Private Investidemons Ch. 01

"It seems unlikely there is one acting alone, even though they are usually solitary hunters, how many of them are there truthfully? Where do they make camp?" The question was met with immediate hysterical laughter. Skye knew the error as the words were thought up. There were two questions.

"Five. I promised only one answer. You know how it works."

It could have ended worse. The fact he chose to answer at all was a surprise. Talking business with a demon required a great deal of care and intricacy. It had been the downfall of many budding and even experienced, occultists.

Skye solemnly nodded, closing her eyes. It wasn't necessary, but easier that way. She imagined a giant vacuum sucking the demon up before his dusty remains were crushed into ink and stabbed into the back of her hand. The whole visualisation process was only an aid. Glancing down the three skulls had returned to their rightful place on the back of her hand. Salvoch was gone from across the table, returned to his prison.

He had come in handy more than once. Even saving her. The Dream Eater had been moments away from consuming her wakefulness, only to be decapitated by a demon.

The near-death experience had given Salvoch material form, their forceful contract weakening. Yet Skye's death wasn't in his best interest, it would see his banishment. Even being imprisoned in a tattoo was better than that.

Skye ate the rest of her breakfast in appreciated peace and quiet, both from the occupants of the cafe, and Salvoch and the others. The elderly couple left before too long, then the two tradesmen, leaving Skye as the only customer. It wasn't too long before a rotund, suit-wearing man entered, regarded as a regular by Wendy. There was even a hint of flirting there. Not too long after that two young boys entered, ordering only a plate of chips between them. Likely skipping school, but nobody seemed to care. Skye finished her breakfast with the people of the establishment as her entertainment. There was a certain peace found in people watching.

It was only a temporary distraction. Fed and refuelled, it was time for business. Skye thanked Wendy and told her to keep the change. A large tip, to be sure, likely the biggest the woman had seen in months. The people of the small village were impoverished. That much had been obvious from the number of shuttered shops on the main street. Skye had passed a reptile store, a greengrocer, and a vacuum repair shop, all shut down on her way to the cafe.

Collecting her umbrella from where she'd left it, she stepped back out into the unrelenting rain. Perhaps after the first order of business, she might have to look into that as well, clearly, it was unnatural. To most, it was merely rain, but standing there outside the cafe there was a decidedly sulphuric scent to it.

Skye sighed. Never a dull day. She had hoped that perhaps in the most unlikely scenario she might have overheard something useful in the cafe. But, alas, it seemed it wasn't her lucky day.

She mourned the loss of her golden ring; it had saved her from Salvoch and a plethora of others. Now more than likely it was at the bottom of Lake Superior, joining the Edmund Fitzgerald. Fucking krakens. She had pondered, at the time, whose terrible idea it had been to let loose a kraken in a lake, they were bad enough in the sea.

Her traversal of the rest of the main street was a sad affair. She passed more and more shuttered shops. The only remaining stores she spotted to be open were a butcher, a corner shop, and the café she had breakfast in. Thankfully the village was small. In only a few minutes she found herself before the local police station.

The lead she was chasing up on was a long shot, but at the very least it had the potential to be something. An elderly woman in the previous town had recommended she speak with Chief Inspector Dobbs. His wife had been a notable Wiccan, something she'd gotten a lot of flak for. Fife had once known witches, and Skye had a sneaking suspicion the woman had simply rebranded. Back in the sixties, the woman had even helped the police crack two cases. There was a chance Dobbs' wife would have some inclination about what was going on. A long shot, but one worth chasing up for sure.

The police station was a small, standalone building, looking more like a converted house than anything. Closing her umbrella once more and leaving it by the door, she stepped inwards.

Skye paused at the boundary, glancing down. She'd sensed it before seeing it. A line of salt had been drawn. She noted it before stepping across, feeling the expected wave of pain wash over herself. Fortunately, she'd spent several nights in the alps practising. Only because of the demonic influence tied to the army of demons trapped in her tattoos did it affect her. A small price to pay.

It made sense given the information she had received. She half expected to find the lobby of the police station with burning incense and a ritual circle in the back. If the woman was, as Skye believed, a witch then it wasn't out of the question.

Messing with a witch wasn't high on her to-do list, and she intended to be as polite as possible. The traditional sort with their knowledge passed down from their ancestors were dangerous. Skye hoped the woman wouldn't have the sense in her old age to detect the demonic influence upon her.

Trying her best to keep a smile, she appraised the man behind the desk. A young man, likely no more than thirty, sporting a clean-shaven head with a tidy but lengthy beard. He wasn't the Chief Inspector Dobbs she was seeking. The man's son instead, perhaps.

"Morning." She bowed her head, knowing it was better than not to show respect.

"Morning, ma'am. Sergeant Dobbs. How might I be of service?"

Skye noted the man had shifted forwards, likely appraising her in return. Her appearance was a far cry from what it had once been. Her skin had paled and there were bags under her eyes. Not to mention the ink littering her body from the neck down. Trousers and a collared coat went a long way in hiding it. Her hair was a mess though, the black locks hanging lifelessly about either side of her face.

"A simple inquiry. Is the Chief Inspector around?"

"Afraid not. He's taken ill. They say it could be cancer. He's left me in charge in the meantime."

"I'm sorry to hear." Skye gave pause, considering her course of action. It wasn't quite the Chief Inspector she was seeking. The young man, if he was his son, could be her path to the truth instead.

"Is it possible I may call upon Mrs Dobbs? She was a friend of my mother while she still lived. They moved in the same circles."

The man shook his head, sporting a rather grim look. "I'm sorry to hear, but I'm guessing you've been gone for a while. My mother passed away two years back. Dad was never the same." He paused briefly before continuing, clearly trying to shake not only the memories but potential thoughts of the future away. "Did you grow up around here?"

"Close." Skye offered a smile. It was unlikely the young man was going to be of any use, it was clear he was still grieving his loss, and it seemed he was likely to lose his father too. "We moved around a lot. We stayed nearby for a while. Mum was a Wiccan too. Part of the reason we moved so much."

Visibly the man relaxed, shifting back in the chair behind the desk, though still keeping a watchful eye on the woman before him. "We must be about the same age. You don't seem familiar."

"I get that a lot. Home-schooled. Mum wasn't a fan of the school system, to say the least." Stepping closer to the desk she was able to get a good look at the name displayed on his uniform, Constable Ryan Dobbs. Skye noted the name.

Ryan in return let out a laugh, sporting a real smile. "I can get that. Probably would have been the same for me if it hadn't been for dad."

"It wouldn't be possible to call upon your father? I was hoping your mother might have kept some photographs. I don't have any of mine." There was truth to it, she indeed didn't have any. Both her parents had been dead for a while.

"Afraid not. He's on all sorts of drugs from the doctors. Poor old man's barely making sense. They say he's got a good chance of pulling through, but they aren't making any bets on it."

Skye gave a slight nod. A shame, to be sure. The option did remain, but without permission as an unwanted visit. There was a chance Mrs Dobbs had kept journals, or had been in possession of other interesting occult paraphernalia. But it was perhaps not worth the risk.

She figured Ryan knew how to handle himself, the fabric of his shirt was clinging tightly around the muscles of his upper arms. It was impossible to determine his height seated behind the desk, but if fit with the wideness of his shoulders then he was a big lad. She didn't want to get on his bad side. She could handle him, for sure, but would rather it didn't come to that. Becoming wanted by the police up and down the country was the opposite of a good idea.

"Will that be all, ma'am?"

Her thoughts had drifted once more, stuck ogling the muscles of his upper arms. That wasn't the norm for her, not while chasing up something dangerous. Yet, she did miss the warm, calming embrace of a man. Perhaps it was because of how she missed Sam. He had been her first and last male partner. There had been plenty of women, but Sam remained the only guy.

"Yes, thank you." The words came out quieter than she had intended. It had to be one of the demons pushing hard to mess with her. These feelings were too foreign. Or a symptom that she was ready to move on. She pushed that last thought from her mind, clinging to the memory of Sam.

"Erm..." Ryan shifted forwards once more. "With dad out of commission, I'm the only bobby on the beat. They said they'll be sending someone out from Dunfermline to help out. But my shift is finished at five. Maybe you'd want to, erm, grab dinner or something?"

Skye had to stifle a laugh. Was he really that desperate? Skye guessed the small population of the village gave him slim pickings. Perhaps he had a thing for dark, mysterious travellers. It was flattering, to be sure, especially knowing how dreadful she looked.

"Dinner?" The reply was dumb. She knew it as soon as the word left her lips.

"Well, we don't exactly have much in the way of fine dining, but Pleasant Cottage gets us by." He paused briefly, a slight redness rushing to his cheeks. It was clear he was starting to regret opening his mouth. "It's uh... Fine if not. Sorry for asking." Clearly, he was seeing the astonished look on her face.

Skye was stuck. She wanted to turn him down. But the only other person in her life was commonly mistaken for a werebeast and couldn't exactly join her at a public establishment. Wynn had encouraged her to get out and let her hair down more often.

"Sure." The words were out before she'd truly finished thinking about it. It wasn't the demons; she couldn't blame them for this. Wynn told her often enough it was time to move on from Sam. She was ready for it, and needed it, clinging too hard to the past.

Ryan immediately looked shocked, as though he hadn't expected it to work. It shouldn't have worked. "Great! How about I meet you there, say at six?"

"Sure." A singular word again, she wasn't sure what else to say. She had accepted a dinner invite from a total stranger and still wasn't sure why. Perhaps Wynn was right. Yet, whether she actually turned up was going to depend on how the rest of her day went.

"See you then!" There was a happy chirp to Ryan's voice, and his posture straightened. He was easy on the eyes; Skye couldn't deny that.

Yet dinner wasn't going to help solve the mystery of the missing men, nor put her any closer to stopping it. He wasn't going to be of any use unless he could commune with the dead.

Skye shifted her weight, reaching a hand into the pocket of her jacket. She clutched at the stopped pocket watch within. It looked battered and ancient, the glass upon the face cracked. Even broken things could be useful. A click-click of the notch on the top and it was time, or really lack thereof.

Around her the colour slowly drained from the world, everything fading to a dull grey. Eventually, even the grey would drain from it. A step forward then a glance back and she could see herself standing in place, hand still in her pocket.

It was a trinket, a useful one, but a dangerous one. Chronomancy was among the most dangerous of disciplines, and one she refused to dabble in. Thankfully the trinket wasn't of her own design, she had traded for it. The mage she'd gotten it from hadn't understood how it functioned. He had settled for a singular phoenix feather for it.

Skye lifted her hand, the pocket watch there. The hand was counting backwards from sixty, it was neither seconds nor minutes. She couldn't be entirely sure. She had tried to count many times, every time coming up with a different result, or losing track entirely. On those occasions when she had lost count, she'd found herself almost out of time. As though the device was trying to punish her for attempting to decipher its secrets. After that, she had given up trying to understand it. It worked, and that was what mattered.

Instead, she lifted her left hand, rolling up the sleeve of her jacket. The ink on her forearm displayed a skeletal figure, bound to a cross, held in place by iron nails. The demon Rezrarun was trapped within. He was dangerous, they all were, but he was especially. Where Salvoch's threat was almost purely physical, Rezrarun's danger was in his guile and wits.

Rezrarun materialised before her in mere seconds. He took the form of an elderly male wearing an outfit that was centuries out of place. He was among the oldest yet most civil she had imprisoned. His appearance was a deliberate ruse, that much she had learned. He was far more dangerous than he appeared.

"It's that time." The words were solemn, Rezrarun reminded her of her mother, as distant as the memories were. The woman hadn't deserved her fate. He had been trying to hunt Skye, she had merely been an unfortunate casualty. It had been the very act that allowed Skye to ensnare him. A breach of contract with his master, the murder of an innocent. Now he unwillingly served another, albeit on an incredibly short leash. Skye was reluctant normally to bring him out. She knew there was a small chance he could trick her. Or otherwise, convince her into something beneficial to him.

"Strange murders here and nearby villages. Men are going missing. Six of them so far, all hunters. I figure I know what it is, but check for me, will you?"

Rezrarun turned as she spoke, the facade he wore was humble but ancient, even carrying a cane. "Him?" Skye merely nodded. The demon lifted an arm. Black tendrils of smoke extended forth to make contact with and swirl around Sergeant Dobbs' head. She figured Ryan knew nothing, but there was no harm in checking.

Skye checked the pocket watch, noting the hand was close to halfway. The time-stop marble around them was unpredictable and unstable at the best of times. To be still present when the hand reached zero was likely to be fatal, she didn't care to find out. Around them, the colour continued to drain from the world. Leaving them standing amidst a black void. Only the floor and the desk were still visible.

Once more she checked the watch. The hand had jumped, pointing towards the ten-minute mark. "Enough, Rezrarun. Tell me what he knows."

The demon's look was one of disappointment as the black tendrils withdrew, giving a shake of his head. "Can't tell. Couldn't penetrate his mind. He's got protection of some sort. Not the pleasant sort either. There are layers."

Skye narrowed her gaze. It was unlike Rezrarun to lie. That meant more than likely he was telling the truth. If a being as old and as powerful as Rezrarun was unable to infiltrate Ryan's mind then something was amiss. Perhaps she would attend their dinner date after all if only to try to find out more. Or for some odd reason, the demon was lying to her.

Skye nodded once more and clicked the notch on the watch. Rezrarun vanished into a swirl of black smoke that billowed towards her arm, even politely rolling down her sleeve. Around her, the colour spilt forth from the watch itself back into the world.

Within the enclosed lobby of the police station, no time at all had passed, even though outside the world had continued. Trying to consider how it worked had given her a headache. If the time didn't pass, how was she in the present? That was her biggest question, even Rezrarun didn't have the answer.

Sam had posed the question once of why she didn't simply use the pocket watch and then do her business. He had failed to grasp the relation between the time stop marble and reality itself. It was impossible to enact any impact or change upon the world from within. It was a powerful tool, but only for buying time to think, or conduct acts such as Rezrarun had just attempted. A far cry from true chronomancy. She was yet to find someone or something with those capabilities and hoped she never would.

Even Rezrarun and Salvoch together with the promise of freedom would likely only be able to empower her to create a reality marble. An impressive feat, but still leaps and bounds away from true chronomancy. A demon's power was great but still had limitations. The strength of their anchor to the mortal plane was directly correlated to their power. Even a weak demon with a strong binding was more powerful than a strong demon with a weak binding.

The fact that she could burn her imprisonment to the demons in return for a surge of power was a fact she kept in the back of her mind for desperate situations. The idea of the exchange being the creation of a reality marble had been Rezrarun's suggestion. It took the most powerful of mages to create such a feat, or even a group of them together. The rules within a reality marble didn't have to adhere to reality, instead set and influenced by the creator. A powerful mage within a reality marble was comparable to a god.

Such an exchange would have to result in freedom for the demon, a form of payment for the great power granted, even if it was only temporary. As such, any of the demons she had imprisoned were more than willing at any time to make such an exchange. She had been promised many such boons, but couldn't allow them freedom. The exchange would create a binding contract outside of reality and time alike. The two or more involved parties would be unable to act against one another.

Back in the present Ryan was still smiling at her. For him, nothing had been out of the ordinary, with no interruption to his perceived flow of time. Yet it was clear from Rezrarun that something was out of the ordinary with the constable. A charm, perhaps. It would have to be a potent one to keep a demon from reading his mind. Skye made a final mental note to chase it up later. He didn't seem dangerous, and as such the other matter would have to come first.

"I'll see you later then, Ryan."

Skye collected her umbrella from the door before stepping back out into the rain, swearing it was heavier than only minutes prior. The fact she was yet to find accommodation was a problem if only for the privacy it granted. She had her own accommodation, and accessing and using it without notice was the problem.

Dipping into the alleyway between the police station and the nearest house she swung the leather satchel from her shoulder, dumping it down against the wall. It was a battered bag, the leather worn and faded, and the buckle on it was loose too. But, as with most things she carried, it was more than it seemed.

The bag wasn't used for exactly storage, instead, it was a portable, enchanted reality portal. It did contain the majority of her worldly possessions, but its main purpose was something else. It was a permanently present door to another plane, separate and unattached from the mortal realm. Many such planes or dimensions existed, and on her travels had learned about more and more of them. Some were dangerous, others completely innocuous. A powerful mage could open such portals, but there was a chance of getting lost and being unable to find a way back.