2/3

TW: Light mention of hanging. Spoilers alert; it relates to a murder. Please read at your own risk! This is the second part of chapter 5. With this scene and the next one, I was careful and I made it as vague and limited detail as possible to respectfully avoid upsetting my readers.

In the tranquil ambiance of London's scenery, raindrops descended softly on the stagecoach's glass window, tracing a silvery path down the surface and blurring the passing scenery into a mysterious yet enchanting view. Rhazien's piercing gaze, reminiscent of a brewing storm, followed the dwindling figures of the hurried passersby as they vanished into the ink-like haze of the rain. They were entering a district that Rhazien knew all too well, where the once-bustling streets of the business district gave way to a narrow cobblestone road that soon faded into a muddy, dirt-like path.

Rhazien's lips formed into a thin line as he gripped a metal rod above the window. The once smooth ride had turned into a jarring and bumpy one, causing Rhazien to regret taking up the offer of a coach. He much preferred travelling on foot. As the coach jolted and swayed, Rhazien couldn't help but wonder if he would have been better off sticking to his usual mode of transportation.

The coach suddenly came to a jarring stop, causing Rhazien's body to lurch forward. If it weren't for the metal rod he was gripping, he would have ended up flying into the seat in front of him. A small, unnoticeable curse escaped his lips as he tried to collect himself.

His gloved hand reached for the weathered handle, turning it without a second thought as he lowered his head through the doorway. As his leather boots hit the ground, the sludge of mud beneath his feet sucked the soles of his boots in, causing a soft sigh to escape his lips. Raindrops gently sunk into his dark locks as they escaped the edges of his skull, sliding down the sides of his face and neck. This side of London's district became all too familiar. More murder cases became apparent when he first arrived on the job. The numbers began to stack daily until it became too familiar, especially in the slums.

It became apparent to Rhazien that an individual's struggles can differ from merely the surname they inherit. Poverty lingered everywhere in the poorer districts of London: in tight neighbourhoods, through back alleys, in shops, between the gutters, and within brothels.

The very spot he stood in gave him a feeling of paranoia, almost as if someone was watching his every move. His gaze flickers as he observes his surroundings, from the shingled rooves to the many cramped homes. The tightly packed homes with shingled roofs seemed to loom over him, giving the neighbourhood a ghostly and eerie atmosphere. A feeling in Rhazien's gut began to settle in, clawing its way up almost as if the stuffiness of the path he walked threatened to swallow him whole.

"Holy shit! Will you blow your damn nose?!"

Rhazien was lost in his thoughts when a distant voice caught his attention. As he focused on the source of the sound, he noticed a group of officials standing in front of a dilapidated home. To his surprise, the officials included the renowned detectives Herlock Sholms and James Phoenix, who were from the same department as Rhazien at the detective agency.

The moment he made his way over to them, opening the gate of an almost broken fence encased in chicken wire, he noticed how gruesome the scene had become. A thick copper-like odour coated the air, causing Rhazien's gaze to flicker toward the source of it all. Small ivory feathers were scattered along the front of the property, almost as if someone had slashed open a pillowcase. Crimson stained the gravel below as the three slaughtered chickens -- heads separated from their bodies lay lifeless along the path before him.

At the end of the path lies a lifeless raven. Something about the trail led Rhazien to believe he was being led into something gruesome.

As James continued criticizing Herlock, his intense gaze suddenly shot toward him. James' brows furrowed deeply, and an extensive line appeared on his forehead, indicating his annoyance. The man next to him cupped his hands over his nose, handkerchief in between his fingers, as he blew his nose for the third time.

"I can only assume it's allergies," Herlock's voice is muffled as he talks into his hands, his ocean gaze darting beside him. His golden locks stuck to his face as he peers through the droplets hanging off his lashes.

"Considering how much you're paid," James huffs while rolling his eyes, "I'm sure you can pay for whatever the doctor shoves down your throat. Allergies are not the answer; you're sick, mate."

James' gaze had been distant and unfocused until Rhazien drew near. Then, his head snapped to the side, and he focused all his attention on the approaching figure. After a moment's pause, James spoke, breaking the silence that hung between them.

"That look on your face tells me you heard about the news, too," James inquires. He places his hand in his pocket before pulling out a pipe and a small pouch. He gathers the dried tobacco leaves between his fingers before putting them into the pipe's bowl.

"I only heard what Corvus told me," his gaze flickers above, watching Corvus land on the gutter's edge above the roof.

"The last living member of the boy's bloodline pointed us here, this very residence in the slums. Yet, Mr. Blanks was found dead before the rising sun. There are accusations of a mysterious figure slaughtering him before attempting to cover up his tracks," with a swift motion, he responded before delicately picking up the stem and placing it between his lips. He gently cupped his hand over the bowl of the pipe and reached into his pocket to retrieve a match. Striking it against the rough surface, he brought the flame to the dry tobacco nestled within the bowl, watching as it ignited and began to emit a fragrant smoke.

His words left Rhazien with a stomach-churning feeling. Fire enveloped his gut, spreading like wildfire as it tickled its way up his gut. He knew the only initial plan he thought would indeed work, but finding Callum another relative who could take care of him ended up failing him before the plan stood a chance. Frustration began to take over as Rhazien remained silent.

"Mr. Blanks is the brother to the boy's mum, Lilith. From the information we gathered, he lived alone and had no children or spouse. However, he often visited Lilith and her son every other holiday and never had any beef with them. He also has no known medical conditions or allergies. There are also no known reasons for his death. He worked as a Chimney sweep daily and was paid very little," he took a drag as the smoke exited the corner of his lips.

"Why would Mr. Blanks pull something like this now?" Rhazien mumbles, trying to piece together the jumbled pieces. It was as if something was overlooked or missing. The further he ventures through his thoughts about it, the more he feels like he is being backed into a corner, and the tighter he begins to grip his cane.

"Exactly," James replies before continuing.

"Which leads to our witness. This morning, a few hours before daybreak, Officer Warren left his residence and took the normal route he was familiar with before having to go off-path. He says he saw someone murder him," he began making a steady pace toward another two individuals. A man in a dark uniform spilled everything to another official, jotting down notes in a leather notebook.

"Jack, this is Mr. Crawford. Rhazien, this is our new rookie," James explains as he stretches out an arm with introductions.

"Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Crawford," Jack says, throwing out his arm to shake as his body stiffens.

"Likewise, Jack," Rhazien replies, shaking Jack's hand.

Rhazien's keen perception quickly caught on to the fact that this was Mr. Warren's first time being involved in a case regarding another man's life. The telltale signs were all there - how his thin and fragile body tensed up, his scrawny arms locking his shoulders too high, revealing his nervousness and inexperience. It was as if his body was narrating a story of its own, conveying a sense of apprehension and uncertainty that was hard to miss.

"Relax. You're not in any deep trouble," Rhazien reassures as his voice remains dry.

"Yet," James adds, causing Rhazien to turn his head toward James as he narrows his gaze by half an inch.

"You're the only one who saw what happened. Am I correct?" Rhazien inquires as his gaze flickers back to the rookie before him.

"Yes! I saw it all," he nods profusely.

"And how long have you been working in the force?" Rhazien arches a brow, studying Jack's facial expression and where his eyes went.

"I just graduated from the academy, sir. This is my second week on the job," he explains as he averts his gaze from Rhazien to the gravel underneath his shoes.

"Now, tell me exactly everything you witnessed this morning," Rhazien directed, then placed his gloved hand in his pocket.

"This morning, just before the sun rose, I went to work. My usual route, which I take every morning, was blocked by a cart tipped over. Valuable bottles of vanilla extract were scattered along the street as the merchant tried to pick up his remaining stock. With that said, I took another route I was unfamiliar with and soon became lost. I heard sounds as I was trying to navigate my way through this neighbourhood. It almost sounded like the last attempt to break free from struggle," he breathed in before continuing to spill out more information.

"I glanced up for a mere second as two silhouettes danced across the walls in the room above. From an angle, I saw the shadow of a man before I saw Mr. Blanks' body hanging in front of the window before the remaining light was drowned by darkness. I feared I would be next, so I ran to get help," he explains, emphasizing his fear through his shaking limbs.

"And are you sure you saw another man? Did you get a good look at him?" Rhazien asks, waiting patiently for Jack to piece together his overwhelming thoughts.

"I'm sure I saw another man in the room with Mr. Blanks. How else can two shadows dance across the walls? Unfortunately, I didn't get a good look at him," he sighs, bowing his head in shame. Rhazien knew the recruit felt ashamed he couldn't do better to add any leads. He couldn't blame him for running either. . .

"Thank you, Officer Warren. That will be all."

Rhazien spun his heel and strode away, with James trailing behind him. There was a nagging sense of unease gnawing at Rhazien's mind as he replayed the story he had just heard. He couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss. How could Mr. Blanks have hanged himself when the other person was right there with him? The more Rhazien pondered over the details, the more his stomach churned with dread.

"'Shadows dancing across the wall,' huh," Rhazien mutters as he becomes lost in thought.

"Stinks, doesn't it? His story sounds a little off," James huffs as they stop by the back gate.

"That's why I vouched for a third opinion, Rhazien," he turns toward him as his gaze flickers toward Rhazien.

"Sholms thinks Mr. Blanks hung himself for a reason, though I don't trust his opinion or most of the story the pup told us. Now, I want you to tell me your opinion once you see the scene. Follow me," James motions for him to follow as he opens the back gate, pacing toward the back ally.

Rhazien proceeded cautiously, his gaze darting around as he trailed behind James. The sky was a murky blur, still shrouded in a light drizzle that had gradually ceased. The cramped buildings that lined the road were so close together that they seemed to merge into one another. The rooftops, made of shingles, were almost touching, creating a claustrophobic environment. Every house had a clothesline strung up behind it, and a solitary well stood behind each residence.

Rhazien's lifeless gaze narrowed by half an inch as he began looking at the old stone well ahead of him, its dark crevices and worn exterior hinting at its age. A slight squawk caught his attention as Corvus perched atop the well's roof. Rhazien approached the well cautiously, scanning his surroundings for any signs of danger. As he peered into the depths of the well, his gaze met the still, murky water at the bottom. The murky water remained undisturbed as the wooden bucket cradled itself above the water's surface. Despite his scrutiny, nothing out of the ordinary caught Rhazien's eye. With his eyes gradually ascending, Rhazien observes the well's rope used to lower the bucket. The rope appears to be still hanging, but upon closer inspection, he notices that it's entirely detached from the well's pulley mechanism. The rope's ends are jagged and uneven, indicating that it had frayed and split recently.

"Someone cut it. . ." Rhazien murmured as he held one end of the rope between his fingers before releasing it.

He turns away from the well before catching up with James at the back door. As they approached the door, James reached out and carefully turned the knob, which creaked and groaned with rust. With a gentle push, he opened the door and stepped inside as Rhazien followed close behind. Just as Rhazien was about to cross the threshold, Corvus swooped down from the sky and pivoted its body through the doorway.

"Apparently, the back door was left unlocked. . ." James comments as his voice trails off.