A/N
Totally random thought, but I just realized. When I was 16, I was writing about characters in their 20s and now that I'm in my 20s, I'm writing characters in their teenage years. Wow, weird. Thank you for reading!
"How's her vital statistics?" Isla wasted no seconds to ask the nurse in shift upon entering Abigail's hospital room guarded by a few constables at the door.
"She's stabilized, Lady Cecil," the nurse replied. "Blood pressure and heart rate are monitored closely."
Isla felt her worries eased, "Any injuries?"
"Internal bleeding from a mild liver laceration, Miss," the nurse smiled as she glanced at the future head, the detective, and the patient. "Patient should remain in bed until the tests show bleeding has stopped. I will come back again to check on her."
A new and uplifting thought dawned on Isla. "Thank you." The nurse nodded before leaving.
They hovered over Abigail as she stirred awake. Isla quickly switched the lamp off, leaving just a dime of the yellowy one above the headboard. It took Abigail a while to collect her thoughts and realized where she was.
"Isla?" Abigail's eyes had no light in them, giving Isla an alarm for concern. She barely recognized Abigail's voice. It came so airily and weak.
"I'm right here," she said in a grievous tone. "Everything's okay. You are fine." Her reassuring voice contradicted with the painful look on her face.
Abigail tried to sit up, but Isla stopped her. Her purple eyes were not the same without their usual mischievous sparkle.
"You'd better rest some more."
"No, no, I must tell you, before I forget."
"Very well then," Isla said, sitting down next to her and grasping the shorter girl's hand. "Abigail, have you any recollections about what occurred?"
Forehead creasing, Abigail looked around in confusion. The Detective Inspector leaned by the door of the room, patiently listening. Abigail suddenly had no memory of coming to this place. "I... I don't remember. I know the memory was in here somewhere... I was about to tell you! It was like a record that had been scratched or the burned film that gave out images in a disoriented view."
Isla inhaled sharply. "You were drowning and you said someone pushed you."
"Yes, yes... someone did."
"Who was it, Abigail?"
Abigail's facial muscles tightened, she bowed her head in shame. "I don't remember."
"What about the silhouette? Was it a man or a woman?"
"I can't tell." Something just clicked together, as if her intelligent light bulb just switched on. "It was like someone one who blended well in shadows. I can't help but feel there's some hideous truth lurking in a dark corner of my mind. I remember Henri. He was carrying me, trying to get me away from danger. He managed so far... until his knees gave in and then dropped me to the ground."
Isla grasped the girl's cold and shaking hands, "Anything else, Abigail?"
The girl searched Isla's face in panic. "I remember jumping."
"Jumping?"
"Yes, jumping!" Abigail gripped Isla's arm harder than ever. "However it was not of my own volition. It feels like I was possessed; like I was watching my body being controlled by someone else, a mere puppet on strings!"
A flicker of fear flashed her face. Isla hissed. "Abigail, you are hurting me..."
Abigail's free arm reached for Isla's crown as her voice raised an octave higher. Isla managed to dodge the evading hand a little. She saw a stray strand of her hair between Abigail's fingers that was pulled in the commotion.
As more words came out of her mouth, Isla felt like Abigail was so close to tearing her skin. If not for the Detective Inspector pulling them apart, Isla couldn't get out of Abigail's vice-like grip.
"You should rest, kid." She said with a low growl.
Tears began to fall from her eyes. "Y-yeah, I should. I... feel tired all of a sudden." Abigail held onto the piece of DNA like a lifeline.
The Detective Inspector pulled Isla out of the room and into the white tiled floor and white painted wall hallway. Isla gasped in horror upon inspecting her arm. Abigail's fingernail had torn some of her skin. Now it looks like angry claw marks given by a cat.
"She seemed so shaken." DI Soleil observed.
"She was on the verge of death, I would be too." Isla ran a finger over her torn skin.
"She's a necessary witness. She's valuable. But, she's traumatized. I will have to send some more coppers to guard over her, also some psychiatrist to help her recover. It would be distasteful if the girl is harmed by the killer or by herself. I have to know though, Isla. Have you any idea why they were targeted?"
"They were close to me." Isla didn't miss a beat.
"Really?" the older woman's brow furrowed. "If I were them, I should have gone straight to you."
"Either to scare me or to play a game," Isla paused, reiterating to herself what she had just thought.
"Oh Isla," she chuckled. "I didn't know you were such a threat."
Isla saw dripping sarcasm from her words. "But why would she kill Henri and not Abigail? It wasn't difficult to connect the dots."
"Murder alone makes no sense, but perhaps an accidental killing. A clandestine dalliance went wrong, per se."
A flash of memory hit Isla like lightning. "You mean... Before Henri and I separated ways, he placed a tracking device on Evonnie's hood jacket. He was on a stakeout for my entire wellbeing."
"Evonnie?" DI Soleil asked. "You mean Evonnie Lu? The girl the late Kinsley's laid their injustice? You lost me by mentioning Henri De Ferrers spied on her."
Isla had dived into the deluded depths of her reasoning mind. She ignored the older woman as she fit the puzzles together. "Yes, after Evonnie and I were together, he followed Evonnie somewhere, and perhaps Abigail was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"I don't know what the fuck you were referring to but that sounds like too much of a coincidence." She crossed her arms together, reprimanding. "Even if your line of reasoning is plausible that Alessandra Adams is the killer we're searching for, there has to be a reason why Abigail Mackson is warranted by her wrath."
"I made Abigail poke around into her past."
DI Soleil gaped, blinking. "You... did... WHAT?"
"Along with Evonnie's actually; perhaps Abigail found something that she had to act quickly."
"Isla Cecil! That was unprecedented and stupid! You hired an informant without guaranteeing her safety, I expected much from you."
She stared at the taller woman, unfazed with the raised voice. "I know you interviewed all the staff when you're investigating, but never underestimate the power of downstairs gossip. Abigail happens to be good at retrieving them and exterminating all possible risks to her safety."
"Exterminate risks you say," she rolled her eyes. "Yeah right, look where that got her."
"Something must have gone wrong somewhere? And besides, it's just background checking, it wasn't supposed to be a perilous mission. I don't suppose you know why they specifically targeted Henri and Abigail then?"
"We might be asking the wrong question." Soleil crossed her arms. "We don't know where Henri and Abigail were taken, we don't know what went on with them, and we don't have any physical evidence that ties us to our killer. They have been planning this for a while. Whoever killed all those boys and tried to kill Abigail Mackson is a ghost who doesn't want to be found."
"Then what's the right question?"
"Who is Evonnie Lu, and what does she mean to our ghost?"
"Inspector, you are agreeing with me that Evonnie Lu is our connection to the killer." She placed a hand on her heart in mock happiness. "Can it be true? Do you finally?"
DI Soleil rolled her eyes, but she was being serious when she said. "Yes, I must admit, Evonnie Lu adds up. And besides, I've observed the pattern of known serial killers in the past 30 years. We're dealing with someone new who's very creative in her modus operandi. Share the information you retrieved from Miss Lu while we look at a different perspective. But I must say, good work, fellow sleuth."
A small pat on the back seemed to serve as no feat but it made a smile quickly dance on her lips. Isla placed a deliberate finger on her chin. "May I see Henri's farewell message again?"
The Detective Inspector sighed and grabbed a handy copy of her case files on her phone's cloud, "Here."
"Here's my version of what happened, Isla." DI Soleil said. "What if Abigail, being a gossip fodder, was merely just killer's latest victim and it's just by sheer happenstance that Ferrers stumbled upon the scene, while he's investigating or spying this Evonnie Lu."
Isla's eyes swam onto the pictures on the phone while listening to her. Her fingers zoomed in and swiped as she meticulously searched for anything out of the ordinary. With an intake of breath, she said. "This isn't his penmanship."
"I beg your pardon?"
Isla zoomed into the photo. "I hadn't noticed it before because I was preoccupied with his state. This isn't his penmanship, I'm sure of it. His penmanship isn't that eligible when using cursive. Look at the swirls."
"Huh," the older woman smirked. "We should take a great analysis with his other writings then. So, we have a slight chance to think his death was murder. You mentioned he talked to you yesterday, what did he say?"
Isla didn't need to dwell further; she could remember it clear as day. It was a code.
She repeated the same words to her before cursing under her breath. "By Jove Henri, Why didn't you ask for my help?"
"Sounds like he's preparing for danger, like all idiots do." she sneered. "Also, Isla less I forget, I have a better informant who you might want to work with at school."
"Who is this blessed person?" Isla crossed her arms.
"Me!"
A jolly scream from behind came surprisingly. It made Isla jolt, her mouth to forming the name, "Amani?"
"Sorry I'm late, I couldn't find my shoes." The Fortuna News Network President and reporter grinned at her. She was barefooted though and started narrating in her recorder in substitute of her microphone. "Scotland Yard: home of the world's most famous detective force specializes in the training of detectives and the way it investigates the crime. It is the cutting edge of crime detection. Detective Inspector Soleil Rockwell of the Yard, the Jane Tennison of the Met Detectives arrived at what she believes to be the first crime scene—Zac Kinsley's murder. Further clues are emerging. She finds herself in trouble, asking for assistance from a recreational sleuth. By now, the serial killer believed himself to be above the law. As young Consulting Detective Isla arrived at the latest crime scene, the scenery gives her grisly clues. Cecil knows what's happening but solid evidence is missing. Their only hope is to catch her criminal opponent red-handed. This is a huge case that will make or break her."
Isla couldn't believe her eyes and stared at the Detective Inspector. "So you two have been working since the beginning?"
"Uhh no," Amani said, pausing her recorder then stretching her legs apart as if she was practicing for a split. "The first article I wrote about Zac and his chums was information I got when Harper Anderson helped me steal the files on the Inspector's desk."
Isla merely sent her a disapproving look while DI Soleil shrugged. "I found incriminating evidence that led me to her and now I gave her a proposition to work for me instead of punishing her for stealing."
"Isn't that illegal?" Isla asked.
The taller woman handed Isla some files she kept from inside her suit. "Amani's legal and here's a nondescript disclosure she signed."
As Isla inspected the papers, "To the journalist's great delight, I must say."
"Oh my, Isla, it sounds like you doubt my investigative journalism."
"Trust me, I had never doubted your investigative skills, I distrusted your handling with information. You tend to be sensationalist and sometimes outright dishonest. What do you have to say for yourself, Amani?"
Amani shrugged. "I did it so that the Newspaper club in Fortuna will continue running. Our club was on the verge of death you know."
"That sounds to me like you fail to capture your viewer's attention. And I don't suppose writing the relations about the Cecils and Ferrers, for instance, is only one-quarter factual with the remaining three-quarters being a pure fabrication. Are you trying to get me in your crosshairs, Amani?"
"True, nothing ever good and important happens in Fortuna, after all, that's why I started publishing that 'sounds like your typical romance scam' thing."
"Alas, I assure you the odds of one of our high school students romantically involved with another college student from Neos Athens University is as zero percent as my relationship with Henri!"
"Those days are over, Isla! Have you heard what I just said before? Have you read my articles lately? I've greatly improved! Something good is finally happening to Salisbury and the academy! This is when my skill will shine! A journalist's work is never done."
DI Soleil chuckled at their exchange. "Amani's an enthusiastic recruit. Not the type to let a dead body get in the way of her naked ambition."
"Fine," Isla said. "Nevertheless, these disputable procedures of yours must not hinder our way of finding the truth."
"Good work, Isla. You're finally warming up to her." The older woman said, patting her shoulder before addressing her informant. "What have you found so far about Jermaine De Ferrers and why he didn't respond immediately when he was informed of his son's death?"
"Other than the fact he doesn't favor minorities in the name of politics?" Amani asked. "He paid a visit to Lord Jacquard after attending Parker Hurley's funeral, and he was bedridden for a while."
"Lord Jacquard Plantagenet, Baron of Old Sarum, the wealthy shareholder?" The Detective Inspector asked while cocking her left eyebrow in disbelief. "My, my, what business did he have with Lord Jacquard then?"
"Asides from the crookedness, Lord Jacquard is an alleged crime lord of illegal cocaine, another business maybe?" Amani spoke while imitating how she had maneuvered the line. "Or the Earl of Derby has found himself loving powdered donuts?"
"Well, whatever's going on, it's suspicious. I must pay both a visit." DI Soleil deliberated before sending a look at Isla's way. "You don't need to come with me. If I haven't any luck questioning them, I will send you next."
Isla seethed a conspicuous strain on her jaw. "Right, I'm certain the Earl wouldn't want to see me once he learns why. I will try my luck searching for the mysterious penmanship in the meantime. Since it came with a bouquet with wrappings exactly like the ones Parker has, I'm heading back to a certain flower shop."
"Excellent work, Isla, keep your eyes and ears open. Also, you two might be too busy this week. It's the last week of the semester, isn't it?"
Amani turned on her recorder once again. "Consulting Detective Isla Cecil may have aspired from the fictional sleuth Sherlock Holmes, but every superhero needs her nemesis. And if Cecil is Sherlock, then the Yard is soon to face her arch-enemy—A real-life Moriarty. But there's a higher chance that our Sherlock isn't facing a Moriarty but a Ripper instead. In the context of the history of serial killing, the Ripper murders are absolutely the granddaddy of them all. Jack the Ripper embodies everything that we currently associate with the concept of a serial killer. However, Cecil seems to have the notion that the serial killer is a female student of Fortuna. Certain facts are undisputed. In reality, men commit more violent crimes than women, and women are more often victims of violence than perpetrators. Not that sex differences play no part in violent expression. The neurobiological research overwhelmingly suggests that there are sex-specific differences in response to stress, abuse, and other environmental variables—"
"I won't hesitate to destroy that recording, Amani. Mark my words."
It was nightfall. One of the most bittersweet times of day, as the glorious, iridescent sky slowly darkened. The fiery, protective sun died as it descends, depriving the heavens of its protective light. Over time, it disappears into the horizon; the ever-changing sky slowly becomes a cancerous black color.
The serene moon and a few faithful stars are all that illuminate the darkened world. The beauties of these other celestial bodies are grand in their own right, but unworthy replacements for the blinding bringer of dawn.
Long has night fallen in Isla's world, and she will never see the sunrise again like before. Isla's neck snapped with a force as she turned, hunting for Henri. He was holding a knife and Isla felt it punch through his neck, a clean-cut through and through. He dropped behind her, clawing at his open jugular.
A swoop of panic nearly rooted her to the spot, but someone dragged her awake.
Isla cringed in her sleep, stirring, trashing, her sheets moved as she held on to her pillow. Soft whimpers and cries escaped her soft pink lips. The name of her childhood friend passed her lips a few times mostly in sorrow and misery.
Tears washed her cheeks and stained her silk pillow, soon following an ear-splitting scream before she woke up. She shook panting heavily as her heart raced.
"Henri," she muttered slightly wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. "Just a dream," she panted.
Her long blonde hair was a frizz, reminded her of the chains from the abyss slowly pulling Henri down in the purple light.
"No, it was a memory." A part of her bitterly reminded. Henri is gone. It kept repeating as memories of Henri being pulled into the abyss flowed into her mind.
She held onto her head in terror, her hair flowed from between her fingers. She kept hearing Henri screaming as he slowly disappeared beneath the earth. She kept remembering what he screamed.
Her heart cringed at the memories. She wanted to scream again but it was caught at her throat, choking her. She shook viciously her face swollen red from tears.
This reminded her of her mother all over again the day she died.
She cried their names, her voice breaking. "Come back please I don't want to be alone anymore."
Isla felt like she was six all over again. She snuggled into her fragile self, her knees pressed against her chest. "I hate being alone," she muttered burying her head in her knees. "Please."
She doesn't know what face to show when she will meet up with Jermaine De Ferrers soon. Isla sobbed quietly until morning broke.
* * *
Her entire world seemed to be shaking. Alessandra wondered if she was dreaming, her mind still somewhat groggy from sleep.
"Alessa? Alessa wake up! It's time to get ready for school! I hoped you studied for exams because I did!"
Nothing seemed out of place. The world was quiet and sleeping—something, she realized... that she should be doing as well.
The weather outside was something rotten, but that wasn't anything she could change, could she? Alessandra rubbed her eyes, a purely unconscious and reflexive motion before turning around to head back to bed and settle in the warmth of the covers. She barely accomplished a few steps when she heard a familiar voice softly call her name.
"Alessa."
All sleep-borne cobwebs in her half-awake brain vanished instantly as she recognized the intruder. The voice gave it all away: the softness, the way it seemed to take on a life of its own and pull her close before entangling her in its insistence.
Alessandra opened her eyes; the first she saw was a mass of brown hair.
"Wait, hold on! You're burning up, Alessa!" Evonnie yelled with a sheer intensity of a loudspeaker, her hand pressed alternately on her forehead and her neck.
Alessandra's attention shifted to a chuckling Loa who sat on the desk next to Alessandra's bed. The doll was delighted for once that she no longer needed to hide in cramped spaces.
With Evonnie's help, Alessandra was able to raise herself upright in bed. She looked around at her surroundings, finally mentally awake enough to register information. "I'm... sick?"
With some effort, Alessandra swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Evonnie stood in front of Alessandra and helped hoist her into a standing position, pausing for a moment to make sure Alessandra had oriented her balance. She was a little wobbly at first, but quickly gained control of her center of gravity.
"Are you sure you can go to school? You can't even stand up. Come on, you need to at least change into new clothes, eat your favorite soup and go back to bed."
"Eh?" was all Alessandra could muster. She was looking forward to today the most.
"Yes, you should stay and sleep. I'll tell Professor Marie about the situation, for sure she can help you take your exams scheduled for today tomorrow or something. I'll get you some flu medicine too!"
Alessandra whined at the loss of Evonnie's touch on hers. She grumbled a few seconds more before addressing the doll. "Why am I sick, Loa?"
"You used a high-tier magic spell. Slept late tonight, ramming all your lessons for today's exams, it exhausts your energy. Rain catching you yesterday didn't help..."
"Maybe this is karma because you didn't eat the Belgian chocolate cake I brought you yesterday!"
"Evonnie there's no correlation to that." Alessandra frowned.
"I was just saying. Belgian chocolate cake's good. I fed Isla some last Saturday and she agreed!"
A pang of jealousy rose from somewhere within Alessandra didn't want to acknowledge, yet she was here, gripping Evonnie's arm hard. Her voice seething, "Evonnie, you're not allowed to spoon-feed or even fawn over Cecil or any other potential suitors you have."
"Alessa," Evonnie started. She paused, took a deep breath, and finished her sentence, her eyes locked on hers. "Are we dating?"
Alessandra's eyes widened even more, so they haven't properly established that. No wonder, Evonnie just recounted her hang out with Isla without any regard to Alessandra's feelings. Beside them, Loa cackled, entertained.
"Yes, yes we are. Aren't we? I confessed and you accepted my feelings and everything." There. She said it. It was done. Evonnie was officially hers.
"Well, okay then?" Evonnie breathed, still looking unsure about everything, but accepting of what Alessandra was telling her.
"But, remember that just because I tell you something, doesn't mean that it has to be that way." Alessandra quickly reminded her. "Remember how I told you only you can tell yourself how you feel about me? Well, it's true. No matter what anyone might tell you, only you can decide how you truly feel."
Evonnie nodded slowly, "Yeah."
Inwardly, Alessandra cringed at the pathetic attempt to rectify the situation. There was no taking back what she said, but she could at least try to make sure that any feelings Evonnie might develop for her were genuine, even if the circumstances were uneventful.
She reached over and ruffled Evonnie's beautiful brown hair before continuing. "I don't want you to like me because I told you to. I want you to like me because you do."
"But, if I'm dating you, then I have to like you, right?" Evonnie questioned.
"Well, yeah, that's normally how dating goes."
"Then I must like you."
Alessandra helped up her hands in a mock gesture of defeat.
Evonnie stared at Alessandra's bed clock before squirming. "Ah, crap. I'm getting late." She then stared at the doll next to them. "Do you think you could make sure she gets to do all of what I said? You're her servant, aren't you? Take care of your master!"
Loa eyed Evonnie with steel annoyance, unaccustomed to taking orders from anyone but Alessandra. Still, Loa sighed and flew off to the kitchen do as she willed.
Evonnie leaned and gave Alessandra a quick kiss on the cheeks. "I'll see you around after school, darling."
Alessandra's heart somersaulted and her toes tingled and her spine rushed with electricity. "I'll be waiting."