Page 7 of The City Of Fractured Memory

“Is this some sort of joke?” I snarl, and he flutters into the air and shakes back and forth with a firm denial.

“Then who sent this message?” I demand, and he dives to the parchment again, writing out his response in his own handwriting.

I know not of these things, you know this.

I sigh heavily. He’s right. Unless someone signs a message with their name, it’s untraceable. But no matter, I know there’s only one person it could be. Stryx seems to be following my line of thought as her brows furrow with concern.

“It is him, isn’t it? How did he know what we were talking about?” She starts pacing, her ears twitching and pushing back flush against her head in panic. “He must either be following you, or…wait. What if––what if he’s a seer?”

My head perks up at that. A seer. Could that be how he’s been tracking me? One thing I know for certain is that he’s real, and the Chief needs to know.

“I’m going to the Division. Now,” I announce, grabbing the scroll up off the floor on my way to the door, but Stryx blocks my path.

“It’s barely dawn, Octavia. You’ve been up all night and you’re exhausted,” she presses, raising her eyebrow as she looks pointedly at my shaking legs. “Has your ring run out of power?”

The adrenaline I’ve been feeling has been doing a good job of masking my pain, but now that I am aware of it, I feel it more than ever. Before I can answer, she grabs my hand and observes the small ring on my middle finger. The glyphs etched onto it that usually hum with a faint orange glow are now lying dormant. In all the madness of the night, I hadn’t realised the magic had faded. No wonder my joints are protesting.

Without a word, Stryx runs a finger over the ring and her soft blue aura escapes her, the light flowing like a waterfall into the glyphs which start to glow again. Thank the Gods for my friend; if I didn’t have access to her Echofae magic, I would have to charge them myself using illegal magic or worse––stolen magic bottled on the black market in the Aethermere quarter.

The second the glyphs are charged, the inflammation in my joints lessens and they feel more stabilised, the grinding easing. My bones remember where they belong, if only for a little while. I exhale heavily as the fog in my brain fuelled by the pain slowly evaporates and I can think more clearly. But it only serves to make me more determined than ever.

“I’m going to the Chief, Stryx. This is serious. If Corvus is back–”

“What happened the last time you told the Chief about him?” she interrupts, throwing her hands in the air. “He said someone was playing tricks on you to distract you from the case. He didn’t believe you!”

She’s right. I’ve had no support from anyone other than Stryx in this. Even Xavier has kept quiet about it, refusing to voice his opinion. The one case I couldn’t solve, and the one that got me fired, all because of this mysterious Corvus. It happened right in front of me, I was an eye witness, and yet I still have no evidence to show for it.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and mentally run through the events of the case, trying to find something that could link him to this new murder…

I walked down the dingy and cracked cobbled streets of Aethermere, mortals slinking past me in various cloaks and disguises. I hated coming to this quarter, but I sometimes had no choice but to visit The Maw, where the black market magic and trinkets were bartered. I’d just secured myself a new talisman to help calm my racing thoughts, though the price the man had bartered was steep. An absolute rip-off, but I needed it desperately, and he knew it.

I gazed up at the sky, the sun giving off a reddish glow through the mists of the Veil and casting the streets in an ominous light. A scream drew my attention and I whipped round to find a crowd of mortals gathered around a group of twenty Echofae slaves, marked by the silver collars around their necks. The second I caught them in my sights, they vanished on the wind, seemingly turned to mist. Not a trace of them left behind. That was when I heard the scream again.

I shouldered my way through the crowd and when I reached the front I found one Echofae remaining, a Kaelvara lion shifter judging by his jet black skin, so dark his white eyes and hair almost seemed to glow. He was on the floor, bleeding profusely from a deep slice to his throat. I ran to him, throwing myself to the ground with a painful protest from my knees. If I got caught using magic to try and heal a slave, I would be imprisoned, so I grabbed my scarf and pushed it to his throat to help stem the bleeding, but by the fading of his eyes, I could tell I was too late.

“Who did this to you? What happened to the others?” I asked desperately, trying to push hard enough to stop the bleeding without accidentally suffocating him. His eyes widened as he took in my appearance, recognition in his gaze, though I could not say how or why. He grabbed my arm tight and pulled me close.

“F–find Cor…” he gargled, the blood getting lodged in his mouth. I gently pulled him more upright into my arms and he choked down on the blood. I stared at him imploringly, urging him to answer so I could make the perpetrator pay. His hooded eyes turned to me once more, and he fisted his hands in my cloak, pulling me even closer.

“Find Corvus,” he growled in my ear, before inhaling sharply and falling back limply.

I fumbled desperately for a pulse, but there was none. He was lost to the Veil. I’d never had someone die on my watch before, not like this. His lifeless eyes stared accusingly back up at me, and nausea churned in my stomach. Guilt washed through me in an unending wave, threatening to push me under and drown me, but I stubbornly fought my way back enough to think.

I slumped back onto my heels and gazed at my surroundings, trying to find some sort of evidence even in my numb state.

I shudder at the memory. I don’t think I could survive something like that happening again. I’m so used to seeing dead bodies, I had previously assumed something like that wouldn’t phase me. But that night I had discovered that having someone die in your arms hits very different, the cold detachment I often feel at crime scenes replaced with a horror I’ve never been able to wash away since.

I try to concentrate hard on the memory, but as always, there’s nothing that stands out that can lead me to any conclusions. Xavier had been first on the scene after me, and I’d told him what the Kaelvara had said. He’d gone silent, and I remember the spark of hope that had ignited in me, thinking he recognised who Corvus was, but a moment later, he had shaken his head, just as clueless as me. The notes had started that very night, finding one stuck to my door when I eventually arrived home.

Find me if you can –C

The next day, a similar note had been delivered by Eidolon Moth, then another a few days after that. All of them taunting, sometimes cryptic, but never any help.

I sigh heavily, knowing I have to take this to the Chief, but dreading his reaction. He can’t ignore me this time though, surely? The notes stopped coming a few months ago, so for them to start again after another murder…This can’t be a coincidence.

I open my mouth to insist Stryx move out of my way, but before I can speak she shifts, her huge floating Irithys form completely blocking the door. I cross my arms impatiently, tired of her damn coddling. I may be in pain still, but with my ring’s magic restored, I’m perfectly able to function through it.

Minutes go by but she still doesn’t relent. As determined as I am, I decide it’s not worth the argument, so I uncross my arms and take a step back, watching her shift back into her humanoid form as I do.