Detective James Garret investigates a murder that takes more and more sinister twists as he descends down to the deepest secrets of this world, in his attempt to find the murderer. He's in a new world, and the only person he can truly rely on is dead...
I was there when it happened. I saw her, standing, smiling, and then the blade grew from her chest. Dark spatters stained the pavement in the moonlight. The tall figure turned and ran. I chased. He ran into the flats through the fire escape, me following. I heard his feet clattering up the stairs, just above me. Up and up the twisting staircase we ran, until the flames of exhaustion burned in my chest. Still I continued, panting. He made no sound other than the rapid clatter of his feet on the stairs. Suddenly, near the exit to the roof, he stumbled. I caught up to him, grabbed his shoulder.
'You're nicked, mate', I said.
He turned. A pale sunken face, eyes hidden in shadow, stared back at me.
'As if you could arrest me', he said, in a voice that chilled me to the bone.
As I fumbled for my handcuffs, he picked me up with one hand and threw me into the wall, before tuning on his heel and continuing his progress up the stairs at a more sedate pace. I staggered to my feet, stumbled after him. My ears were ringing, my vision was red, and I could taste blood in my mouth. I stumbled onto the roof. He was waiting for me, right on the edge of the building, an expression of amusement on his unnatural features. It put me in mind of zombies, but zombies didn't exist. My voice caught in my throat.
'There's nowhere for you to run.' I croaked. 'Looks like you'll be coming with me after all.'
He laughed, an unearthly sound that sent razor blades down my spine.
'There's nowhere to run, true, but I regret to inform you that I shall not partake of your offer of hospitality' he said with a mocking sneer. He turned, stepped off the building.
I collapsed. Pulling my radio off my belt, I sent a message to HQ. 'Case closed. He's dead.'
'Roger that, constable. We'll be...'
That was all I heard before the figure of the murderer swooped up over the edge of the building, shot over me and flew off into the night.
'Do you copy, over. Goddamit, Garret, answer me!'
'He...he can fly,' I stammered.
'Bollocks he can. Stop talking such a pile of crap and pull yourself together. It's never pretty when someone falls off a building, but you've gotta deal with it. Understand? You've just got to...oh shit!'
'Our radar has detected a bogey in your area...'
' I told you, the murdering bastard can fly!'
I passed out after that.
My name is James Garret. I'm a policeman. This was my first murder case. And if I wasn't already in over my head, I was now.
This is my story.