Interlude 9 - Rey

Rey sat there, looking ahead with an unfocused gaze. The ticking of the old clock lulled him into a trance-like state, letting his thoughts flow freely. And they flowed to the same place they had been going for the past month: magic. It was real. He had seen it in action. He’d seen a man hurl fire and death like in the movies he’d watched growing up, and the world changed for him, became a place he couldn’t make sense of.

“Honey?” A voice came from the background, distant and muted, unable to break through the wall of anxious thoughts in his head.

“Honey!” shouted the person, and he finally turned, only to see his wife with concern written all over her face. She wore that expression more and more lately. No matter how he tried to tell her everything was all right, she always knew when he was lying.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t you leave for work?” she asked, glancing at the clock.

Rey finally looked at the clock and noticed he was running late. “Shit.” He hurried to pack his things.

After a few minutes of chaotic running around the house, he was finally sitting in his cruiser, ready to go to work. He looked into the car mirror and saw his own tired face. There were more gray hairs in his short, military-style cut. The lines on his face were deeper, but the strength never left his eyes—not even after Cecil’s death. He was sad, but he had lost contact with his old friend long ago. No, it wasn’t the death that was on his mind, but what caused it.

Ever since that night, he’d seen strangeness in the cases. Every crime begged the question of whether it was a mutant or a mage hiding behind it. However, that uneasiness lessened two weeks ago, when all of the strange cases just… disappeared.

Their documents, the reports, everything, were moved to some outside organization and vanished without a trace. If there were physical evidence, then men in black suits would come and collect it. None would answer any questions, and Rey wasn’t going to be asking them. Some of the others in his precinct weren’t happy about that.

The territorial wars of agencies weren’t pleasant, but Rey assumed it was the strange world of magic. Were people like Samuel taking care of them? The man was helpful, but Rey always trusted his instincts, and they were telling him Samuel was a monster in his own right. And Rey didn’t want anything to do with monsters, so each time a strange report disappeared and a new case was assigned out of nowhere, he happily let it go without any questions.

He arrived at the precinct and got to the paperwork, hoping for a quiet day. However, his hopes were not fulfilled, as an urgent call for all available units came around halfway through the day: multiple homicides in a gang’s hideout. It was a shit show. Rey got into his cruiser and, after a few minutes of waiting for his partner, they went to the scene.

Once they arrived, many people were already there, most of them from evidence collection. Medics were also to the side, but there was no urgency in their movements. Everyone was already dead—no injuries.

To his surprise, he saw his commandant talking with someone dressed like a character from an old detective movie. The man must have gotten the call earlier—but why?

“Rey!” shouted the commandant when their gazes met. “Come here,” he said and then turned to the man. “He’s my best man,” Rey heard the commandant praise him.

Once he approached his boss, he gave him a short command. “I want you to go inside and tell me what you think.”

“What will I be looking at?”

“Multiple homicide. Someone raided the hideout. It’s the East Razors.”

“East Razors?” Rey asked back, clearly surprised. “Fuck… don't tell me we will have another gang war?”

“Not likely.” The man shook his head.

“Why? An attack on a hideout like that—”

“There are no survivors.”

Rey winced. Was this another strange one?

“The gang leaders were having a secret meeting. Someone walked in and massacred all of them. The remnants will be taken over by others in the area. The Razors are most likely done.”

“Good riddance,” said one of the policemen listening to the conversation. “Violent fucks got what they deserved.”

“Yeah, instead we have someone capable of just walking in and massacring them. Wouldn’t call it a good change.”

Rey just nodded and walked into the building. It was a house in the suburbs turned into a hideout and drug den. He had to admit—they did a good job covering it. From the outside, there was nothing that stood out: no prostitutes walking around, no junkies. It was most likely a meeting place and distribution center.

The first thing Rey thought he would smell was blood and gunpowder. But to his surprise, the iron scent was missing. There was some gunpowder in the air, but not very strong. He furrowed his brow and walked in. The bodies were still there, with some evidence marked and lab rats taking photos.

There were also bullet holes, but something was off. There was no blood. Did they use gas?

“What killed them?” he asked one of the lab people around.

Before the answer came, a loud, older, commanding voice interrupted.

“All of you, leave,” said the man.

Rey turned around just to see an FBI badge right in front of his nose. It was held by the older man who had previously talked with his boss. His body was well built despite his age; gray hair and white stubble marked his chin. His eyes were lively and intelligent. He was dressed in a long black coat, slightly out of date, and wore a gray fedora.

Back in the day, he would have argued the order, but now? He happily moved aside.

“Not you,” said the older man. “Reymond, I presume. I heard good things from your boss. I would like to hear what you think about it, and I need someone to help me.”

Rey sighed and nodded. The old man then moved to the side and pointed at a young man in a wheelchair, who sat behind him. He looked to be in his twenties and wore neat gray trousers and a white sweater. He had black, neatly combed hair that still needed a haircut.

Rey didn’t question it as he lifted the wheelchair over the step and past a body lying in the hallway.

“Thank you,” said the kid, clearly embarrassed. “My name’s Josh, by the way. And this is Filip,” he said, pointing at the older man.

“Rey. A pleasure.”

As he carried the young man in, he could hear some of the lab people grumble about contaminating the scene, but he was happy to ignore them.

“Please place him in the middle and lead him wherever he points you—even if it is upstairs,” Filip said.

“Sure,” Rey answered.

“And…” The man hesitated, looking to the new arrival.

“We can't wait any longer. I told you he would quit,” Josh reassured him.

“Fine,” Filip relented, turning to Rey. “It might be slightly weird, but I want you to follow along. It’s crucial.”

“Okay,” Rey confirmed, feeling the weight in his stomach drop. He was more and more sure he had stumbled into something he shouldn’t have.

“You sure about it?” Josh asked.

“Please. We need the confirmation.”

“Fine,” he sighed.

Josh then closed his eyes, and Rey could see his breathing slow. He stiffened and started to grimace as his body twitched more and more—then went still.

“Catch him!” shouted Filip.

Before Rey could think about what he meant, the young man took a hasty, loud breath and almost fell forward out of the wheelchair as he spasmed. Sweat covered his body, and Rey watched him go paler and paler.

“I’ll get the medic,” Rey shot back, but was stopped by the older man.

“No need. He’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” wheezed the young man.

“You sure?” Rey asked, hoping to be away from whatever it was that was happening here.

“Yes. So—” The older man turned to Josh. “What did you see?”

“Really? What do you think?”

“Please. I’m sorry to have you do this again.”

“No, you’re not… It was, as always, with those cases. I try to see—I see their deaths, I see the room, I see the power—but then, when it walks in… I can’t. The moment I looked at it, it’s like it looked back, like it sees me in my own vision, and I woke, afraid... Happy?”

“So it’s him,” Filip said.

“We don’t know shit! I can’t see the person—it’s like they are behind a veil. We don’t know it’s even one man.”

The old man insisted, with a mix of excitement, fear, and determination in his voice: “It’s him. The Veiled Man. Can you try to look into it without gazing at him? Just tell us how they died.”

The two talked—the older man getting excited—completely ignoring Rey’s presence. Rey was out. Now he was sure this was something otherworldly. He made a move to walk out, but his movement brought Filip’s gaze.

“Oh. Sorry about that.”

“Sure. Can I go? Or will you need me for something more?”

“Yes—I still need help with the wheelchair. I can’t lift him.”

Rey groaned, starting to think up an excuse, as the older man gave Josh a water bottle. They waited for some time for the kid’s breath to stabilize, and once he looked better, with some color returning to his face, he once again closed his eyes and slowed his breath.

After some time, he started to frown as groans came from his lips, but there was no seizure. Instead, the kid spoke in a tired voice, as if struggling.

“It is the middle of the night. They are keeping watch as the bosses talk. There are ten armed men here—five upstairs—and then four bosses in a room, talking. They are relaxed. It’s their territory. Other gangs are afraid. Then a knock comes. They are surprised. One of the men goes to look through the door, and then he—” Josh froze. “He just opens it without any question. Th… that thing—”

Rey could see him struggle more.

“Don’t look at the darkness. Tell me what you see around them, their feelings, anything,” Filip said in an even, calming voice.

“I can’t see the man… but he kills the one before the door. I don’t know how. They pick up their weapons—they shoot—they empty magazines—but it’s just standing there, unbothered.” Rey saw the old man frown as the kid spoke. “It’s amused by them. Then two more die—helpless. Other men come due to the gunshots, but the thing—they can’t kill it. They can’t even pick up their weapons. It kills them one by one. They are terrified. They want to run, but they can’t. Anyone who tries just… I don’t know—they can’t. The thing likes their fear. No—it… it…” he started sweating once again.

“Don’t look at it. You don’t have to read it.”

“No. It… their fear—it serves a purpose. It’s more than just the thing’s amusement. It… I—I—it’s looking right at me.”

“Stop looking at it. Turn around!” shouted the old man.

“I—” The kid went quiet for some time before his breath calmed once again. “It kills everyone here without any hesitation. It then goes upstairs,” he said, turning to the stairs, his eyes still closed. The old man commanded Rey to move the wheelchair to where the boy was pointing.

“And does the same to all the men on the way. One by one. They can’t even fight back. There are no gunshots. It then goes after the bosses. All four of them fall—but one is still alive—and… that’s it.”

“Four? You sure?” asked the older man as he looked over the room.

“Yes. Why?” the boy asked back, now once again out of the trance-like state.

“We are missing one body, then.”

The FBI agent thanked Rey and gave him a chance to ask questions, assuring him they would provide some explanation, but, to their surprise, he didn’t ask any. He knew magic when he saw it. So after whatever had happened was over, Rey was happy to evacuate, hoping it would be the end of it.

But things rarely worked out for him lately.

“Sorry for the strange show. But you took it quite well… We recently lost an associate and need someone mainly to help move Josh around. Your commendation spoke very highly of you. Great instincts, he said, so if—” the man was clearly making an offer, but Rey interrupted him.

“Thank you, but I just want to continue normally until my retirement. So I’m sorry, but I have to decline whatever the offer,” he said firmly.

He saw the old man hesitate, but relented.

***

Sadly for Rey, things never worked out like that. Two days later, he was called to the commissar’s office. Apparently, there would be a manhunt for some killer, and the case was big enough for a multi-department action to begin. That meant local police precincts were to send their best man for a briefing with the big, bad FBI—and to Rey’s annoyance, that meant him.

He was called to an FBI bureau in Los Angeles and, after clearing security, was led to a large conference room. There were other policemen there, a few of whom he recognized. The rest were agents in suits, all very important-looking, not speaking to the everyday policemen. Not like he was hoping for a conversation anyway.

He also noticed the older FBI man to the side, but without the kid in the wheelchair.

Once everyone was gathered, a very important-looking middle-aged man in the most expensive suit in the whole room walked to the center and took the stage.

“Welcome. As you might have heard, we are here to coordinate a manhunt—although that is not entirely true, as we don’t really know much about the man we will be hunting.” He looked over everyone. Rey noticed his tone was rather strange, as if he wasn't too happy about the meeting either. “In the following days, we will attempt to create a usable profile of our killer, but make no mistake, this will be a tough case, and I will expect some extra hours put in. We don’t know much about the killer, but we suspect him to be responsible for between thirty and fifty murders that we know of…” The man let his voice hang in the air as everyone started murmuring.

That was a large number. Even Rey had to say it surprised him despite his experience on the job.

“We don’t know his face, his motives, his ways. We don’t know… much,” he said, and then looked to the older FBI man—his gaze questioning, with an undertone of anger. The older man held that gaze and then nodded slightly, to which the one on the podium sighed slightly. “Make no mistake, we are likely after one of the most prolific serial killers in the history of America. And all that we have connecting the cases is the way he kills: a single attack made by a sharp, piercing object, to the back of the head.”