Page 32 of Dropping Like Flies

“You said he’s trying to communicate,” Ben prompted.

“He is.” Rafe turned a photo around so it faced us instead of him. He tapped his finger on it to draw our attention to a certain part. “This is an ancient symbol commonly used to open the gateway between worlds. I would presume that in each case, it’s the first one he draws.” He lifted his gaze, but when it wasn’t something either of us could confirm or deny, he carried on regardless, tapping his finger on another place on the photo. “This one is a request of sorts.”

“A request?” I asked. “A request to who, and what exactly is he requesting?”

Rafe pondered the question. “The who is easy. Whoever this man is, he’s attempting to communicate with demons. Or… given all the symbols are the same every time, one particular demon.”

Ben leaned forward, his gaze sharp. “Can you tell which one?”

Rafe pulled a face. “It’s difficult to tell without knowing more. Maybe Bizith. Maybe Gezgomar. They’re the most accessible.”

Ben let out a snort. “Accessible? You make it sound like you can order one off Amazon.”

Rafe shrugged. “You asked for my expertise. I’m just telling you what I know. As for what they want from the demon, that’s impossible to say. The oath is made between the person who raises the demon and the demon raised. How many murders have there been so far?”

“Five,” Ben said. “Is that important?”

Rafe gave a slow nod. “It could be. It shows that contact is still to be made, that either they haven’t satisfied the requirement for the demon’s appearance, or—”

“Requirement?” I interjected.

Rafe nodded. “Demons don’t just appear. It’s not like snapping your fingers and calling their name. Depending on which one it is, there are sacrifices that have to be made. Some might call them offerings.” He held Ben’s gaze. “What is he taking from the victims?”

Ben went still. “How do you know he’s taking anything?”

Rafe waved a hand over the photos. “Because without an offering, the rest of this is pointless. Like shouting into the void. So either there’s something you left out of your account, or whoever is doing this doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing and you have nothing to worry about. Well… apart from the murders themselves, obviously.”

He waited, the silence stretching for what seemed like an age. As it wasn’t my case, I stayed silent, leaving it up to Ben to decide whether he said more.

Ben finally let out a sigh. “The killer’s been removing the victim’s fingers. Is that the sort of offering you’re talking about?”

“It’s not the most common,” Rafe said, his voice bearing a hint of surprise. “The heart would be more popular. But perhaps your murderer doesn’t have the stomach to be carving hearts out of men’s chests.”

The same threat that Dougie had made to Rupert. Was that important? I gave a bitter laugh. “Right, because chopping people’s fingers off is far less bloodthirsty.”

Rafe didn’t laugh. “It is. Think about it. Which would you choose? One clean sweep with a sharp enough blade. Or needing to crack open a ribcage to get to the organ you need?”

“Neither,” I said, a slight hint of nausea coloring my words.

“He has sex with the victims first,” Ben said, clearly deciding that having shared the information about the fingers, there was no point in holding anything else back. “Can you think of a reason for that?”

Rafe frowned. “I can’t say I can. There’s no demon I’ve ever heard of that would require the deal to be sweetened by an orgiastic offering. I’ll ask around for you, though, keeping it to a theoretical viewpoint, obviously, so it remains confidential, and I’ll call you if I find out anything.”

Ben nodded. “So… what you’re saying is that there’s a quota that our murderer needs to reach before the demon will sit up and take notice.”

“That would be my best guess.”

“Any idea what that quota might be?” I asked.

Rafe shrugged. “Could be ten. Could be a hundred. These things aren’t an exact science, unfortunately.”

“And if this demon were to appear,” I mused. “What would you theorize they might want it to do?”

Rafe shook his head. “It’s impossible to say. To know that you’d have to know what they desire most in the world. They’d have an awful lot of power at their fingertips if they were successful. It could be money or it could be something more personal. Either way, I would advise that you catch this man before the demon in question decides to find out what he wants.”

“Great advice! If only the Metropolitan’s finest weren’t sitting on their arses doing nothing,” Ben said in his most scathing tone.

Dark spots of color appeared on Rafe’s cheeks and he inclined his head. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to insinuate you weren’t doing your best. That’s why you’re here, after all.” His gaze strayed back to me. “I can’t help wondering why a necromancer is involved. There are stories,” he said after scrutinizing me carefully, “of a necromancer so rare that they straddle both worlds, that of the dead and the living, enabling them to not only bring back the dead temporarily, but to hold complete power over the human soul. So much so that they can manipulate it at their will.”

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