The door slammed shut as boots clacked forcefully against the wooden floorboards. The chattering neighbours barely avoided the woman stomping their way, muttering under her breath. She flipped open her phone, staring at the missed calls and messages for the last time before slamming it shut vindictively.
A pleasant scent of petrichor wafted in the air, carried by the cooling breeze that billowed Anya’s flaming hair as she walked along the street. She looked around for a taxi, her already sour mood getting worse by the minute. Fortunately, a yellow cab showed itself around the corner before her face could get darker than the lingering rain clouds.
“Jon, you git… I even specifically reminded you last night…” Anya muttered to herself as she got in the vehicle. “And who does that woman think she is, taking him away like that…”
“M— Miss? Where to?”
Anya looked up, meeting the eyes of the driver in the rear mirror. She could see a slight hint of terror in his eyes. The policewoman straightened her clothes and relaxed against the seat, flashing the most polite smile she could muster at the moment.
“His Majesty’s Prison Brixton, please. Thank you.”
~ ~ ~
“I must confess, inspector. I did not quite expect to see you for the rest of my life.”
Anya maintained her strict expression at the man smiling warmly across her. Although she was clearly in a position of power now, something about the mafia boss’s gaze unnerved her. It felt almost as though he could see through any facade she put up. But she had a job to do here, so the show must go on.
“Neither did I, but I have some questions for you.” Anya leaned against the cold metallic chair with her arms still folded.
“Questions regarding Warner?”
She flinched slightly at the accuracy of his guess. This man seemed a lot more intelligent than the bumbling, cowardly boss his gang usually painted him out to be.
“Questions regarding some evidence we found at your place,” Anya replied in a tone sharpened by years of interrogating criminals.
“Is that so?” Oliver Harred smirked. “Then why, pray tell, have none of your colleagues paid me a single visit yet? Unless you have been doing some private sleuthing on your own, Inspector Sechina?”
“You seem to know more than you let on.” Anya exhaled loudly, tapping out from the powerplay she was clearly losing. “So let’s speak plainly. How did the Lily Noir gem come into your possession?”
Oliver’s expression hardened. “You speak of it as though they are mere jewellery. But do you understand the true nature of the Lily Noir?”
“Nature?” Anya scoffed. “You make them sound as though they are sentient. They’re nothing but a craftsman’s tribute to a tragic folklore.”
“And who was that craftsman? It seems your knowledge is limited to internet searches and police archives, detective.” Oliver chuckled slightly. “The Lily Noir currently are, and will always be alive.”
Anya leaned forward.
“The Lily Noir are what remains of three sworn sisters, their essence crystallised in the form of three gems for all eternity. I believe their tale is common knowledge, so I shall spare you the details,” Oliver continued. “The three sisters were persecuted by humanity for witchcraft practices, and thus they forged a covenant with an angel of death to borrow its power.”
“Angel of death?” Anya raised a sceptical eyebrow.
“One sister believed the world would never change and wanted the power to manipulate everyone else to leave them alone. Another sought an impenetrable shield for her family. The last one preferred a more direct approach and asked for boundless power to fight off those who hunted them. And the angel did grant their wishes.”
“So you’re telling me genies exist.” Anya rolled her eyes. “What’re you going to tell me next? That you’re secretly a fairy?”
“I wouldn’t disrespect mythical beings if I were you, inspector. They’re more often much closer than you think,” Oliver said sharply. “Anyway, each sister draws power from three sources; fire, lightning, and the moon. The gems in turn grant their owners power over these elements. Being once young and power-hungry, I too sought them out along with a partner.”
“He’s finally getting to the point…” Anya heaved an internal sigh of relief.
“It took a while, but we finally located all three gems that were lost in the course of history.” Oliver smiled wryly. “I had spent almost ten years in search of the gems and grew wiser with all my experiences. So I decided to lock the three gems away instead.”
“Why? What’s the point of searching for them in the first place then?”
“That’s exactly what my partner asked. But unlike him, you have not seen for yourself the dangers of their power.” A dark expression crossed his face. “In return for the power they provide, each of them also requires their unique conditions to be met.”
“The white gem grants its user precognition and even the ability to take over other minds but grants him one desire. The catch is, the gem chooses which desire to grant, and that often results in horrible consequences for the user instead. The red gem greatly enhances the user’s capabilities and removes all mortal weaknesses, but requires him to be the most powerful in the room or risk losing its blessing. And the blue gem is the worst.”
“How so?”
“It emits an impenetrable shield when wielded to protect its user, as well as the ‘speed of lightning’ to spirit his loved ones to safety. It sounded like a great deal at first, until we found out that it only works on direct blood descendants of the original sister. This gem values familial ties and has left behind a bloody trail of those who tried to use it. Even blood descendants who didn’t value family met terrible ends. That was a big reason why I decided to abandon the gems altogether.”
Oliver leaned forward, his voice dropping to a guttural pitch. “So upon hearing that, what makes you think I wanted to have anything else to do with those accursed gems?”
“Then explain why Jonathan Warner found one of them in your apartment.” Anya crossed her arms again.
“I have made many enemies in this life. Perhaps you should find out who else knows about the Lily Noir’s magic, and would have wanted to curse me with it.”
“Someone like your partner, perhaps? Come to think of it, you never did tell me his name.”
“His name was Boris,” Oliver replied simply. “Though I suspected that wasn’t his real name, I didn’t question it back then. And we had a rather unpleasant separation after accidentally dropping the gems into a cave in our fight.”
He shook his head. “The fool had insisted on trying to trick one of the gems into breaking its vow. He was under the delusion that by doing that, the contract would be reversed and he could use the magic for himself.”
“Tell me his surname,” Anya pressed.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t remember it.”
Anya slammed her hands on the table, causing a few guards to look their way. Oliver remained unfazed by the policewoman, whose face was about to match the colour of her hair.
“Are you kidding me?” she yelled. “You waste my time telling me a whole story and leave out the information I need the most?”
“Haven’t I given you enough to go on already? I have told you everything I know about the Lily Noir.” Oliver Harred stood up and signalled for his guards to take him back to his cell. “Farewell, Mikhailovna. Oh, and do give my regards to your roommate.”
He tipped an imaginary hat at the fuming inspector as the door closed on him.
~ ~ ~
The sky was pouring yet again when Anya stepped onto the pavement outside the prison. She hurried across the road, ignoring a few honks in her direction. She gritted her teeth and burst into the nearest hotel for shelter, absolutely drenched from head to toe. Fortunately, there seemed to only be a few people hanging around the lounge to witness her terrible state. Anya shivered.
Screw it, I deserve a treat.
Anya walked up to the receptionist, who greeted her with a smile that seemed like it would never drop no matter who or what it was directed at. The detective casually directed her wrist to the scanner for a night in a suite room. After all, being a senior inspector was not exactly the least credible profession in the city. And Anya was in one of her rare splurging moods.
She lazed on the bed too big and comfortable for one person, staring at the ceiling as her mind drifted to Jonathan. The interrogation had not exactly gone as expected, but she did have some leads to go on with. Perhaps Jonathan would be able to tell her more. Anya muffled her frustrated screams into the pillow.
Dammit Jon, you better have a bloody good reason for abandoning me like that.
The inspector flipped her body back onto the bed, feeling the exhaustion from the day’s events lull her to sleep.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe2cfKv7r0G
