Jeffrey Dean
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'Qui: The Fall of Ottawa' Part 2, Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2025-01-20 23:00:02 +0000 UTC[Please note this is not an official World of Darkness licensed product. All chapters within this setting will be available free of charge and will never be behind a paywall.]
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Don't open up to her, Qui thought to himself. That never leads to anything but pain and death. He wasn't sure why he was letting down his guard with Sam; he needed to be more careful or he'd risk blowing his cover. He didn't want to hurt her, but if he had to in order to complete the assassination, he would. Maybe that's why her praise rang so hollow–he wasn't some kind of hero cop to be worshipped, he was only here to do mercenary wetwork before disappearing as quickly as he arrived. He tried not to let any emotion show on his face as he pulled onto the cracked pavement of the parking lot and stopped the car.
"Remember," Qui said as he leaned down, practically folding himself in half to get out of the car. As useful as his height often was, it still had its disadvantages. "You're in charge of the scene and I'm here to observe." He looked around the abandoned lot and the dilapidated shop beside it. "This is the right address?"
Sam got out and stretched her legs. "Yup," she said. "No mistaking this place as anything other than Bob's Auto." She gestured at a neon sign hanging sideways on a chain, swinging lightly in the breeze half-severed from its moorings. It was flickering red and yellow at irregular intervals lighting the dark parking lot with sharp slashes of color that flickered like a fire. "Points for originality." She sniffed with irritation. "Why the hell hasn't anyone put up a flood light or two out here? It's a murder scene for god's sake."
"They probably didn't expect anyone to come out and investigate at night," Qui replied idly as he walked toward the shop, hands in the pockets of his overcoat. He wasn't going to say anything to Sam, but something about this entire situation felt off to him. Within a half a minute of getting out of the car he knew that his instinct to check out the site in person had been right on the money.
Sam came up beside him and approached the shop's door. "To be fair, we probably should have waited until tomorrow morning to do this. I know we're both on night shift, but a little overtime never hurts."
Qui grunted. Morning shift wasn't exactly in the cards for him. "Well, we're here now," he said. "Might as well have a look." He grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, gesturing her inside. "After you, Mrs. Lyle."
The first light switch was dead. The next closest one was too. For those first few moments they were inside the foul-smelling mechanic shop the only illumination in the customer waiting area was the flickering neon reds and yellows of the sign outside shining in through the plate glass window. The smell of blood stimulated Qui's Hunger and he tried with some success to push the temptation aside. This wasn't the time to be distracted–every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to leave this place as quickly as possible. He gritted his teeth. He was tougher than that, and he certainly wasn't going to show such weakness in front of the mortal he'd been working with. Besides, if he left now then he'd never be able to confirm his suspicions.
"This is ridiculous," Sam muttered as she pulled a heavy-looking mag-lite from her belt and flicked it on, sweeping a cold beam of light through the shop. She used it to indicate a small gap leading behind the front desk. "The report said that the victim was pulled into the back room. They didn't want to kill him where anyone on the street could have looked in an gotten a peep show."
"Makes sense," Qui said as he got his own light out and began to search. He scanned the desk and walls for signs of a struggle. There was a crust of dried blood along the edge of the door frame. He pointed it out to her. "The vic must have hit his head when they pulled him back here."
Sam looked at him and arched an eyebrow. "How'd you even see that?"
"Guy was struggling. You see a bunch of thugs with knives, the last thing you want is to be pulled into a back room. Thrash around enough and you're bound to leave evidence of it–gouges on a surface from fingernails, trace blood spatter, all kinds of things if you know where to look."
Her expression quirked up in a thin-lipped smile before she turned back to the door frame. "Guess you're not just some overstuffed desk-jockey after all."
"You thought that?"
"No," she replied. "But there was a betting pool back in the station. Don't worry; most of the guys who were saying that were the first on the chopping block. Good riddance."
"Focus, Sam," Qui said, lowering his voice. He'd sensed something further back in the building and he had to fight against the instinctive desire to tap into his shadowy abilities and fade from sight. That would be too difficult to explain, and he'd hate to have to deal with his mortal partner after making such a stupid mistake. Violating the city's Masquerade policy wasn't an option–but he couldn't deny that he was on edge. "Where did they find the body?"
Sam shot him a quizzical look and lowered her voice to match his. "Stuffed in the storage room back here." She paused almost to the door, hand outstretched for the knob. "What's up? Do you hear something?"
"Yes." Qui reached beneath his overcoat and gripped his gun, ready to draw without a moment's hesitation. "Might just be a vagrant hoping to rob the place now that it's abandoned. Might be something else. Don't forget you're armed."
"Damn it, James," she hissed. "Let's not get carried away. I'm not shooting a homeless person."
Qui stepped up to the door and put his ear to it. He reached out with his mind and nearly recoiled when he sensed another supernatural creature's inner Beast not far beyond. It was focused on something else on the other side of the warehouse tacked onto the back of the shop. If they were to draw its attention, though... He had to think quickly or his partner's life would be forfeit. "You're right, Sam," he whispered. "I hear some pretty ragged breathing in there. Whoever it is doesn't sound healthy." There was no breathing, of course. Vampires were already dead. "We don't want to startle this guy and hurt anyone unnecessarily."
"Can't just let him stay here, either," Sam said. She was stubborn; usually Qui admired that trait in a person, but it also had a tendency to get mortals killed. "This is a crime scene; it's not the place for a vagrant. You wanted to come here and see what the squad might have missed, right? We're not going to get the chance if the place is contaminated or torn apart. Besides, you said I had point on this one."
She pushed up beside him and grabbed the handle.
The presence Qui had felt on the other side grew closer. He tensed up. He had to act now or all of this would have been for nothing.
