The story of the FALLEN

5. Detective Holland

Zack wakes up to the annoying buzzing of his phone. He opens one eye to see the alarm clock’s display and frowns. Who the hell calls at seven in the morning? That’s so rude. Don’t people sleep any more? He grabs the phone off of the nightstand and glares at the screen. No, he won’t answer. Whoever that is can wait till Zack wakes up properly. He buries the phone under the pillows at the other side of his bed and turns over to sleep some more. Just half an hour, he can deal with the world then.

After breakfast, he decides he’s awake enough to turn his phone back on. Seven missed calls and a text message. Wow! This person is persistent, he has to give him that. The text is sparse with information, but it gives him an idea as to who was calling all morning. What does Detective Holland want from him? Should he call back? Is this about Father Angus? Does he even want to know? Dealing with one human at a time is all he can take. Simon is quite enough. That’s the main reason he is the boss and the others teach classes. He might be an advocate for humanity, but he doesn’t like them in his personal space.

Still contemplating whether to call the detective back or not, the man calls him again. Talk about persistent, he doesn’t give up. Must be important, Zack thinks. Probably best to answer, before he shows up here:

“Yes, detective?”

“Finally. I thought I would have to solve another murder.” Detective Holland says. The man is clearly agitated, but why is that Zack’s problem?

“No. I’m perfectly fine.” Zack sighs. “Why do you need me so badly?”

“There is something weird about Father Angus’ murder.” The detective tells him. “How well did you know him? Could you answer a few questions for me?”

“Not very well. It was more of a business relationship.” Zack answers.

“Could you meet with me anyway? Please.” Detective Holland asks him.

“Sure. Where? The station?” Zack gives in. He will indulge the man for now. He can always make him forget they ever met.

“How about the Embassy cafe?” The detective asks.

“Are you bribing me with coffee?” Zack laughs. Maybe this guy won’t be so bad after all?

“Could be. Will you come?” The detective asks again.

“Yeah.” Zack scoffs. Why not? All the office work will stay right where it is.

He walks down the street to the Embassy Cafe, thinking all the way if there is something he knows about the priest that could possibly be useful to the detective. All he comes up with is a fat nothing. He didn’t really know the guy. Not even his last name. But he is curious as to why the detective thinks Zack could be of any help in this case. He’s not a detective, he never liked detective novels or movies. He’s just an angel in disguise, posing to be a martial arts teacher. Nothing makes any sense lately.

“Zack?” A guy in a cheap suit asks. He’s sitting outside in front of the Embassy Cafe with a cup and a glass on the small table.

“Detective Holland, I presume?” Zack nods to the guy. Plain clothes, cheap to boot? Has to be his detective.

“Yes.” The guy nods. “This is not a part of our official investigation. The guys at the station would think I’m nuts.”

“It’s getting more interesting by the minute.” Zack smiles at the guy. “You do realize I’m just a martial arts teacher?”

“Do you take me for a fool? I know you’re something more.” Detective Holland smirks. “I checked you out. The records of your existence only go back five years. Then there is a huge hole, but you pop up in London every now and then. Every fifty years or so.”

“It’s just a family name. I can’t help it if my forefathers were so unimaginative as to only use a handful of names.” Zack shrugs. He will keep up the cover. This human has nothing he can prove.

“Right. You will make a mistake.” The detective smirks. “I will prove it. It might take me a while, but I will prove it.”

“So you’re a conspiracy theorist?” Zack chuckles. “What’s your theory on Father Angus’ murder?”

“I will prove it, there is something strange about you.” Detective Holland glares at him.

“You called me about Father Angus, remember?” Zack insists. He will not react to the detective’s claims about himself. He will give him nothing to work with.

“There was a weird oily substance in the priest’s wounds. The coroner said it must have been on the knife. But I don’t think the wounds were made by a knife.” The detective finally tells him more.

“What do you think made them?” Zack inquires.

“I don’t know. It would have been a very strange knife. Serrated on all sides. It could have been a poker of some sort, but I don’t recall ever seeing one that is flat and serrated.” He tells Zack.

Serrated, flat, poker-like? Zack thinks hard and fails to remember a weapon like that. Maybe a fantasy recreation? It could be anything. He looks over at the detective, but he has no answers, only more questions:

“Do you have pictures? I can’t recall any weapon that might look like that.”

“I have the autopsy pictures. You sure you want to see those?” The detective asks him.

“Yeah. I’m not squeamish.” Zack nods. “If you want my help, you have to give me something to work with.”

“All right.” The detective pushes a folder over the table. “It doesn’t look pretty.”

“Hmh.” Zack murmurs. He flips through the pictures and halts at computer graphics. “What’s this?”

“That is a simulation of what the weapon should look like according to the wounds.” The detective answers.

“Looks like the front legs of a praying mantis. But that critter is like 4 inches tall and it says here the wounds were six to eight inches deep.” Zack comments.

“A praying mantis? How did you come to that?” The detective asks.

“I watch a lot of nature documentaries. It’s a good way to kill time in the office.” Zack shrugs. “It could be a fantasy weapon made from some game template. World of Warcraft sports all sorts of weird weapons.”

“Oh.” The detective scoffs. “That’s the best lead I have. But why would some gamer want to kill Father Angus?”

“No idea. Who says it’s a gamer?” Zack inquires.

“Right. What was the connection between you and Father Angus?” The detective asks. “I doubt that he was your student.”

“He wasn’t.” Zack laughs. “I have an interest in old books. He was helping me find a few. Never got them, though. He was supposed to give me one at the meeting he never showed up for.”

“He didn’t have a book on him.” The detective shakes his head. “Was this a particularly valuable old book? Could we tie this to the antiquities black market?”

“No. It’s a rare book for sure, but has no real value. This gives me an idea. Maybe I should go to one of those rare book shops? They could have the more obscure books I’m looking for.” Zack frowns. Why didn’t he think of that before?

“What are you looking for, if I may ask?” The detective inquires.

“Early Middle Age books on witches, demons, natural phenomena that they thought were witchcraft. Occult stuff.” Zack says. There is no harm in the detective knowing what he’s looking for.

“Not your typical library stuff. Good luck with that.” The guy laughs. “Thank you for today. May I call you if I find something?”

“Sure.” Zack nods. “Do you know of any rare book shops? There is Shakespeare and Co. in Paris, but I don’t recall seeing one here.”

“Not sure, but I can let you know what I find.” The detective nods before he leaves him there all alone.

Zack gets another coffee to go before he walks back home. He will have to rush the office work and maybe skip lunch, but this meeting was somewhat useful. He got a new lead on the books and maybe on a demon. The praying mantis reference he gave the detective could also be accurate for a minor Manticus demon. They have hands that look like the ones of a praying mantis. The size is right too. But why would a demon kill a priest? Was Father Angus just at the wrong place at the time the demon was there?

“What do you think?” Zack asks Tammy. He explained his thoughts on the murder when she brought him his lunch to the office. She’s the only one not picking a fight with him right now.

“Valid questions. Maybe someone set the demon on him? What was the book he was supposed to bring you?” Tammy says.

“Something about demons.” Zack shrugs. “Demons are hard to control. It would have to be a powerful witch or a coven. But why kill the priest?”

“Maybe to keep him from telling you what he found? It would make sense if a witch is behind this.” Tammy speculates.

“Yeah. Finding this witch won’t be easy. They are better at hiding in this century. She or he could be anywhere.” Zack sighs.

“What will you tell the detective if it was a demon who killed the priest?” Tammy inquires.

“No clue. I’ll worry about it if it comes to that.” He shakes his head. “I hate this. He is tenacious. If it’s a witch, and he somehow finds her, he’s dead. They don’t care about collateral damage. She might even kill him for fun.”

“Yeah. So now we have two humans to look out for? Will you protect this detective?” Tammy looks at him. He smiles back. She knows that he will. This stubborn detective somehow made Zack care by involving him in the case. Something happening to him would be bad. Getting him killed by association doesn’t sit well with Zack. Humans die on them too soon as it is. No need to shorten their lifespan even more.

The rest of the afternoon he’s making a list of potential book shops to see. The Internet is remarkably useful for this. If he finds something, is another question? He needs to go there and see for himself. The more unusual and obscure books are never in any online shop. The market for these is limited and very small. Maybe he can look in the antiques stores as well? They always have books there. He might be surprised. He knows they sell old books based on looks alone, not so much on what's inside.

So he makes a separate list of antique shops and comes up with forty places to see. He’s got his work cut out for him the next few days. But first he has to go see Nakir about this potential Manticus demon. The angel of death can claim he’s not an expert on demons, but he knows most about them. He climbs the stairs up to the penthouse, because the elevator makes him feel claustrophobic. He hates the tight confines of the metal box. Getting stuck in there is his worst nightmare.

“Anyone seen Nakir?” He asks the girls. He tilts his head to make sense of what he sees on the TV screen and frowns. Since when are they watching reality shows?

“He went out.” Layla answers.