Alice Veil

  Morning fog crawled across the scorched earth like a shroud.

  I stood at what remained of the Waldberg estate gates. The cast-iron bars had melted, twisted into bizarre spirals. The stones of the wall had blackened. Of the house itself, only a stone skeleton remained: charred beams jutted from the walls like the ribs of a dead beast.

  The smell lingered. Sickly sweet, nauseating. Burnt flesh doesn't smell like meat on coals. There's something... wrong about it. Something that makes your stomach clench, even if you've seen it hundreds of times.

  "Ma'am, the cellar's intact."

  Sergeant Collins. Good lad, but too young for this. He'd thrown up twice while we inspected the upper floors.

  "Lead the way."

  The descent into the cellar felt more like falling into hell itself. The stone steps had survived, but they were covered in soot and... something sticky. Blood. Lots of blood. It had flowed from above, seeping through cracks in the floor.

  The cellar was a long room with a low vaulted ceiling. Stone walls that were at least two hundred years old. In normal times, they stored wine and preserves here. Now the shelves were overturned, bottles shattered, and the air hung thick with the smell of fermented wine mixed with the copper of blood.

  My men's lanterns carved details from the darkness. Signs of struggle everywhere—deep scratches on stone, dents in the walls, as if something enormous had thrashed here in agony.

  And then I saw them.

  The Count lay by a massive oak door at the far end of the cellar. In his hand—a broken sword. The other half of the blade stuck out from the wall three meters away. How much force would it take to hurl a piece of steel with such power?

  The body... Hell, even for me this was hard. The chest cavity opened. Ribs jutted outward like white branches. But the face... The face wasn't frozen in a grimace of horror. Determination. He knew he would die, but hadn't retreated.

  "He was holding the door."

  Collins was right. The marks on the floor spoke for themselves. The Count had retreated step by step, but hadn't given up. Even when the demon had ripped open his stomach, he'd kept fighting.

  The Countess lay behind him. A small, fragile woman in a bloodstained dress. In her right hand—a kitchen knife. In her left—a bottle shard. She'd fought with whatever was at hand.

  But her wounds... I crouched, examining the body. Not ragged edges like from claws. Clean, neat punctures. Someone had finished her off after the demon was done with the Count. Human. Definitely human.

  "How many demon corpses did we find?"

  "None."

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  What? It wasn't a human who'd torn the Count apart like this.

  I examined the walls more carefully. Symbols drawn in blood. Not random smears—deliberate signs. Various curves, all almost perfectly symmetrical...

  "Collins, more light here."

  In bright light, I could see what I'd missed. Tracks. Not demonic—boot prints with a characteristic tread. Military boots of otherworlder manufacture. But beside them—bare human feet. And more...

  Wax. Drops of wax formed a trail from the entrance to the bodies.

  "Candles?"

  "In the Waldbergs' cellar? They used oil lamps."

  So they brought them. Why?

  I stood, dusting off my knees. A picture was forming in my mind. Demons attacked from above, distracting. While the Count and Countess fought, someone descended into the cellar. Someone who didn't need the Waldbergs, but...

  "The boys. They were looking for the boys."

  "Ma'am?"

  "Nothing. Seal the cellar. No one enters without my permission. And find me everyone who saw anything. Everyone."

  Saint Margaret's Hospital smelled of carbolic acid and despair.

  Luten lay in a private room. Pale, almost translucent. If not for the barely visible movement of his chest, you'd think he was dead. The hole in his stomach had closed, but something kept him in a coma.

  "How is he?"

  The doctor shook his head.

  "Physically recovering incredibly fast. But his consciousness... It's like it's not there. Or it's somewhere far away."

  Elliot sat by his brother's bed. Hadn't left for three days now. Dark circles under his eyes, hands trembling from exhaustion.

  "Elliot, you need to sleep."

  "I can't."

  "Why?"

  He looked at me. Fear in his eyes.

  "When I fall asleep, I see his dreams. Space. Pain. And a voice speaking in a language I don't understand, but somehow I know it's promising to return."

  Psychic connection. I'd heard of such things with twins, but could it really be this deep?

  "Try calling him."

  "What?"

  "You feel his dreams. Try to reach him. Call him home."

  Elliot took his brother's hand. Closed his eyes. One minute. Two. Five.

  "He's there. But... like he's behind glass. I'm knocking, but he doesn't hear. Or doesn't want to hear."

  "Keep trying."

  I received a message from my subordinates—they'd found witnesses. I needed to think on the road.

  The tavern at the crossroads to the village, "The Drunken Boar." Five locals, already considerably drunk.

  "Lady Inspector!"

  The elder tried to stand, but I gestured for him to sit.

  "Who saw strangers before the attack?"

  Silence. Then a young man, a blacksmith by the look of him, raised his hand.

  "Three in hoods. The day before... that. They came from the direction of the old chapel."

  "Show me?"

  The chapel stood on a hill, half an hour's walk away. Abandoned, with a collapsed roof. But inside...

  The altar was clean. No dust. On it—dried blood. Dark, almost black. Demonic.

  And on the floor—symbols. The same ones as in the Waldbergs' cellar. A summoning circle and... something else. Runes of control.

  I found myself thinking aloud.

  "They controlled the demons."

  Under the altar—a hidden door. A narrow passage led down into a natural cave. There I found what I was looking for.

  A camp. Or rather what remained of it—one torn tent, a couple of cages for large animals, apparently where they'd kept the demons.

  How did they sleep with those things behind them?

  I rummaged through the trash they'd left behind. It was disgusting, but maybe I'd find some notes, maps?

  Collins helped me. After sorting through everything, we found nothing valuable—they'd likely taken everything important.

  "Alright then, call the boys here. Take everything, maybe they'll find something at the Chancellery."

  That night I sat in my office, studying the documents we'd found.

  Some zealots, sponsored by otherworlders and controlling demons? Next you'll tell me demons can turn into humans.

  If it was specifically zealots hunting for the boys, that explains the underground laboratory case. But otherworlders are involved here too—my brother won't let me dig deeper

  I'll freeze the case for now, but what to do with Elliot and Luten?

  The Academy. I need to send them to the Academy. It's safer there. And there I can continue the investigation.

  Are the boys the key or victims?

  We'll see

  For new readers: This is part of the main story - Alice's investigation reveals crucial details about the attack on the Waldbergs and explains how the boys ended up at the Academy.

  For returning readers: Bonus content showing what happened behind the scenes! You'll get Alice's detective work, more details about the attack, and insight into why certain decisions were made.