Whose the fairest of them all

Lieutenant Woods —

“Maybe she found a lead and is out and about…” Frankie supplied.

He was trying to be helpful, but something about this felt off.

“Look, you can keep calling her, but we should really move on with the information we have. Though I would really appreciate her being here for this.”

Frankie was really wishy-washy about having Siri present, which gave me even creepier vibes than her not picking up.

“Please tell me you don’t...”

“Huh? Oh, give me a break! We just need extra hands. I’m not sure the boys are equally prepared to handle what they might encounter. Speaking of this, you should be the one to give that old grumpy judge the call for the warrant. He rather hates my guts lately.”

Hate is putting it mildly. Frankie had said some rather egregious things about the man’s wife. I will not delve into the details, but he should apologize.

“You shouldn’t say things like that out loud, ever. Especially in front of the man whose wife you’re talking about.”

“They were compliments! And a joke. I mean, they are so large—”

“Frankie!”

***

It took some time, but one deputy I knew on patrol near the area of the judge’s residence picked up the warrant. We were all going to meet at Smitten Kittens, however...

“So, Frankie, where is it?”

“Umm...”

Frankie gave me an address—a place off of Carnival Ave. We must have driven along the block several times, going back and forth, easing past each alley and side street to find nothing of the sort.

When I asked him what sort of establishment I should look for or whether he’s been there, he shrugged with a “Nope” and “I don’t know” expression that left me stepping on the brake.

“Frankie, go walk and scout the area?”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t know where you are going?”

“Me?! You’re the one who goes on and on about how you know the city like the back of your hand.”

“Come off it! If you don’t know where this place is—”

“That’s not true! It’s just—I know the general area,” Frankie confessed.

I sprang to the radio, calling for those out to keep their eyes peeled. Then, a soft tap struck my window.

“Gianni? What are you doing?” I asked.

“Can’t find the place, can you?”

“That’s none of your business. Now head home, or I will arrest you.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been running in circles for an hour. Like it or not, the Winters have eyes and ears all over these streets. The Boss is already there—waiting patiently for you to do your damn job.”

Gianni’s disclosure offered mixed emotions. I couldn’t get upset about him passing along the news he overheard from me and Frankie to Winslet—after all, he wasn’t one of my men. I don’t know why I thought he would keep that information to himself.

“It’s down on 2nd Ave. Follow me.”

***

“Lieutenant…”

“Mrs. Winters… You shouldn’t be here.”

Of course, I was concerned for her well-being and the fact that she was present at a police scene.

“Wrong, I am right where I need to be.” Out of the blue, she stepped forth to bring herself close. It caught me off guard even more when she straightened my tie. “You look well rested, good.”

“Uh, um…” Lost for words, she continued.

“I want to see them burn. But I understand your rules and procedures. If what Gianni spoke of is true, then all the more reason I must refrain from causing too much trouble for you.”

“And what is it that Gianni spoke of?”

“The mention of folklore and fairytales...”

“And do you believe him?”

“I believe you will bring justice for Luca.”

“Is that all?”

“...” Winslet didn’t bother to answer my question. Instead, she just eyed me for a long moment. “The world is a big place, Lieutenant. I didn’t bring many along with me, but should you need the extra hands, please do not hesitate?”

Her gaze shifted to the entrance of an alley.

Frankie, at my heels, directed the other officers to canvas the surrounding venues. We slipped into the narrow passage between two buildings—a tight space that seemed to defy architectural logic. The alley stretched impossibly long, swallowing perspective like a snake consuming its own tail. No intersecting street broke its impossible line of sight.

I knew these streets. Or thought I did.

This was new. Brand new.

Storefronts lined the corridor, a bizarre bazaar catering to tastes that existed somewhere between hallucination and commerce. Exotic. Unsettling. Each storefront blended into the next, unified by a strange purple haze that seemed to pulse with its own consciousness.

“So this is Smitten Kittens?”

“Yeahhh, I think so…” Frank answered with little confidence. “Ya girl described it as much, but…”

“Hello. Would you care to spend some time with me?”

“Don’t mind if I do—”

“Pardon us, ladies,” I said, cutting in to make sure desires over work didn’t consume Frankie. I flashed my badge. “Can we speak to your manager?”

The woman retreated. Their eyes shifted from one another as a low hum of murmurs and whispers rattled among those in the night-knit alley.

“Oi,” came a voice. An individual with a pale face and straw hair stepped from the shadows. He had a strange scar from one crease of his lips to his cheekbone. I hate to see the other guy. His eyes were sunken, with a discolored hue around them. It immediately was off, putting his eyes on you as if he were looking from behind a mask. “You causing trouble?”

“Just asking questions. Mind if we look around? We got a warrant.”

“I do mind.”

“You in charge?” I asked in my most authoritative tone.

“Nope.”

“So then, don’t mind us.”

“Alright then.”

Just like that, his tune changed.

“Come on then. Let me show to the back.”

Frankie, whose collar was soaked, huddled behind me as I turned to him. He looked pale, his hand gripping his belt, with his firearm just a finger’s length away.

“You all right?”

“M-me?!” he stammered under his breath, clearly unsettled. “Are you not? Don’t you feel that? I’m bloody terrified. I think I might have actually soiled myself.”

“Over what?”

Frankie gulped as he watched the man leading the way. I wasn’t sure what had my friend so scared, but I took each step with caution.

The second level we entered resembled a lounge, more like a club within a club, adorned with fancier decorations and furniture. Against the dark plum violet backdrop illuminated by neon lights and haze, I spotted a few vampires, their eyes glowing an eerie red in the dim light.

None of the individuals seemed to offer any inviting words to be in our company, as they, too, seemed too sacred even to move.

“This way, friends,” the man leading said, gesturing to a door. “The boss is back there.”

My hand hesitated for a moment as it drew near to touch the doorknob. Something was definitely something off-putting about it. Taking a moment to give the individual a second glance, he raised his hands as if to concede.

“She’s back there,” he assured.

The door stood out like a raw wound—splintered, uneven, incongruent with the building’s solid construction. It sat embedded in the brickwork as if accidentally grafted, a foreign element barely tolerating its own existence.

I pushed it open, expecting answers. Instead, a brick wall stared back, blank and unyielding.

“What sort of joke is this...”

I turned. The familiar hallway had vanished, replaced by an impossible corridor that stretched into infinity. Doors lined both sides, each a unique fragment of possibility. Different shapes, colors, and materials—a kaleidoscope of potential realities, each threshold promising something stranger than the last.

Endless. Impossible. And somehow, right here.

““What the…””

Frankie and I were speechless. The sight defied what we knew on every level.

“Well, I will be damned. Woody, I think we should get the bloody hell out of here. We might be way over our heads. Call for that backup now!”

I had already moved before he could finish. My radio, though? Dead silence. No signal, no static—nothing.

Then, a door creaked open.

A sliver of darkness—not just an absence of light, but a void so complete it seemed to devour reality itself. The kind of darkness that makes shadows look bright.

My skin prickled. Instinct screamed a single, urgent command: run.

My service weapon was in my hand before I’d consciously decided to draw it.

“Frankie…”

“Run!”

“What?”

A smile emerged from the darkness—impossibly wide, impossibly wrong. No human mouth could stretch like that, a grotesque crescent that seemed stitched onto the void itself.

The door exploded open.

I took off.

I didn’t look back. Didn’t need to. Something was coming—something massive, something hungry. The air itself felt heavy with pursuit.

“Woody!”

Frankie’s voice called to me from an open door. But for some reason, I felt myself drawn to another. One dipped in crimson just a few more down.

“I’ll catch up,” I shot, running past.

Digging my heels down to slow, I grabbed the doorknob to open quickly. Stepping inside and slamming the door behind me, I stood in a field of finely trimmed lush lawn grass. It was thick and coarse, with an unnatural green hue to it.

It looked like it expanded endlessly in all directions, just as much as the hall I had fled from. It felt serene with such beauty to see aside from one thing. It was small, but it stood out like a stain.

It was red, cool to the touch, but sticky. It clung to a single blade of grass. Not too far away, there was another one coated all the same. Then another one, and again another one. The more I followed this trail, the messier it got—from one single blade of grass to several random spots painted in the stuff.

At the end of everything, a trunk seeped in red from top to bottom. Its true color was difficult to discern as it rested underneath. It took little to reassess what sort of paint it was.

I then noticed an axe not too far away. I recognized it as I had something similar.

A fear washed over me, leaving me to fall to my knees. I had a feeling I knew what was in front of me, but I didn’t want to know for sure. I feared that if I did, I might lose it.

Who knows how long I sat there on my knees. My hands clenched against my thighs so tight I thought I could rip the very skin through my pants. It took so much strength to work up the courage to face the truth finally.

I eased open the lid to the horror of what was inside, taking to unlatching the two locks one at a time. Various torn limbs, deep wounds so severe that they put what condition we found Luca in, to shame.

My jaw tensed as I held onto the rim of the trunk. Part of me wanted to throw up.

“I am so sorry…”

Doubtful anyone could hear my mumbling under my breath, I grabbed the axe. The edge was still as sharp as the day I gifted it. Well maintained without a dent of misuse on it.

She spent a lot of time cursing me out for such a ridiculous gift, yet here she is, still caring for it.

“Rose… I am sorry.”