23- The Story of How We Met.

Just over an hour had passed by the time Quayleigh, Dylan, and Yechiel had finished dinner, and while the conversation had turned to lighter subjects while eating, Yechiel darkened the mood once again, with what seemed a simple question.

"What if the dead aren't sacrifices?"

"Then they're just murders," Quayleigh replied, much to Yechiel's dissatisfaction, and unimpressed scowl. "You asked." She smirked at him as she wiped off her hands before picking up the book, she had set on the floor next to her. "Basically, that leaves either a summons committing the murders or a form of death magic. Sorry to say this, but chances are, if either of those things are true, you're going to be poking around in places, and at people, that aren't going to take kindly to your efforts. If it's death magic, you're going to have to go straight to the MET for more information. And if it's a summons, then you are looking for one hell of a wealthy individual with far reaching connections," she explained before passing the open book over to Yechiel. "This is the only example I have of a summoning spell, but they all work similar; the ingredients will change depending on what you are trying to summon though. This one is for a poison dart frog. See that list of ingredients? A 3oz. bar of 24karat gold, 1/10th oz. of frog venom, 1 pint of blood from a rare or near extinct species, a common frog for sacrifice, twelve different herbs, some of which can't even be purchased in Turnage and at least three I know to be worth more than I make in the month for the gram quantity required, and two oils, one of which is illegal here. Ignoring the pint of blood, because rarity doesn't matter at all when it comes to rituals, any practitioner who isn't a complete amateur could tell you that, and the common frog, the rest of the ingredients are extremely expensive. And this is for a frog. What did the shadow in your video look like?"

"A person. It was the size of a person," he replied as he turned the page and continued to read over what information the pages relayed.

"If a poison dart frog is less than half the size of my hand, how much do you think it would cost to summon something the size of a human? No one is going to waste that sort of money on random victims. Plus, the summons would have to have a way to identify them. There would either be some sort of a mark on the body, or the killer has something that belongs to them. There would have to be something to connect them all together. It also doesn't explain the group. Summoned beings are not intelligent. They are given a singular job and won't deviate. Anything summoned will also only last as long as the practitioner's energy can be maintained, and given the complexity of a summoning, these rituals aren't normally done in groups. Which means this summons would have an extremely limited time to commit the crimes."

"Why aren't they done in groups?" Dylan asked as he picked up his glass and made his way into the kitchen.

"It has to do with how magic works. This world is covered with invisible flows of energy that extend from the core of the planet out into the cosmos. Every living thing on this planet has that same world energy moving through them; it's what many perceive as a soul, but it's what makes us conscious. However, as individuals, we are separate from that source of world energy. When we cast spells, we are using our own energy to tap into that world flow, and we either push or pull on it, to achieve what we want. Runes, and sigils, are how we do that. The ingredients we use are basically like sticking a plug into a socket. Now rituals are more like creating junctions in these flows, and that can be incredibly difficult to control, which is why they are so much more dangerous. That's the basics anyways, it really is far more complicated though," she explained as Dylan refilled his glass before returning to the couch.

"How do you know what something's going to cost?" Yechiel wondered as he closed the book setting it onto the table.

"To be perfectly honest, best educated guess. Saying cost is really an odd way to put it too, since it's not like the world hands you an invoice telling you what you need to pay for something to work. We say cost for lack of a better term, since toll is used when talking about the caster, instead of the ingredients. The first cost is always blood. Without blood, rituals won't work. You need something with the ability to tap into the world energy; blood has always been the best conduit for that since it flows the same way. Now, depending on what you want, determines what else you need. There are ways to calculate that, but it's really complex, and in depth. All you need to know, is the more complex, the more you need. The toll on the caster though is always the unknown. In a way, the cost is the offset to the drain on the caster. If you drain yourself out completely, you die. Compensate too much, the magic goes out of control; which in some cases can also be fatal. Going back to your question though Dylan, when it comes to summoning, the casters have to know exactly what form they want the summon to take. A second caster could alter the initial form and cause the summon to go crazy and turn on the casters. There could also be a disproportionate ratio of power between the casters making it unclear who the master is. There's already so much that can go wrong with this type of spell, a second caster is just an unnecessary risk to add to an already expensive and complex ritual. Given that there are already seventeen bodies, it seems like a complete waste and comically stupid. But it's very possible there are spells out there that I know nothing about. So, if you are going to keep digging, it's best if you bring up this theory with someone more knowledgeable than I."

"I still appreciate everything you've explained though. I've never taken an interest in magic of any form. It always seemed more trouble than it's worth."

"Usually it is," she remarked as she picked up the books. "I'm a bit surprised that the police don't teach more about the subject though. I mean some spells could be really beneficial, like tracking, barricades, personal defense shields; that sort of stuff."

"Yeah, most police have a really skewed view of practitioners. There's a heavy discrimination against them, enforced by the training we're given."

"With good reason, I'm sure," she said with a sarcastic tone, as she returned the books to their places on her shelf.

"I don't know about that." Yechiel smirked at her. "All the practitioners I know seem to be pretty okay."

"So far, anyways," she replied as she moved towards him, "care for another glass?"

"No, I actually need to get going. Thanks again for dinner and the information," Yechiel remarked as she picked up his glass and took it into the kitchen. "And I'll be back tomorrow night with the pictures. Is your number still the same?"

"Yes," Dylan replied as he pointed to his phone on the nightstand. "It's charged now too."

"Great. I'll text if something happens, and I can't make it. For now, I'm heading home to get some sleep. Nothing more disruptive to a solid 8, than a dead body behind a dumpster." Yechiel stretched and scratched the back of his head as he stood and headed towards the door.

"See you tomorrow," Dylan said as he watched Yechiel put on his shoes and coat, before checking his pockets.

"One last thing, I'd move that car of yours into Quays' spot for the night. Might spare it from being vandalized or stolen."

"I'll take care of it soon," Dylan replied as Yechiel opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure he does something about it. Take care, Detective. See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Quayleigh, Dylan."

As Yechiel walked away, Quayleigh closed the door and no sooner had she locked it, when she found herself embraced from behind.

"I'm glad he left," Tau whispered in her ear.

"Me too, but at the same time, I'm glad he came," she replied as she turned around to face him.

"You wanted him here?"

"It wasn't my first choice," she said as she leaned in, wrapping her arms around him. "Another day would have better, but we don't always get to choose opportune moments." As his arms tightened around her, she breathed in the smell of his shirt, drowning out the lingering smell of pizza in the air. "Tau, thank you for going along with the story I told him."

"It wasn't difficult," he remarked, the weight of his hand pressing against the back of her head, "I don't have Dylan's memories, saying I forgot them isn't that much of a stretch."

"Even so, thank you. I'm super glad he didn't bother questioning you on how we met though. That may have gotten awkward considering what I told him."

"What did you tell him?" he asked as she slid from his arms and head back into the living room.

"I told him a plausible story," she admitted as she closed up the empty pizza box.

"Will you tell me our story? I'd like to know how we met."

"I was about to do just that." Carrying the box into the kitchen, she grabbed a new garbage bag from under her sink and wrapped it up. "I'll take care of that when I go to move the car." Moving back towards the couch she held out her hand to him, "before that though, I'd rather regal you with the story of how we met."

Taking her hand, he followed her back to the couch, where he sat down in his usual spot at her direction. Grabbing the pillow off the bed, she tossed it onto his lap, before stretching out on the couch, and enjoying the sight of looking up at him as he seemed completely uncertain of what to do.

"You can touch me, Tau. I'm not going to break."

"I know, but I still don't want to hurt you."

"Then you never should have called that number the bartender gave you," she said with a wink, as he slowly set his hand against her stomach, while he cautiously began to run the fingers of his other hand through the lengths of her hair. "I know it's hard to recall, you were pretty drunk that night. The bartender started talking with you and when he found out you had lost your fiancée, he gave you the number of his former grief support group sponsor, who just so happened to be me. A lively, yet terribly scarred woman from the Downs. The massive hangover you suffered the following morning was reason enough for you to call. I told you I didn't want your real name because your story was yours to tell, and it guaranteed that I would never know it before you were ready to reveal it all to me. So, you told me your name was Tauluthet. I call you Tau for short. We talked, a lot. Then one day, you vanished on me. We had never met before, and all I knew was the sound of your voice."

"When did we meet for the first time?" he asked as he watched the way her hair slid through his fingers, enjoying the way the light reflected off each strand, and how cool, and soft it felt on his skin.

"I suppose it wasn't too long ago. My phone rang and when I answered there was a man on the other end saying that he had found you and you seemed confused and disoriented, and when he asked if you needed help, you handed him my card, so he called. He told me you were at the Blue Box Café, but by the time I managed to arrive you were already gone. I suppose you saw me though, because you started showing up at my work, buying candy bars, water and mints. I only recently found out you were living in the homeless camp on Caldwell, and now you are here with me. So, we're trying to piece together everything that happened between when we last spoke on the phone, and when you started showing up at the store."

"That's a nice story. I almost wish it was true."

"It's the best I could come up with, and it's not like we can tell Yechiel the real truth."

"Is that why you didn't tell him that I was responsible for the deaths?"

Sitting up, she turned to look at him, her brow scrunching as she reached up and set her hands against his cheeks, "Tau, you listen to me, no one is going to believe that you aren't human. We have to keep Yechiel close. We need to know that they aren't looking in your direction. They won't understand that you're just doing your job. They will label you a murderer, and they will put you in jail. Even if I give them all the evidence in the world and they believe me, then they will know you're a reaper and that could be far worse than waiting for your execution. I want to set you free, Tau. And in the meantime, I will do whatever it takes to protect you. Even if I have to play nice with the Detective."