Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Richmond Police Station, DI Marchant

The interview room felt smaller with each passing minute. I leaned back in my chair, fighting the urge to massage my aching temples. My eyes flicked to DC Hews, noting the slight droop in his shoulders. The young detective was clearly feeling the strain of this fruitless interrogation. Even Ms. Russel seemed to be growing restless, her pen tapping an irregular rhythm on her legal pad.

Raven sat across from us, her posture relaxed, almost bored. The white paper bodysuit she wore crinkled softly with each breath, the sound unnaturally loud in the tense silence. Her dark eyes, sharp and alert, missing nothing.

We'd been at it for over an hour already, every question met with a monotone 'No Comment', not a single flicker of reaction until I mentioned last night's body. There, I caught a minute lifting of her shoulders and tightening around her eyes, it was time to push a little.

"You claimed to know last night's victim Raven… Can you at least help us find her family so we can let them know what's happened?"
For the first time since we’d started she glanced at her solicitor, I paused with baited breath giving her time, hoping she'd give us something.

"We already know," she sighed, fidgeting with the cuff of the body suit nervously. It looked like she wanted to say more, a lot more, but those three little words, none of which were 'no' or 'comment', were an opening I could follow.

"So, how were you related to the victim?"

There was another long pause before she answered, "She's, umm, she was my sister," hesitant at first, her voice grew stronger and more fluid as she continued, "half-sister, I guess. Different mothers, same adoptive father, it’s kinda complicated. We were thick as thieves growing up. I," She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself, coming to an abrupt stop.

"What were you about to say Raven?"

"Nothing,” she snapped, “it wasn't important, she's dead and talking about her won't bring her back."

Yeah, no. She was definitely hiding something there, but I didn’t have a clue what it might be. We went back and forth on the subject of family for a while, as in I put forth more questions and she went back to 'no comment' answers.

I looked down at the note Hews passed me, and nodded once, it was time to move on. We could always circle back to the topic of her family history later.

I pulled several photographs the medical examiner had taken during her assessment, fanning them over the table.

"For the tape, I am showing the suspect police exhibits 228-1 through 228-10. What can you tell me about these images Raven?"

She glanced over the photographs, pulling the first few towards her, "These are obviously some of my tattoos," reaching for the next she paused momentarily before continuing, "my back, I assume. Of course I've never actually seen those scars before, but yeah, it looks like they feel."

"Yes, your back. Looks like you were beaten, thoroughly and repeatedly," I tried to maintain my professional detachment, but it was hard not to react to the pictures. There was no getting around the fact that she must have been beaten extensively at some point, maybe she was another victim in this mess. “Give me something here,” I demanded, “who did this to you? A partner? Your parents? Dealer? Pimp?”

Nothing, not the slightest reaction as I spat out the list of usual suspects. She was either the world’s best actress or I was barking up the wrong tree entirely. "And what about these burns,” I asked, flicking to the last pictures, “who did this to you?"

"What can I say," she raised an eyebrow, "sticks and stones may break my bones but whips and chains," she smiled wickedly, "excite me."

Hews coughed back something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh and the atmosphere in the room shifted palpably. Frustrated, I fought the urge to snap at both of them, but knew I had to keep it professional. She’s deflecting, I thought with a smile of my own, this must be something significant.

I turned to Hews, ready to remind him to focus and that’s when all hell broke loose.

***

Raven

Shit! Shit! Shitshit-shitshit Shit!

Everything had been going as well as could be expected but this… this wasn’t supposed to be happening. OK, I’d nearly slipped earlier when we were talking about Lily, where we grew up wasn’t an issue, but revealing when would have put all sorts of unwelcome thoughts involving cosy leather jackets and padded rooms back in to their heads.

I’d thought I’d just let myself fall under the spell of the monotonous questioning. Not an actual spell, I mean who expects a witch to be working with the Met? But now? I wasn’t so sure.

The smirk faded from my lips and I tuned the woman out as I felt the power suddenly start to build in the room. My eyes locked on the young Welsh sounding copper as he unconsciously traced his finger over one of the glyphs they’d photographed earlier.

Ice crept through my veins as frost rimed towards me across the tabletop. I dropped the photograph I’d been looking at and snatched my hands back, wondering just how bad this was going to be. I didn’t have to wonder for long.

The power in the room surged, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. DC Hews' eyes rolled back into his head leaving only the whites showing as a faint blue glow emanated from the photograph under his fingertip.

"What the—" my solicitor screamed, her voice cutting off into a stunned silence as the glyph on the photo suddenly burst into brilliant light.

Fuck my life! Not a witch. Hews was a latent. A bloody powerful one too judging by that flare.

I didn't have time to think. My body moved on pure instinct. In one fluid motion, I leapt across the table, scattering photos and papers everywhere. I yanked the photo from Hews' hand and shoved him away, hopefully breaking his contact with the glyph before the flare burnt him out – and gritted my teeth as the familiar energy flooded through me.

"Contrarium!" I shouted, knowing it was probably already too late. There’s no chance they would have missed that, they would be coming.

The room exploded into chaos. DI Marchant jumped to her feet, her chair clattering to the floor behind her. "Stop!" she yelled as she stepped towards me.

I could feel the magic pulsing through me, responding to the activated beacon. My skin tingled with barely contained energy. Without thinking, I turned, thrusting my hand out towards the scattered documents. I felt a weight land on my back as the papers burst into flames, curling and blackening in seconds.

***

DI Marchant

What the fuck? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone move that fast before. She was across the table and grabbing Hews before I could blink. With a flick of her wrist she’d tossed him into the wall where stumbled about, trying to stay upright as he fumbled for the panic alarm.

Me? I was dead weight on her back, a semi-legal choke hold locked in, yet she carried me around the room effortlessly as she first stopped, and then ejected both tapes from the recorder before dropping them on the floor and stomping them to tiny plastic pieces with her bare feet. The sharp plastic fragments and my presence seemingly completely inconsequential to her.

Note to self, don't get in the way of her feet. I swear there were a few new dents in the laminate. Hews finally gave up on upright and sat, back to the wall looking dazed while the solicitor was pressed against the wall, her eyes wide with terror.

I was on my own, for now.

"Sit," she said conversationally, as she dropped me back on a chair. I watched thoroughly confused as she calmly picked through the smouldering photographs before dropping to her knees in the middle of the room. Sighing, she crossed her ankles and placed her hands on top of her head with her fingers interlocked before looking back to me, "We need to talk. No, not now, there isn’t time… we won't have to wait long."

Sure enough, heavy footsteps could be heard approaching the door. Hews must have managed to hit the alarm after all. It didn’t look like there’d be anything for them to do now but at least the cavalry was coming, although I had to wonder how useful they’d be if she chose to be difficult again. Seriously, just what kind of psycho were we dealing with here?

The little lost lamb act, and it had to be an act after that display, had been convincing enough that even I had been feeling sympathetic towards her but now... Half a dozen uniformed bodies piled into the room, the door slamming shut behind them. Four surrounded the suspect, who still hadn't moved from her chosen spot, whilst others came over to check on Hews and me.

“You want us to take her back to the cells?" One of the backup officers enquired, obviously confused about whatever the hell had happened in here.

Hell I was confused enough, and I'd been in here the whole time. I was prevented from answering him immediately by the ringing of the intercom.

Raven studiously ignored everyone else, her eyes following me as I walked towards the phone, studying me like a particularly interesting specimen. "You asked about my back,” she said solemnly as I grabbed the receiver, “be careful what you say."