The Dragon at the Edge of The Map

Chapter 1

Monique climbed the last set of stairs to her fifth floor apartment. She made herself a promise to get in better shape. She shouldn't be out of breath, even with the smoking. It was a week until her birthday, another year gone. This birthday was a milestone, for her, not for most people. Thirty-six, half her life lived before what her father had done, and half her life after. If you could call what she did living, perhaps it was just surviving.

The gig tonight had been great. The glow of appreciation from the audience still warmed her. It was two am, but maybe Rafe would still be awake, maybe the night didn't have to end. Maybe the void would be filled for a little while longer.

Sorting her apartment key to the top of the ring, she pushed open the stairwell door. The sight at the end of the hall, across from her own apartment, stopped her from taking the next step. Two men in overcoats and cheap suits stood staring through the open door of her neighbor's apartment. The stairwell door slammed behind her, and both men turned to stare.

Police. She reached behind her for the door, not sure why she felt the need to flee, but already thinking of where she'd go.

A uniformed cop stepped out of the apartment and whispered something to one of the men. The other took a step toward her. He held out his ID and she saw a shield on the card, one she didn't recognize. It didn't matter, they were obviously cops; she'd learned to recognize the attitude.

"Ma'am, this floor is closed."

Monique shook her head and stepped forward. No one was going to tell her she couldn't get into her home. She needed a shower, and a meal. "I live there," she said, pointing to her door. "What's going on?"

The detective – he must be a detective that kind of suit was almost a uniform for them – made a comment to his partner. Monique couldn't make out the words but she figured it was something to do with making her go away. He turned back and said, "If you would like to answer a few questions, we can let you into your apartment."

He looked reasonable, and Monique didn't have anything to hide. She shoved away a little voice that told her to call a lawyer before talking to them, that the last time she'd talked to a detective it hadn't turned out well. "Sure, let's get this over with."

She tried not to look through the open door as she passed. She hated the kind of people who slowed down to look at accidents. She told herself that whatever was in there wouldn't be good. But her head turned almost as though someone had moved it for her. The uniformed cop pulled the door shut, but it was too late. She'd seen.

There was a lot of blood and a body. He, or maybe it, now that he was dead, was broken apart like someone had taken an ax and chopped him into two pieces at the waist.

Monique closed her eyes and slipped her key into the lock, feeling the presence of the cops behind her, reassuring now instead of threatening. She glanced at the mirror in the hall, needing to know what the cops were seeing. Her normally pale skin looked dull, reflecting the shock she felt from the scene across the hall, her green eyes shining from behind her messy bangs.

The shaking was already starting. She clenched her fist to keep the panic from taking over. It stopped the trembling, but didn't wipe out the vision of all the blood. She could handle this. She'd handled worse. She had to keep it together. Swallowing the bile percolating in the back of her throat, Monique pointed to the stools at the kitchen counter and turned on the coffee pot. She held up two mugs in query, and both detectives nodded. "Okay, what do you want to ask?"

"Thanks," the first detective said. "I'm Detective Watson, Larry. This is my partner, Mike Adams." The other cop, younger than Watson, nodded. "Let's start with your name?"