, being bound to that table, the glinting steel blade rushing towards her eyes.
“Alright.” She looks down at the floor, visions of this poor woman’s final moments flashing through her brain at lightning speed, like an old projector.
A stocky, grey-haired officer enters the room and approaches them, unnerved eyes fixed upon the grim spectacle, and murmurs in Alex’s ear. “Forensics here.”
“Okay,” Alex replies, then as the man starts to walk away, “oh hey, Jack, can you take Lydia back to the station and get her some coffee? I’ll be along soon.”
“You bet.” He puts a large, gentle hand on Lydia’s arm and gestures towards the door with the other.
“Soon?” Lydia looks back towards Alex as she lets the officer guide her towards the exit.
“You’re going to be alright,” he says, summoning a forced smile. “I promise.”
The hollow words echo inside Lydia’s head as she turns and leaves the room, spilling out into the dim, cavernous halls of the museum as she passes through, fading, dispersing, until finally escaping like smoke into the black night.