Season of Sunlight

Fifth Month

The Trylla Detective Bureau

The City of Trylla, The Cronia Region

2325

The purple Celeste stopped next to the curb in front of a building outdated by several centuries.

The stone brick exterior, large courtyard, and marble pillars holding up the stone arch over the front entryway showcased architecture favoured during the royal reign of the Thornbridge Dynasty and the dawn of civilization in the Cronia Region.

It was preserved and protected by the Trylla Historical Society and housed the bureau for twenty years. It was the building's best chance at survival as the ever-modernizing political oligarchy itched to demolish any connection to the past.

Henri exited the Celeste and hurried through the courtyard with Elza Parks and Constable Abbott at his side.

He led them through a black gate and pushed open two wooden doors, which creaked against the impact of his shoulder.

Henri walked into an open foyer. Four long desks formed a square in the center, with two receptionists sitting at each one. It was a colourful sight, the women diverse in species and age.

The floor was covered in old driftwood, likely salvaged from the ships that brought the Thornbridge colonists.

Henri greeted the women, their heads momentarily lifting to acknowledge his presence before returning to their duties.

He continued down a wide hallway decorated with green shrubs and commissioner portraits of the past hung from the walls, four on each side.

"Time to show me the advantage of having you around, Miss Parks," Henri said. "You called this murder sinister. Despite the obvious mutilated corpses left behind, tell me why."

"Abaddon is a branch of Tyscerism, a corrupt cult of men and women solely devoted to wiping out all traces of the Prophet Society and bringing honour to their god," Elza said.

"And?"

"Tyscerism is a wicked faith, a cruel and hateful ideology, but the Court of Abaddon appears to have taken their loyalty further than expected."

Henri turned a corner and eyed a set of red twin doors at the end of the corridor. "Explain."

"The mutilations of your victims are not done regularly throughout their religion. Abaddon follows a deeper, more horrific commandment set by their fallen guardian. They call it the Celebration of Blood and Body."

"Elaborate," Henri said, quickening his pace.

"They collect pieces of six victims after their deaths—ears, fingers, teeth, tongues, whatever you can fathom. Once the pieces are collected, the ritual begins. According to the historical documentation, the remains are thrown into a cauldron and stewed into a broth, which is then presented to a high member of the cult, who takes it to an altar of Tysceras."

Abbott winced at the description.

Elza continued. "Beneath the altar, usually made of obsidian stone, lies a living prisoner, stripped of clothing and bound by their hands and feet. The high member utters a phrase and pours the broth over the prisoner's body. After a few short statements, they take a blade and perform a final act of devotion."

Henri stopped, horrified by the vivid images in his head. "Which is?"

Elza swallowed as the muscles in her throat quivered. "Cutting out the prisoner's heart."

"How do you know all of this?" Abbott asked, his hands trembling.

"My father was quite a religious man. Growing up, the tales of Tyscerism were told to us as a warning. Abaddon is not only a risk to my people but to this city. Evil does not stop at one thing; it scavenges the world, hungry to tear up any good still standing. While Abaddon remains, no one is safe. No one."

"I don't understand," Henri said, massaging his temples. "Why target me? How the hell did they know where I live?"

"Inspector," Elza said, her tone sharp. "Isn't it obvious? The breakfast body was a warning."

"Warning? Warning for what?"

"They want you to drop the case," Abbott said, crossing his arms.

"I haven't dealt face-to-face with Abaddon before. I only met one yesterday on the train. Did they follow me home?"

He suddenly remembered the ghastly sight of the green Viper driving down Cooke's Crescent. The pit of his stomach soured.

"It's possible," Elza said, "but you must also consider the alternative."

Henri narrowed his eyes. "Alternative?"

"Someone is working with the enemy, someone on the inside."

"But who?"

"That's what we need to find out," Elza said, clenching her jaw.

Henri said nothing and resumed his course for the red doors.

A mole within the investigation. If one existed, then who could it be? Henri had trained his mind to focus on Abaddon as the only suspect, but now Miss Parks spoke words that gave birth to a world of new possibilities.

He pressed his body against the left red door and was transported into the next room.

It was a laboratory. Three stainless steel tables rested evenly spaced a few inches from him, with five objects covered in white cloth occupying their surfaces.

Henri looked around the lab at the glass cabinets and shelves covering the walls. Black countertops on his right held microscopes, pipettes, shakers, mixers, and some glass tubes.

During cases, Henri learned the terms overtime coming in and out of the lab, no thanks to the eccentric Dr. Hinz.

"Welcome to the Forensics Laboratory here at the Detective Bureau," Henri said. "This is where crime scene evidence comes directly to be processed and evaluated to help the investigation."

Abbott walked around the lab in awe, examining the supplies scattered on the counter as he stretched out a hand to touch them.

"Hands off all lab equipment, Constable," a voice bellowed.

Abbott flinched.

Henri and Elza turned to watch an older man emerge from behind the cabinets, dressed in a long white coat. Round glasses framed his walnut-shaped grey eyes, his bald head glistening under the white light projected by a lamp dangling from the ceiling.

A young woman with bronze skin and long black hair trailed in his shadow.

Abbott looked at her, and she met his eyes, smiling shyly.

"This is Dr. Hinz, our resident forensic pathologist," said Henri. "Doctor, I introduce Constable James Abbott and Miss Elza Parks."

"Pleasure," Dr. Hinz said blandly.

"Likewise," Elza replied.

"Great to meet you, sir," Abbott said, holding onto his formalities.

Hinz gradually approached the silver tables, retrieving a pair of latex gloves from the right breast pocket of his coat. Sliding them over his large hairy hands, Hinz gestured to the young woman. "This is my assistant, Miss Hastings," he said. "She just came over from Britailia."

"Good morning," Miss Hastings said, lingering on Abbott before acknowledging the others.

"Britailia? You must be enjoying the warmer weather down here in Trylla," Henri said. "I hear Britailia's climate is quite cool this time of year."

"You are correct, Inspector, Trylla has been a comfortable adjustment."

Henri smiled. "Good. I do hope you'll be happy here. Hinz is the best pathologist I know."

"If you're quite finished, I'd like to discuss my findings on these bodies," Hinz rebuked.

Abbott stiffened. "Wait, those are bodies?"

Dr. Hinz frowned and hovered over the first blanketed object on the nearest table.

"Yes, they're bodies. This is a crime forensics laboratory. You are not going to find anything but bodies in here. I thought you were a detective constable, James Abbott. This should be familiar to you."

Elza and Abbott shared a glance.

"Not everyone is as immune to death and decay as you, Doctor," Henri said. "Abbott's new to this world. Be kind. He'll soon learn to understand it all." Henri paused and suddenly arched a brow. "Didn't you already see the bodies, Abbott?"

"He got me clearance, then waited outside in the hall," Elza said, crossing her arms. "He never saw anything."

Miss Hastings glanced sympathetically at the young constable as Dr. Hinz shrugged his shoulders and lifted the white cloth. An older woman's pale head appeared. Hinz studied it keenly, then pulled the cloth back to reveal the entire body.

A large open wound cut through the center of her chest down past the rib cage. The flaps of skin were peeled back and pinned against the victim's lateral sides. The internal organs were on full display.

Abbott gagged, all eyes darting up at him as he covered his mouth.

"So sorry, sir," he said, looking away.

Miss Hastings pivoted around and grabbed a metal bin sitting near the feet of the table. She ran over and placed a hand on Abbott's back, handing him the object.

"Here," she said. "Go to the washroom in the back. Clear yourself out. You'll feel better afterward."

"Thank you," he said, grabbing the bin as he held it to his mouth. Abbott quickly ran into the back room and shut the door.

"Poor lad," Henri muttered, looking at Elza.

"He'll be fine. Now, please!" Dr. Hinz said, inviting them to the table. "Hastings, put on some gloves and give me a hand."

Henri watched closely as Miss Hastings slid beside the doctor and put on her gloves.

"Hold the head," Hinz said. Minnie nodded and carefully stabilized the skull.

Hinz turned his attention to Henri. "Fraser, I don't know what to say about this one. At a glance, all victims appear to have been strangled. It's only after thorough inspection that you notice the missing pieces."

"What missing pieces?" Henri asked. "The teeth, fingers, ears?"

Dr. Hinz nodded. "It appears every victim was relieved of one body part after their death. Richard Copperfield of his teeth, Laureni Stock of three toes, Nigel Grimsby of both thumbs, Helena Bard of her tongue, and the newest young man, one of his ears. If Miss Parks is right about her ritual hypothesis, this is indeed a sinister case."

Henri glanced at the open wound in the woman's chest. "Was there a reason you proceeded to cut her open?"

"Yes," Dr. Hinz replied. "Poison. Her stomach was full of it."

"Poison?" Elza said. "Did she drink it?"

"No. Poor Helena Bard didn't have a choice. Hastings, show them the mark."

Henri and Elza stepped closer. Miss Hastings pulled the head towards her and revealed a small hole punctured into the neck beneath Helena's right ear.

"It was transmitted through a syringe," Hastings said, stroking her thumb over the wound. "You can tell by the bruising around the hole. The skin was irritated."

Henri scratched the side of his head. "Were all the victims poisoned?"

"Only the women," Dr. Hinz answered, "and the men were strangled."

"What?"

Dr. Hinz moved to the next table and lifted the white cloth to reveal Copperfield's body. "Look at the marks around the neck. They are rigid and fierce. You can see the nail marks of his attacker scratched faintly along the baseline of his throat. Nigel Grimsby showed the same results. It was a tremendous struggle.

On the other hand, if you look at Helena's neck, the bruises appear lighter, and no scratches are carved into the skin. Hastings and I conducted another full search once Miss Parks and Constable Abbott left to find you. The women died of poisoning, then, to mimic the others, the killer choked the bodies afterwards. There was no struggle."

"Why were the men strangled so savagely and the women spared?" Elza asked. "Poisoning isn't a lighter sin but grants the victim a quicker death."

Dr. Hinz massaged his glistening forehead. "It's simple. Someone wanted the men to suffer."