Cirque De Sem'ya

Chapter 2 - Consequences

"Good morning sir-"

The Irishman merely nodded his response to the boy. It had been a grueling past nights of researching for any leads in the piles of cases he had taken up. This case shouldn't have been unlike any of the other murders taken up by the force. But it was the mystery behind the death itself that piqued his interest.

The body laid collapsed on the cobbled streets, surrounded by a crimson pool of his own blood. Wounds varied in placement on his body. Multiple assailants, possibly? The strangest part of the body was that the clothes were not cut from the stabbing, only blood stained his shirt like a bloody dalmatian.

"Any witnesses?" The Irishman asked, barely looking up from the body.

"One sir but-"

"Did they see anything?"

"Said he just collapsed sir, started bleedin' and just fell. No one was 'round him. Besides herself of course but she saw it from her window, you see.They says his name is Billy Kulton."

"I see..." His attention was only half on the young officer and more on the piece of paper sticking from the pockets of his trousers. In bold dark lettering the paper read "THE CIRQUE DE SEM'YA"

"What do we know about this, this circus?"

"You dunno 'bout that? It's this creepy circus show that travels 'round. You think he went there, sir?"

"What I think is that whatever this circus is, might hold some answers. Finish up here, will you? I'm going to see what we have on record for this 'Cirque De Sem'ya'."

The young officer nodded and the Irishman stalked away from the body, flicking the ticket stub aimlessly between his fingers. Crowds bustled along the streets of New York City, paying the Irishman little mind except for the few that noticed his distinct features: the Irish red hair and the force badge he wore on his chest. The first got him into fights while the other prevented it. Headquarters was blocks from the body, but that merely gave him more time to think over what he had seen. No signs of entry wounds, but given the blood, there had to be plenty. He had heard of the Cirque De Sem'ya only in whispers of people he passed in the streets, all he heard were never good things, always of darkness and fear.

"Mornin', Officer Rafferty. Where you off to now in such a hurry?" The typist behind the front desk chimed with a sweet smile that only made him smile back.

"Morning, Miss Katherine. Just off to the records room, thought I ought to do some digging for a case, nothing too much. Don't you fret now."

Her laugh danced around the halls as he passed and headed for the staircase that lead to the records hall. The room was dimly lit by the pairing of candles and the rising invention of the light bulb. Walls of shelves and cabinets lined the floor, giving off the sense of a library,, and was not too far off of a similar system. The Irishman scanned through the files, searching for anything that could bring "The Cirque De Sem'ya" into a better light.

Time seemed to be getting the best of the Irishman as his hope of finding any form of filing. There was one more row for him to check before he would turn in for the day. Buried beneath files of previous years was a small stack of papers, a single binding preventing any from going astray. Newspaper clippings, all front page headlines of a mysterious circus and it's array of eclectic performers. One stood out in particular, noting the darkness and fear the Cirque De Sem'ya prided itself upon. Nowhere in any of the clippings were the names of the Circus company, not one name to tie anyone to the events.

Carefully, the Irishman slid the new ticket stub in with the newspaper clipping and slide the flap back over. Taking the papers under his arm, he began to take his leave, noting to turn off the lamps before returning to the upper floors.

"Find what you looking for, Officer?" Miss Katherine asking curiously as he reentered from the basement.

This time he stopped at the desk to speak to her instead of continuing on his way. "Not quite, I'm almost as confused as when I came in to be frank. Out of curiosity, have you ever seen a Cirque De Sem'ya performance?"

"Me? Oh heavens no, I'm too easily frightened for that sort of thing. I'd be shaking like a leaf if I was ever there. My cousin Abigail went once when they were in town, went with her friend Joey, it was all his doing if you ask me."

"Oh really now? What'd she have to say about it?"

"She had the Dickens scared out of her, that's what she said. Like a nightmare come to life almost. It ain't like any regular circus, you see. The Ringleader is as mad as a hatter, and everyone else just takes after him. The wild animals have free range when the Lion Tamer performs and they use spectators as assistants in some acts. The whole company are a bunch of freaks, got them a Mexican and I ever heard that they've got themselves a performing Negro."

The Irishman simply nodded along with her words, until one piece in particular caught his attention. "You said that they use spectators as assistants, correct? Are there any acts that you know of that use knives or swords?"

"Oh yeah, sure. I hear they've got a whole mess of knifemen. They're just as mad as the Ringleader. The Magician used swords when Abigail went to see them, I think."

"Do you know when they will be performing next?"

"No one knows when the Circus will show, they just appear sometime out of a blink of an eye and just as fast, they gone and half way across the states if you're not paying attention."

"Thank you, Miss Katherine. That's all I needed to know. Have a good day."

"It was a pleasure speaking to you Officer, I hope I was able to lend a hand."

"You provided more help than what I found in the records hall." He gave her one last smile before heading for the front door of the Headquarters.

Evening was glimpsing over the tops of the city buildings; he had truly lost all track of time while inside. Men were returning home from the factories and shops to their families and for some, to the bars to drink away the long day. The Irishman was going to neither: he had no family in the states; he left them all in Ireland in hope of work to help them through the hardships, and he was not going for a drink: a man like him found it hard to be let into an establishment such as that. It was hard enough making a life for himself as is as things were. He barely made it by on money for food and home, let a long enough to be sending back home to mum and the kids. He had no family, no time for it and no time to be out wooing some girl into getting married. No one would want to marry a lonely Irishman who cared too much about work and the past rather than what the future held. The newest case, the Cirque De Sem'ya, held potential in his eyes; it could be the break he needed to finally settle somewhere in this world. All he needed were the right pieces to make the whole machine come to life.