Chapter 0.6

“Well done,” Reiko clapped. “You three have gleaned what the mages at the Criminal Affairs Bureau all missed ten years ago.”

“Wait.”

Mamoru crossed his arms.

“If what we’re saying is true,” he said. “Kobayashi, you know what you’re implying right? Taboo? Someone’s violated a Tenet and nobody noticed for ten years? And it’s never affected The Now?”

“That is strange,” Miyuki agreed. “I don’t have an explanation.”

“There’s no need to wrack your brains further over this,” Reiko replied. “Kazuo and I will take over from here. Kobayashi and Fujimoto are half right. No one has committed Taboo. Rather, we believe someone is in the process of committing one.”

“For whatever reason,” Section Chief Shinomiya jumped in. “The killer stopped killing ten years ago, leaving the victims at eleven women over twelve months. Almost one every month, each carved with a sigil that looks like infinity.”

“Predictly,” Reiko waved her hand, “if you pinpoint the location where we found a victim to a point on a map, this is what you get.”

A map of Sapporo emerged within Elio. Each of the photographs collapsed into miniature stars and attached themselves to the map, dotting points from east to west. Then a line swerved through each of them, forming an infinity that was only missing a star at its center.

“Like most serial killers,” Reiko muttered. “This one fancies themselves an artist. Or maybe a mathematician?”

“Are you sure there wasn’t a twelfth victim that, you know,” Mamoru said, “maybe he just hid the body really well?”

“Their,” Reiko corrected, “profile suggests otherwise. They like putting bodies on display. They wouldn’t just hide one.”

“And why haven’t they finished the ritual?”

“The only person who knows that is the culprit,” Reiko shrugged. “The official story is this: the Brideskiller’s dead, likely from old age. The case has been on the shelves for years, waiting to be stored in a basement for the rest of its days.”

“Then what makes you think they’ll complete the ritual after all this time?” Mamoru asked.

“Because committing Taboo is an irresistible call for mages like this,” Reiko gave Mamoru a dark grin. “You don’t just sacrifice eleven lives to never see the fruits of your labor. And why complete the ritual now, you might be wondering? Well, haven’t you heard the news? The Egregore are coming.”

“But we just found out about their arrival today,” Miyuki argued. "The culprit waited ten years for a tea party?”

“Captain Nakamura’s assessment is more than just guesswork, I’m afraid,” Kazuo replied. “The Egregore were meant to hold a tea party here ten years ago. The plans were scrubbed, but given the timings, the twelfth victim would have been found mere days before their supposed arrival.”

Reiko and Kazuo snuck a sideways glance at each other.

“As you all know,” Reiko explained, “Taboos are discovered retroactively, when imaginarium responds violently to an incantation that magic has deemed Forbidden. But both the sigils and victims here point to magic relying on ritual sacrifice, which we know violates one of the few known Tenets, the Tenet of Blood.”

“No Mage Shall Use Blood For Feasts or Feats,” Miyuki recited.

“Fine,” Mamoru sighed. “But it sounds like you’ve got everything sorted out, already. What do you need us for?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Reiko smiled. She snapped her fingers, and the center of the map of Sapporo magnified. “Given that the culprit needs to complete the larger sigil, there are several likely spots for the final act. You three will take position around the botanical garden to the west of here, starting today.”

“Who are we even looking for?” Mamoru raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t even have a suspect list.”

“A mage capable of inscribing imaginarium like this could take on many forms,” Reiko shrugged. “Besides, if we look too much like we’re searching for someone, we’ll scare away the culprit. We’re just surveying the area.”

“How do we get into contact if we see something strange?” Miyuki asked.

“Nothing fancy, for now,” Kazuo answered. “I’ll pass around standard issue radios, shortly. Section Eight has a private channel.”

“The garden’s just a few blocks that way,” Reiko pointed. “Remember to stay warm, everyone. Good luck.”

Reiko clapped her hands together and dispersed Elio from the lounge. Everyone blinked away at the return of banal, fluorescent white office lights overhead, and Reiko used the opportunity to scan the expressions of her newfound juniors.

Mamoru Fujimoto. Like he had been throughout their first meeting, the kid donned a resting, cynical scowl, as if perpetually skeptical of Reiko’s motives.

That was good. Section Eight needed someone grounded like that.

As for Miyuki Kobayashi, there was no mistaking the unbridled enthusiasm with which she bounced across the lounge to approach Kazuo with questions about the spell that he had “helped create.”

“I thought we’d be using Elio for communications,” she said. “The imaginarium density’s perfect for storing vivid messages.”

“Just take the radio,” the section chief muttered.

And then there was Fujiko Kazama. She thanked Kazuo with a nod upon receiving her equipment and wordlessly excused herself.

For one reason or another, this one was going to be a problem.

As the others left the lounge, Kazuo approached her.

“You think he’ll take the bait?” he asked.

“He better,” she shrugged. “It was Arataki’s idea, wasn’t it? All that nonsense about closing the case in a week. He must have known the Egregore were coming. What’s the old man playing at, chief?”

Kazuo laughed and offered Reiko a firm pat on the shoulder.

“Leave the bureaucrats to me,” he said. “You do what you do best. Go catch us a murderer.”

With that endorsement, Reiko followed Mamoru and the others into the elevator.

“Are you coming with us, Captain Nakamura?” Miyuki asked.

“No, and I’m Mrs. Hasegawa every time you step outside for now. You don’t know me,” Reiko replied. “Out there, I’m just the section chief’s secretary.”

“What are we, spies?” Mamoru snorted.

“Something like that.”

The elevator stopped at the ground floor, and Section Eight parted ways. Reiko walked towards the break room at the far end of the lobby, where suited bureaucrats and traffic officers often commingled together.

“Who are they?”

Reiko swiveled her head at the voice too close to her ear for comfort. She felt her index and middle fingers unsheathe from her pockets, then remembered she still had a role to play.

“You scared me, Mr. Sakurai,” she jumped.

Officer Sakurai leaned back and smiled sheepishly.

“I didn’t mean to, Mrs. Hasegawa,” he said. “I just couldn’t help but notice some faces I didn’t recognize.”

“Oh. Yes. They’re new,” Reiko replied. “Section Chief Shinomiya hired them.”

“He hired them?” Sakurai repeated. “I’ve never heard of that happening before.”

“Do you remember what you said this morning? About Chief Shinomiya possibly losing his job?”

“I remember saying something like that, yes.”

Reiko leaned back in and whispered in Sakurai’s ear.

“Chief Shinomiya cut a deal with Arataki,” she said. “In order to protect his seat, Shinomiya promised to solve this really old case.”

“An old case?”

“Have you heard of The Brideskiller?”

Twilight fell on Sakurai’s face. Though he likely did not intend it, a dim shadow swept across his already empty pupils, and the tips of his lips twitched as if jolted with a shock of delirium.

Reiko could look past these perturbing visual artifacts; in even the most guilty looking suspect, there was a universe where Sakurai was simply a Brideskiller enthusiast. After all, he had in fact been in the force ten years ago when the murders were first discovered, more than enough time for one to entertain a sick fascination with their history and method.

But what Reiko could not ignore was the unfathomable imaginarium hiding in plain sight beneath Sakurai’s polyester clothes. It leaked out of every slit and poisoned every tinge of fabric with bloodcurdling intent. Reiko held in the urge to wince; any sudden movements now would betray her motives.

“Mr. Sakurai?” Reiko smiled.

“Oh. The Brideskiller,” Sakurai hummed. “And those three were asked to investigate him?”

“I believe so,” she nodded. “I overheard their instructions.”

“Instructions?”

“They’re to investigate the botanical gardens,” Reiko said. “Do you know about the Brideskiller, Mr. Sakurai?”

“Of course. I was here when he first started killing,” Sakurai laughed. Loudly. “I know about him. That case was closed.”

“I know!” Reiko moaned. “I’m afraid Section Chief Shinomiya has lost his mind. I think you’re right, Mr. Sakurai. I really should apply to your department.”

“Yes,” Sakurai murmured. “Yes. Yes you should.”

In lieu of any farewell, Sakurai slinked away. Sakura Hasegawa, Section Chief Shinomiya’s ditsy secretary, would never have noticed the Brideskiller’s dilated gaze, their slanted gait, the trembling uncertainty in their fingers, and, of course, the crimson imaginarium that slithered behind them like a trail of blood.

But Reiko Nakamura saw, and had seen, everything.

“Good luck, you three,” she muttered. “The real test begins now.”