Page 51 of Investigation of a Quest

“That’s when it happened,” Olivia said. “Leo Craven isn’t there, but after the landscaping truck leaves, he is. We can’t see the square from this angle, though. The trailer is in the way… we’ve seen this tactic before.”

“That’s certainly big enough to transport the lion,” Bel said. “And people never question landscape vehicles… except it’s fall, and there’s little need for lawn care.”

“Maybe there’s another camera with a better vantage point,” Olivia said, and after visiting a few more businesses, they found a clearer view that left more questions than answers.

“Whoever is moving the lion knows where the cameras are,” Olivia said as they watched a uniformed figure in a concealing hat wheel something covered by a tarp out of the trailer before they disappeared from view. “They never once look in this direction. That landscaper could be anyone.”

“And tracking the company down won’t help us.” Bel angled her phone’s web search at her partner. “That lawn service doesn’t exist.”

“Of course it doesn’t.”

“Getting a truck and fake logo is probably the easiest thing this killer has done,” Bel said. “We can still request the footage from the traffic lights, but this person hasn’t left so much as a hair out of place. They aren’t going to get tripped up by a traffic cam.”

“You never know,” Olivia said, clearly not believing her optimism as they returned to the crime scene. “All it takes is one slip-up, and even witches make mistakes… right?”

“They do,” Bel agreed. “A very powerful witch once made the monumental mistake of choosing me for the sacrifice to bind Eamon to her. I’m still alive, while she’s dead in the dirt with almost every single bone in her body broken into splinters.”

“Let’s pray for the same outcome. Let’s pray this is finally over. All four men who disturbed the ruins are dead, so it must be over.”

“If these deaths were black magic sacrifices to fuel a war, this is far from over,” Bel said, the heaviness returning to their shoulders. “If witches mean to turn our town into a battlefield, the death toll will make these seem trivial.”

“And if this isn’t war?” Olivia’s voice faltered. “If this is an entity set loose by four reckless hikers, what then?”

“I don’t know,” Bel answered truthfully. “They might return to their sacred grounds, revenge satiated, or their wickedness might be finally free to consume whatever mortal it finds worthy of ending.”

“That knowledge is too heavy a burden to bear.”

“It’s why men like Eamon and Ewan never love mortal women like us,” Bel said. “Love means trust, and now we know the truth. We’re in this with them… at least I’m in this with Eamon. You could go.” She grabbed her partner’s hand. “You could run far away from here. You might be safe.”

“You know I can’t,” Olivia said. “I might not be in this with Ewan, but I’m in it with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’ve had a rough year, and I’m sorry for my part in it, but I’m sure. I’m in this with you.”

“The precision,” Lina said. “Seeing this in the dark was unsettling enough, but seeing it under my lights…” She fell silent as they all stared down at the hybrid consuming her autopsy table. A sudden rainstorm the night before had forced them to ignore the monstrosity as they raced to salvage the evidence from the weather, but here in the bright stillness, this cowardly lion was a nightmare brought to life.

“The second victim—the tin man—was a surgeon,” Lina finally continued. “I wonder if this killer was too. The way he dissected both the lion and Mr. Craven and then pieced them together to form one creature... their knowledge of anatomy is impressive. So is their skill. This work is clean. The scarecrow and wizard were simple costumes.”

“Save for the missing brain and tongue,” Bel added.

“Touché,” Lina said. “The tin man required more anatomical knowledge and skill. Professionals made the armor, but the killer still had to drill them into the body. But this… No wonder they saved this for last. I’m staring at it, and I still can’t believe it. How does someone do this?”

“I called Agent Barry on the drive here,” Bel said, knowing exactly how the killer achieved this. It was the same way Alcina Magus had transformed human bodies into furniture almost a year and a half ago. “I just wanted to confirm what I already knew, but importing exotic cats into the United States is illegal. Obtaining this carcass would’ve been the Black Market’s doing, so no leads there.”

“Does he know of any big cat smugglers?” Olivia asked.

“If he does, he can’t share sensitive FBI information for ongoing investigations with some local cops,” Bel said. After the rain had threatened their crime scene, everyone had rushed to salvage Leo Craven’s resting place. They’d worked late into the night, arriving home soaked and filthy, and with the rain still beating down on her car as she drove to the autopsy that morning, Bel had called Barry. She knew the answer before she heard his voice, though. The taxidermy lion would be another dead end in a long line of dead ends. Witches didn’t leave evidence behind. Not for humans to find, at least.

“Hopefully, the body will tell us something. There’s definitely a lot of evidence here.” Lina gestured to the hundreds of pounds of natural and synthetic limbs. “But I’m worried it won’t be helpful. You don’t have both the knowledge and skill to take a man and a lion apart before piecing them together only to leave your fingerprints behind.”

“We suspect the killer had Craven for days,” Olivia said. “He took his time. He was careful. If only we could find his workspace… what if you’re right? What if the killer is a surgeon?” She glanced at Bel with a shrug. Anything was possible at this point. “We’ll pay the hospital a visit after this. Knowing what we know now, we might be able to pinpoint a suspect.”

“If you don’t get carried away by the wind,” Lina said. “This storm is something else. I hope we didn’t miss anything at the crime scene because it’s long gone after all this rain.”

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” Bel answered the phone as she hovered inside the police station’s entrance. The rain was borderline apocalyptic, and the detectives had spent their frustrating day of dead ends soaked to the bone and barely able to see out the windshield as they drove to the hospital, the tornado-strength winds threatening to yank them off the highway and throw them into another universe.

“You okay?” Eamon asked. “Do you need me to come get you?”