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He was better than me. I wasn’t good enough—he was.
Somehow, this one man had stunned all of us into silence, none of us knowing what to do as we waited for him to start his briefing report. With this group, that wasn’t an easy feat to accomplish, but somehow Nolan had.
My words were too jumbled in my mind, it was too much chaos for one person to comprehend. So, I sat silently, praying that I was able to absorb this meeting properly; otherwise my tunneled, blurry vision and spinning head would make me as incompetent as the High Faction saw me.
“Alright, time to begin.” Nolan didn’t sit down like I expected, instead he walked over to the Investigation Board. We all spun our chairs around, the group of us now staring at him like the most rigid, at-attention audience I’d ever witnessed. “I bring you the Elliot Wells files.” Nolan opened his arms, gesturing around the room at the boxes that littered the floor. “Each one of these contains dozens of cases from the past ten years, all of them murder reports linked to this one man, Elliot Wells.”
“I’m sorry, did you say ten years?” Beckett asked.
Nolan’s jaw ticked. “Yup, this man has killed just under one hundred people over that time across Kazola. He’ll start in one Territory, wreak havoc for a time, and when the Onyx Guard finally starts to move in, he disappears for extended periods of time.” He pointed to a map of the Isle with small, red pins littering it. “His last known kill was in Ochrat just over a year ago. That was, until last week, when one of his victims appeared here in Seathra for the first time.”
“Is that a typical amount of hiding time for him?” Eden asked, her eyebrows crinkled, arms crossed as she leaned back in her chair. “Seems quite short if he moved three territories over and set up his base here.”
“It’s always varied.” Nolan said. “He’s gone underground for as long as two and a half years and as short as five months. He kills his victims by draining them of all their blood, but based on past autopsy reports, it’s in a slow, cruel way over a few days. The victims all have bruised wrists and ankles from different restraints. Then, postmortem, he brands them with a crest and then wipes down the body with liquid wolfsbane.”
“Thus, killing any potential for a Varg Ibridowyn to track him by scent.” I leaned forward in my chair, my mind already trying its best to work out the puzzle hanging before me. Now that I had something to focus on, a case that would give me a purpose, my mind began clearing of the fog that plagued it.
Nolan looked at me, his green eyes glistening, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. “Exactly. His patterns are impossible to track. He has no discernible victims either. He has killed humans, Vargs, Shrivs…even a Brido.”
My heart dropped into my stomach, a chill sweeping through my veins. I looked around the room, a sea of matching shocked expressions.
“A Brido?” Emric was the first to speak up. “How is that even possible?”
“That’s one case that has been a complete mystery to all of us.” Nolan’s posture tensed, his fingers reaching up to fiddle with a chain that hung around his neck, whatever hung at the end concealed beneath his v-neck black cotton shirt. Well, that was an interesting reaction. “Somehow, he got his hands on the Faction’s Ogdala Blade and was able to stab the Brido through the heart.”
As Ibridowyn, the genetic modifications we underwent helped to make us almost impossible to kill. However, the Alchemists had found that it was against the God and Goddess’s will for creatures to be invincible, that everyone must have a weakness. So, they’d tethered our life to one weapon, The Ogdala Blade. This rare blade was made from a carved piece of Fuiliwood, the strongest tree in Kazola, and then encased in Iona Silver, the purest metal. Where Varg Anwyns could be killed by any form of silver and Shrivikas by any type of wood, we could only be killed by these specific types, and only when they were combined together.
They were so rare, only forty daggers existed: one at each Faction Compound, one for each High Faction Member, and one at each of the Alchemist Labs where the genetic modification procedures occurred. They were well protected, kept under lock and key and only taken out in case of emergencies.
So, how in the Goddess did this killer get his hands on the most unique weapon in Kazola?
I knew that weapon well. I had held it in my hands. I had used it to do a terrible thing…
My fingers clenched underneath the table, my mind plagued with dark memories, my breath going ragged for a moment before I evened it back out. I would not let that happen. This was not the time to remember.
I found something to distract myself with instead: the case.
“How do you know his name?” I asked.
Nolan’s shoulders relaxed a bit, fingers continuing to twist the chain near the base of his throat. “Because on some of his victims, he likes to leave the Guards a little note. Not on every one, but some, and they are always signed ‘Your New Friend, Elliot Wells’. Plenty of Factions have tried to do digs and checks into anyone using that name and have turned up empty. Now he just needs to leave the branding for us to know who it is.”
“Classic narcissistic behavior,” Liv said, rubbing her chin, plush lips parted.
“Pretty much,” Nolan scoffed. “I suggest all of you take a box of files and start studying the details of each case. We never know when he is going to strike or how long it will be between his kills. We could have a victim show up later today or it could be weeks from now, but no matter when it happens, you all need to be caught up so we can start hunting this bastard down.”
I nipped at the inside of my cheek, eyes narrowing. Something about his rigid stance and fiddling fingers mixed with the extra venom laced in all of his words piqued my interest. He was trying his best to hide it, to act professional, but as we continued on with the briefing, it was starting to leak out. I might have just met him, but based on our introduction only a little while ago, I had a good feeling he wasn’t one to get easily agitated—and if he did, he could hide it with little effort. So, what about this was causing it to seep from him slowly?
Interesting.
“Where is the most recent victim’s body? I would like to have it transferred here,” Beckett said, no one batting an eye at his request. He was a trained physician, so with high priority cases he always completed the autopsies. It was a wonderful perk since we received vital information much quicker than if a local clinic or physician completed it.
Nolan wasn’t even fazed by the request. “Of course. The victim was found in Ballaterr, so we’ll have to contact the outpost in that area to have her transferred here, but I do believe the autopsy was already conducted.”
“I’d still like to have her here, just in case comparisons need to be made or they missed something,” Beckett said. “I’ll contact them when I get back to my office.”
“Wonderful.” Nolan clapped his hands together. “That should be all the major details, the rest are better discovered in personal research. Please feel free to come to me with any questions or leads you may have, but besides that, you’re all dismissed.”
Everyone looked around, unsure if he really meant it or if it was a trick. Finally, Beckett stood up first, grabbed one of the stacked boxes, and walked out the door. Everyone else followed, finding a box to take with them before they silently left the room.
