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"He got another victim." Holmbrau told Haven the instant the younger man entered the warehouse. "I know a taxi driver. He said he dropped off a fare next to a house on Milktreader Way and the secpo were out front of a house across the street. He heard them using those lines you said. Sex worker, run off, the works."
"This morning I sent a courier into the neighborhood with a legitimate package." ibn Salim said from the table where he and Pruitt were bent over a large map of the city. "He spoke to the neighbors. Apartment tossed. Blood splatter. The police are imbeciles."
Haven stopped still. Completely overwhelmed by emotion. Anger, dread, and relief washed through him in a rush. Anger that the evil bastard they sought was able to kill again. A dread that had almost instantly turned to relief. Yasmine lived on 77th Avenue. It wasn't her. She was still safe. For the moment. Just the moment.
"Haven, my friend, you look like five shades of Hell. When are you sleeping?"
"I'm fine Christoff. I came straight from work."
"I'm aware of that but it doesn't explain why you look like a man on his last legs." Christoff said and held out a beer to Haven, who accepted it as an excuse for his hands. "If you don't take proper care of yourself we'll put back out to sea. I won't knowingly sacrifice you to save strangers. Call that cruel but I care more about you than I do about them."
"I appreciate that. I truly do." Haven said and handed back the empty bottle to an astonished Christoff. "I gave my word, comrade. I have to keep it. I have to!"
"Don't test the boy's honor, boss." Pruitt said from where he was examining government reports from within his customary cloud of tobacco smoke. "The lad's dedicated. Respect that. Please."
"I do respect that Benjy! But I also worry over his health! The bastards he works for by day don't!" Christoff said and opened another bottle of beer for Haven. "If he won't think of his health I'll do it for him. You drink this one fast as last you'll be proving my point, friend."
"It tasted good. I'll pace myself." Haven said and moved to join Holmbrau and ibn Salim at the table. "Do we have a photo of the latest,? And a name?"
"Her name's Giedre Urbonierè. This is her." ibn Salim said and handed Haven a small photo of a smiling young woman with braided blonde hair. "Twenty-six years old. Right middle of the age range. No known family in the city."
"These surveillance records are absolutely shite." Pruitt snorted and flung the papers he held onto the desk before him. "They only monitor the roads that pass near police stations and government buildings! What's the bloody use of that? There's dozens of ways to enter and leave the district unnoticed! In every direction except towards Thorncrest. Because of course the rich have to be kept all safe and secure!"
"Have you talked to your source on the Hill?" Christoff asked as he joined Haven at the table. "She probably hears more than we can."
"She sends message when she has news." Haven lied. He was the one who sought her out. From the start. "There's twenty-two thousand living in Goldenrod Hill. She can only be in just so many places. Milktreader Way is further north than the others by quite a bit. I wonder why?"
"It means he marks a target and then follows that target until he knows his time." Holmbrau said and squinted at the map. Trying to see something that wasn't obvious. "Same way you hunt an elk. You work your way into position for the best shot. Mosin, I'm missing something. Look closer for me."
"I'm betting he leaves through Harbringer Flats. It's west end is the canals district. Lots of old warehouses." Pruitt said from his desk. The older man always thought through everything before speaking. "If he's a sadist he won't want anyone near to hear him working. He isn't leaving remains or at least not enough to be identified. If he's doing that? I doubt the deaths are quick. Takes a sick mind to turn a body to mincemeat."
"Maybe you should get in touch with your source." Christoff said softly and took Haven's forearm in a gentle but firm grip. "Let her know that we're already working on this one as well."
"She doesn't understand why you're doing this. I explained to her that you're good men, but, well, you know."
"Oh I know. But that's fine. She doesn't need to understand why we do it." Christoff said and gave Haven's arm another gentle squeeze. "As long as she understands you. That's what matters."
"Grim! Here! Look!" ibn Salim said to Holmbrau and drew everyone's attention. "Municipal alleys! There's one behind every apartment block where he's struck! They all reach a loading courtyard within two blocks! He takes them out and into the alleys! He can hide his vehicle at a loading dock and get to it almost out of sight but for twice crossing a street!"
"He's a strong bastard then!" Holmbrau said and leaned back over the map. "Alright! That's a definite start! Not every apartment block sits as so! We can start eliminating areas, or at least choose those more likely to fit our man's preference!"
"Go. Go, my friend. Reassure your source." Christoff whispered into Haven's ear. "If we have any further revelations I can find you. So go. And then get some rest! You inconsiderate ass!"
"Thank you, Chris."
"Go!"
.
"They're coming up with some notion of the pattern. They know about the latest." He said quietly as Yasmine and he walked along Vizier's Pathway through Camtrin Park. It was cold but there was no wind and she looked absolutely magnificent in white. "If the government cared at all, well, I'm still not sure they'd see it. My friends come from...varied backgrounds. They have insights that constantly surprise me."
"That's not why you're here." She said and took his hand in hers. "You came to reassure me but more to be certain for yourself that I was okay."
"Yes. That's true." He admitted and knew he shouldn't be there and shouldn't be holding her hand. But he was. "I don't like that I can't...that I..."
"Please say it."
"I don't like that you are here and that I can't protect you all the time." He said before his heart could stop the words. "I don't like that you're in any kind of danger. I don't like it."
"Why?"
"Because you matter. You know that."
"I didn't. I do now. Are you that noble? Are you an altruist? Or does this mean more than just that?"
"What would you prefer?"
"The truth."
"You would have that?"
"I would. Please, Haven. Please."
"The truth is that I don't know how this happened. My feelings for you. I'm engaged. I'm...I didn't have any...I didn't intend to do anything but help! Help you! Help all who are being hurt by this man. I didn't know when I met you that...that I would. Oh gods! Who are you? Really? I don't understand! Why I need to be with you! What do you see when you see me? Who am I? Please! Tell me!"
"I see my husband in you and I see you as a man who is more than that. I see the things that make me believe. That the world isn't a horrible place. But. You belong to another. So what I feel, or you feel? It has to be let go."
He felt his heart twisting in his chest. His confusion was so profound that he didn't know what emotions he was feeling. What he did know was what his hand felt. Which was her hand still holding his. They had to let this go. But she was still holding on.
"Yasmine?"
"Yes, Haven?"
"I'm in love with you. And I don't think that I can stop!"
"But you love her still as well."
"Yes. I'm so sorry, but yes!"
"This is a problem then. Well. For now? Let's just walk a bit more."
.
Near the Fountain of The Heroic Champion they kissed. A single kiss. But it was one kiss too many and all the way home all he could think about was the taste of her lips.
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Two days after his meeting with Christoff a drill press operator ignored an oil leak at his work station. Just three hours into the shift the oil caught fire. It melted a line filled with hydraulic fluid which ruptured and sprayed flaming liquid across half a dozen work stations. Nobody thought to turn off the pumps and burning fluid came out under pressure.
Seven men died. The workshop was evacuated until the fire was put out and the casualties removed. Then those whose machines weren't affected were made to return to work. From his lathe Haven could smell acrid smoke and burned flesh. A haze hung in the rafters and he was indelibly reminded of just how little value he held in the eyes of the government.
.
"I didn't know any of them. They were entry level." Haven told Ursula after her passion had returned his heart to his flesh. "Rinzheimer is to blame. Those machines were poorly maintained. Everyone knew. But management wasn't going to shut down machines that were still working."
"What a horrible way to die." Ursula said and kissed his stomach. Her hair on his skin made him think of summer grass and not screaming men on fire trying to run from a death that already gripped them. "Are you alright, love? I don't mean your flesh. I mean your soul. I know your heart. It holds onto suffering because it's just that kind."
"I couldn't help them. It shouldn't have happened but it did and there's nothing I can do about that." Haven said and let his fingers slide through the hair of his heart's treasure. "Tomorrow I'm going to Goldenrod Hill. To get photos of the missing women to take to Christoff and his people. I couldn't help those men. So I'll do my best to help a woman, maybe more than one, that I'll never meet or know."
"Kyriena is dead. I know that. You know that. Mirrabella can't admit that yet. I understand why." Ursula said and turned her head so she could look into his eyes. "If you stop this monster then at least it might help. Nothing brings the dead back but the killer shouldn't walk this world amongst us. You really intend to stop him."
"I have to. I know he's out there now." Haven said and let her fingers upon his cheek give him strength. "The government doesn't care but we do. So we will do what should be done. If I did nothing? Further deaths would be upon my soul. I will be careful though, my sweetest. I will not take, will never take, unnecessary chances."
"I know. My beautiful and amazing man. Your glorious heart belongs to me. No madman can be allowed to take you from me."
.
"Thank you for seeing me. And getting these." Haven said to Yasmine as they sat in a coffee house on Rookery Avenue in the southern quarter of Goldenrod Hill. She was dressed in pale gray and white and was spectacular. "My friends are far more clever than I would have imagined. They are working on creating a description for an invisible man. I find that remarkable."
"I find it remarkable that you are investing so much in this." She said and watched him with unreadable eyes. Her words were kind but her thoughts were her own. "I'm used to promises only half kept. You truly are a good man."
"Thank you. I do my best."
"That's very clear. You do realize that getting near this man will put you in great danger? That he might recognize what you are before you actually know who he is?"
"Yes. I know. I choose this. I have to. It's not a thing I could turn away from." Haven said and then dropped his eyes. He didn't want to see the impact of his next words. "Especially not now that I know you. He hunts here. You live here. That puts you in danger as well. I will not ignore that. Or accept that."
"Why?"
"Because you are intelligent and beautiful and generous. You care for others when so little is given back to you." Haven said and looked into the coffee within the mug held between his hands. "You deserve more than what this world gives. I can't make the world be fair. I can only try to make right that which is within my powers to do so."
"You know that much of me already?" She said and stole his breath when she placed her hand upon his. "How can you say all of this already?"
"You're here. You brought me the photos. These women aren't your family. They weren't even your friends. But you care. Deeply." He said and finally looked up into her eyes. They were bottomless and terrifying in what they said. "I will find this man. I will end his terror. He doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as you."
"What if something does happen to me? If you can't stop him in time?"
"Then I will take him down to Hell personally to make sure the devil gives him his due." Haven said as his heart trembled and his soul spun in a sorrowful confusion.
.
He lay in bed that night contemplating impossibility. He loved Ursula with all of his heart and soul. Yet somehow he was now in love with Yasmine Alizadeah as well. He couldn't understand how it had happened. Had no way to explain how his heart had found a place for her as well.
Her midnight eyes haunted him. He couldn't push the memory of them from his mind. He could still feel how he had felt himself sinking into them. She was beautiful and brave and kind and he didn't know how those around them were unable to see how she shown like the sun placed into the night sky. He couldn't be the only one. Oh, maybe she just chose to be alone. She kept other men away to honor the memory of her late husband.
Why then had she looked at him as she had? Why was she so open and present to him? He wasn't that special. He was nothing that a thousand others weren't also. Yes she wasn't a full citizen and she was a widow but by the unseen mercy of God she was magnificent! The passion in her, that rose in indignant outrage on behalf of strangers, the soul that shone through with a goodness that made her not just beautiful but breathtaking. She wasn't hiding. Others should be able to see her too!
He couldn't be in love with two women. That wasn't possible. Love didn't work that way,! He'd met her three times! Spent a total of perhaps five hours with her! That wasn't enough for love, let alone to fall in love! So why had he said what he did? Well he knew why. Because he meant it and it was true even though it shouldn't be. Especially knowing now, from her eyes, just what his words had meant to her.
She did deserve more. He couldn't be the one to give that to her though. He had Ursula. They were engaged. His love had a path that it was firmly upon. So how had part of his heart wandered into this place? Why did his hand still tingle from her touch? Why did her eyes still look into his even now?
The absolute worst was that he could not extricate himself from this. A killer stalked the innocent. She was in danger as well. There was absolutely no way he could abandon her and no way he could hope to undertake this hunt without her help. Christoff and his people could perhaps decipher the killer's mindset and manners, but Yasmine knew Goldenrod Hill. He needed her.
Needed her.
"Father help me!" He whispered to the ceiling and wished that he believed in God.
.
"Clagger, can you mount presses?"
"You mean install the new machines?" Haven said to Mr. Bushmill, the shift foreman. He took his foot off the lathe's pedal and reached for a rag to wipe his hands. "I'm not an electrician, sir. Or a mechanic. I'm not even sure I could hook up the hoses properly."
"Why not? You work with these things! How hard can it be?"
Haven accepted the insult and looked at the man's pristine suit and soft hands. The sloped shoulders and thin wrists. This was a man who had never worked a day in his life but who thought himself better. Smarter. More deserving of respect.
"I run a lathe sir." He said with the appropriate level of subservience and undeserved respect. "I haven't worked a drill press in years. If an installer isn't available, perhaps ask one of the senior operators in the shop. I wouldn't want to be responsible for another incident if I do the job poorly."
"You people never want to be responsible for anything! Fine! Get back to work! Your piece count won't go up by sitting here being useless!"
"Yes sir. Of course." Haven said and turned back to his station. So that his eyes wouldn't betray the truth. Which was that this man deserved nothing. Absolutely nothing. And that was why this world was a hell. People like that bastard had what they had no right to while those who deserved more, like Yasmine Alizadeah, received nothing.
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The billionaires thrive while day by day they devalue you mine you mimic you mock you belittle you by openly advertising how little you matter how little they care how little they respect humanity. They will replace you with mediocrity with vapid replicants with an illusion that they need more than you do with an illusion they need more than they need you because they need to see themselves as gOds and they create their own congregation with algorithms. You blindly meek meager eager consumer consuming the bullshit buying the lies contributing culpability into the calculations you wide eyed slack jawed slave to the hyperactive diminished attention span circus of exploitation. They know you they own you they despise you they are removing you redacting you they are convincing you that creativity is but code copying crudely in insincere imitation because they hate what they'll never be even more than they hate you. They aren't innovators creators visionaries geniuses. They are immature souls seething with greed they are exploiters they are parasites they are a blight a cancer a portent of the coming collapse that we will deserve for having allowed it all to come to this.
