That night, for the first time, the novelty of riding in an automobile didn't distract me. Maybe I was starting to get used to how common they were in London. More likely I was distracted by my thoughts.

The drive seemed to take days.

It was with intense relief that I saw Aramina Muldrew and her husband Jameson standing by one of the police cars as my cab finally pulled up in front of their home. Aramina was a reserved-looking woman in her early fifties, her hair already iron-gray and currently tied in a loose braid. She was wearing a light coat over her robe, which was a departure from the dressy casual clothes I was used to seeing her in. Her husband was cut from much the same mold and was a brain surgeon; he must have only recently arrived home, because he was still dressed for work in hospital scrubs under his jacket.

They both looked over as I climbed out of the cab, their expressions changing to a strained sort of relief at seeing a familiar and friendly face. Aramina hurried over as Athena and Artemis climbed out behind me. "Detective Inspector Donovan arrived fifteen minutes ago and told us he'd called you in. I was so glad to hear it, after what you did to help us last October."

I clasped her extended hand in mine and squeezed it reassuringly. "I'm sure we'll get this sorted out," I replied, glancing over my shoulder to see Athena paying the cabby, who nodded to her and drove off. My attention returned to Aramina as I asked, "Where did the detective go?"

She pointed down the street about a half a block. "The third townhouse," she said. "That's where…"

I heard running feet and half turned to see Ben approaching at a quick jog. "Alys!" He stopped beside me. "I'm glad you're her. Mrs. Muldrew, I'm sorry to pull her away…"

"Don't be silly," Aramina replied. "It's your job."

Ben nodded and touched my arm. "Miss Kinnear, if you'll…"

"Of course," I replied, turning and following him, Athena and Artemis close behind.

The four of us made our way down the sidewalk. "What's happened?" I asked softly as soon as we were out of earshot.

"You'll see in a minute," Ben said grimly. "I hope you've been working on your strong stomach."

"I'm training to be a Wizard," I said, trying for a little humor. "It sort of goes with the territory."

His answering smile was strained and half-hearted.

It took more than a minute to get me into the crime scene. First we had to stop and register my identity - name, place of employment and residence, qualifications, etc. - and have a temporary consultant's badge issued to me. Then it took a few more minutes to have the appropriate badges issued to mark Athena and Artemis as my familiars and cleared for the crime scene. So it was almost fifteen minutes before we finally entered the townhouse.

"I swear, tomorrow we're going to the Yard to get permanent badges for the three of you," Ben was muttering as we climbed the steps to a front door that had been shattered outwards, its splinters still lying on the stairs and sidewalk. "We can't do this every time we visit a crime scene. Should've done it today, but I didn't think it was urgent…"

He trailed off into silence as we went through the front door into a nightmare. The front hallway was liberally sprayed with blood, what looked like more than could possibly have come from a single body. I looked down and saw two right hands - one a larger man's hand, the other a smaller woman's hand - lying on the floor a few feet away, confirming my initial impression; too much for one body.

When I raised my eyes again, I saw the rest of the body parts. Legs, torsos, and arms were strewn about the hall at random, and two heads were impaled like grisly trophies on a hat tree by the front door. The word "FREE" had been scrawled in blood in rough capital letters on a floor-length mirror across from the heads.

The smell...the smell was incredible. I had to swallow twice to keep the bile from rising in my throat as my stomach roiled.

Behind me, Athena made a little gagging noise as the smell reached her.

Her momentary feeling of nausea on top of mine was all it took. I pushed past her out the door, leaned over the little porch railing, and emptied my stomach into the small flower bed there. I felt Athena's hand on my back a moment later, her presence and Artemis's comforting in the back of my mind. Athena had adjusted quickly, and Artemis wasn't the least bit bothered by it. Why would they have any trouble with it? They were predators, after all. But I was able to draw on their rock-solid acceptance of what we'd seen to steady myself.

"First actual murder scene?" Ben's voice asked gently from behind me. His hand touched my shoulder, then came into view offering a handkerchief.

I took it gratefully and wiped my mouth. One of the policemen came over and offered me both a bottle of water and a sympathetic smile. I took both in the spirit they were given, nodding to him as he went back to the barricade they'd set up on the sidewalk. A couple of sips of water - I confess to spitting out the first one in a very unladylike fashion to try and get the taste out of my mouth - and I stood up straight again. "First one this violent," I answered Ben finally, hearing the embarrassment in my own voice. "Sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I did the same thing the first time I saw something like this, and you aren't the first person to do it here tonight." He squeezed my shoulder gently. "Don't worry about the hanky either. I've got plenty."

I laughed weakly. "Thanks." I created a small ball of fire above my hand, destroying the soiled handkerchief, then met Athena's concerned eyes and smiled a little. "I'm fine, really."

She nodded. "Of course, Mistress."

Artemis had already slipped back inside and was sniffing cautiously at the hands I'd seen a few moments earlier. > she reported. >

"What's she smell?" Ben asked at the same time.

"Two scents, probably theirs," I gestured towards the heads. "You said you've seen things like this before?" I asked incredulously. "Please, tell me this is worse than the others."

He shook his head sadly. "Pretty much the same as the other two, actually, if a bit more contained. And...I've seen things like this three or four other times in the past seven years." He sighed. "There's things out there that will do this for sport if the opportunity presents itself."

I winced, covering my mouth and nose with my hand for a moment and swallowing. Then I took a couple of quick sips from the water bottle and cleared my throat, making a mental note to find that policeman and thank him when I got out of here. "The writing on the mirror is a new twist."

Ben nodded. "It set me back on my heels when I saw it. Any idea what it means?"

With a grimace, I nodded. "I think I do, actually." I briefly explained about the article from the Daily Mirror and the body with the matching scar there. "You'll get a Sending from me about it in…" I checked my watch, "About five hours."

He chuckled. "Okay. Something to look forward to, then. You're right though, it's a starting point finally." He looked around. "I'm not sure what else we can learn from this right now. The boys from forensics should be arriving in a few minutes. They'll photograph it from every available angle, run spells, you name it. We should get out of their way, but I thought you'd want a look at it first."

I nodded, looking around. "There's no way to set up a circle here...to try for another energy-image of what did it."

"Not without disturbing the crime scene," he agreed. "Do you have any doubts about what we'd find if we did?"

I shook my head. "No." Then I turned to look at the mirror again. "'Free.' Do you think someone was controlling it?"

Ben shook his head. "I don't know. I've heard of that sort of thing being done, but..." We heard a police wagon pull up outside. "Come on, that'll be the forensics people. Let's clear out and let them work."

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I broke away and went to quietly thank the policeman who'd brought me the bottle of water. When I returned to Ben, he was already receiving a report from another officer.

"...taken an initial statement from the Muldrews," the man was saying, handing Ben a folder. "Here's a copy of the transcript. We'll bring the forensic team's report to you as soon as they finish it."

Ben nodded. "Thanks, George. I'll be back at the Yard."

The other man - George - nodded and hurried in the direction we'd come from. Ben turned to me. "I'm not going to get any sleep tonight. You?"

I shook my head. "After that? Not likely."

"Why don't you come back to the office with me," he said gently. "We can take a look at this transcript, then grind through the paperwork for your consultant's badges. By the time we finish all of that, we might have the forensics report."

I was wearing fresh clothes and had my most important gear with me. So I shrugged. "Athena? Artemis?"

"I'm okay with it," Athena said quietly.

> Artemis's response was half-amused, half feline smugness.

"Let's go," I said to Ben.

It was a quick trip back to New Scotland Yard, as there wasn't much traffic in the middle of the night. It wasn't long before we were comfortably ensconced in Ben's office. He left me reading the statement given by Aramina and Jameson Muldrew while he and Athena went to scrounge a late night snack for us.

Not that my stomach wanted me to put anything in it, but he seemed to think it was a good idea.

By the time they returned with a pot of coffee - a drink I'm not in love with, but which I confess is useful for the caffeine - and a plate of sandwiches, I had been through the statement twice. He pressed a steaming mug into my hands and quietly insisted that I drink at least some of it. Honestly, I hadn't realized that I was shivering until the warmth of the mug began to sink into my hands. I guess silk under a leather coat wasn't the best way to stay warm on a cool spring night in London.

To my surprise, the heat of the drink also dispelled some of my queasiness. Perhaps I'd been chilled in a way other than physically.

As I sipped the coffee, Ben took a minute to skim through the Muldrews' statement, then offered the file to Athena. As she leaned forward and took it to read through it, I thought I saw her squint a little at the pages. Before I could ask her about it, I was diverted by Ben's question, "So, how could they have not heard anything until the crash of the door exploding outwards? Nobody even reported hearing any screaming. Nothing at all until the door went."

I set my mug down and raked my fingers through my hair. "If magic had been actively used there within the last hour or two, you and I would've immediately felt the residue of it." Sure, there was a general haze of magical energy all over London - it was in common use for all sorts of mundane utilitarian tasks. But active spellcasting left behind a very different aura than the embedded patterns of energy formed by magically powered lights, appliances, and so on. "So they probably weren't silenced by magic."

"If they were, the forensics team will find it," Ben replied thoughtfully. "But I'm inclined to agree. Something the ghost did? I confess, I don't know a lot about ghosts."

I leaned back in my chair and frowned. "It would take a ghost of tremendous power and focus to silence an area like that. Of course, this is a ghost that's capable of ripping people limb from limb, which is incredibly rare to begin with."

"Could it silence the individual people?" Ben asked.

I shook my head. "Believe it or not, that would actually be more difficult than silencing the environment for a ghost. It's a matter of affecting the environment, which is difficult but not impossible, as opposed to silencing a living being that can actively resist whatever is done to it."

"Could the ghost have slit their throats first?" Ben wondered aloud.

"Probably," I replied thoughtfully. "Considering what else it's done, I'd say it's well within the scope of this entity. Just one problem...it would have had to do both at once or risk the other screaming. It seems unlikely, but I suppose it's possible."

Ben nodded.

Athena set down the folder and rubbed her eyes for a moment. We'd both been up for almost twenty hours by then, and she was probably as tired as I was. "Here's a better question," she said. "Why ruin the subtlety of what it had done by blasting the door to bits on its way out? It probably would have been a couple of days before the murder was discovered otherwise."

"That's an excellent question," I agreed. "But I think the answer is a simple one. The only reason it was subtle is because the killer wanted to kill without being interrupted. But it wanted its victims to be found."

Ben nodded. "That would make sense." He tipped his head a little and gave me a long look before continuing. "You have some idea about who our mystery ghost might have been in life. You mentioned it back at the crime scene and said something about a time-delayed Sending to me."

I grimaced. "I have a suspicion. But it's really a wild, out-there theory, and it doesn't make a whole lot of sense."

He smiled. "Tell me anyway."

"Well...there was that newspaper article last year, after I finished the investigation at the Muldrews' residence," I began, then trailed off as Ben dug through the piles of paper on his desk before coming up with it. "Yes, that one. I'm a bit disturbed to see that you have a copy."

His smile turned sheepish. "After I met you, I wanted to learn everything I could about you."

I shook my head, but couldn't help smiling. "Anyway, the article suggested that one of the bodies belonged to the man who was known as the Thames Slasher back in the 1950’s."

Ben began rummaging through the piles on his desk again. "I was born around the time it started," he said. "Yeah, here it is…" He pulled out a large book with a number of pieces of paper stuck in it. He opened it to one of the marked spots and made a quiet, thoughtful sound before speaking. "June of '55 through March of '56. He killed thirty red-haired women in London and was suspected of another ten murders in the surrounding area. There's no indication in the Yard records of an arrest, but they did have a positive ID on a suspect right before the murders stopped. A man named Thomas Kingson was their number one suspect. He was a cousin of the royal family though, so they had to speak to the High King about questioning him. The detectives investigating were denied authority to, but Kingson disappeared from under the noses of their surveillance people immediately thereafter, and there were no further murders. They never found out what happened to him."

He put the book down and looked thoughtful. "I suppose he could have ended up as one of the bodies in the asylum morgue…"

"There's just one little problem with that theory," I said.

"What's that?" Ben asked, his eyes focusing on me again.

"The asylum closed in the 1930’s."

"Ah," he said, and frowned. "Yes, that would put a crimp in the theory."

"Why?" Athena asked.

We both looked at her. "Why what, pet?" I asked.

"Why does it put a crimp in the theory?" She asked. "If I remember correctly…” she frowned a little, “if I remember correctly, the asylum closed in the 1930’s but was purchased by a private citizen. I don't believe the Muldrews were able to find out who, were they?"

I thought back. "If they did, they never mentioned it and I didn't see it in Jameson's notes."

She nodded. "It just said that the purchaser split it up into several residential and commercial properties, which went up for lease some years later. They didn't have specifics. And then the next owner purchased the buildings for renovation into a mansion and townhouses in the 1960’s."

"So it could have been...what, a research facility?" Ben asked. "A holding area for state criminals?"

"Or just an asylum that went underground for some reason, no pun intended," Athena replied. "Whatever it was, there were no records of its operation, and not something we’re likely to ever find evidence of."

"Which would have been a perfect place for the High King to dump an embarrassing relative," I finished for her. "That's solid thinking, Athena."

She beamed. "Thank you, Mistress."

After a moment, Ben said, "I'm going to call the Metropolitan Police headquarters and see if they can get us the autopsy reports for the bodies that were brought up out of that asylum morgue last October. If we can identify that body, it might give us a clue." With that, he lifted the handset of the phone on his desk and began dialing.

Telephones are an interesting piece of technology with potentially limitless applications...too bad the Merfolk don't see it that way. With the Sunken Kingdoms unwilling to allow the laying of transoceanic cables under their seas - and who can blame them, really - instantaneous non-magical communication is unfortunately limited to within the boundaries of the continents. Albion doesn't even have connections with Eiré and Avalon, let alone across the Channel to Gaul. There'd been talk of stretching cables from Dover to Calais, but without the ability to lay down stanchions in Merfolk-protected waters it didn't seem likely to happen.

Maybe if they applied a variation on the magic that keeps airships afloat…floating supports to keep the wires in the air…

Anyway, there have also been rumors that the world-famous Vinland scientist Nikola Tesla - one of the preeminent Hermetic wizards and inventors of the our time, who was still going strong at 130 years old - was working on some sort of telephone system that didn't require wires. But his pronouncements had been getting wilder and wilder since the 1930’s, and it had been quite a few years since he'd demonstrated one of his inventions to the public. Time would tell.

Ben hung up the phone. "They'll have the reports here by nine this morning," he said. "It's going to take them a bit of time to make copies of everything for us."

"There were almost a hundred of them," I replied. "And they identified almost all of them. That's a lot of paperwork."

"True." He rubbed his face, then drank more of his coffee. "In the meantime, let me go get the ream of paperwork you'll need to fill out as a consultant." He rose and left.

I half-turned in my chair to face Athena. "Are you all right, Athena? I saw you squinting at the paper before and rubbing your eyes afterwards."

Athena smiled sheepishly. "I'm fine, Mistress. I must just be tired...I was having a hard time focusing on the page."

"Hmm," I thought about it. "I think maybe we should get your eyes checked," I said thoughtfully. "I know your distance vision is superb, but that wasn't the first time I've caught you squinting at something close up."

She looked amused. "Then perhaps we should get yours checked too, Mistress, since I catch you doing the same thing all the time."

I blinked, then laughed a little. "I think you're right. I'll make appointments for us both."

It wasn't long before Ben returned with a stack of paperwork as thick as an Oxford English Dictionary and put it on the desk in front of me with a grunt. "Be glad you only have to do this once."

I nodded weakly, stunned by the size of it. "Wow. Where do I start?"

"Page one," he said wryly, sitting back down behind his desk and handing me a pen. "Every page needs to be initialed and dated, every second or third page needs to have your signature and printed name on it. There's at least four pages that require the imprint of your sigil."

I sighed and got to it, silently thanking whoever had figured out how to duplicate these things so that it didn't need to be filled out in triplicate.

It is extremely important to read a contract in its entirety when entering into any kind of legally binding agreement. There were, after all, magical ways of enforcing certain less than desirable outcomes for the person doing the signing, running the gamut of end results from simple financial debts and the owing of favors all the way to legally owning the signer's firstborn child. Though the selling of children was frowned on today and could be nearly impossible to enforce in a court of law, as long as the defendant had a halfway decent and magically savvy lawyer. Even more extreme, and as absurd as it might sound, it wasn't unheard of for a clever contract writer to end up in possession of someone's soul because of it.

To be sure, there was some debate about what that meant precisely. But in purely practical terms, it granted the holder of the contract tremendous physical and mental control over the person who signed it.

I initialed and dated, signed my name, used a bit of magic to imprint my sigil, filled out information about my education and employment, and so on. Athena had to sign several of the pages, and one of them even required a paw print from Artemis.

It took so long to get through the paperwork that I was just signing the last page when I was startled by the arrival of my time-delayed sending. I felt my cheeks heat up and was certain that I was blushing right down to my toes by the time the half-dressed image of me finished speaking. I was mostly amused (and only mildly horrified by my social faux pas) to note that I'd been so enthused about the idea that during some of my wilder gesticulations (I talk with my hands a lot...most spellcasters do) I had unintentionally given him brief glimpses of the matching panties that went with the sleeveless green silk tunic I was now wearing tucked into my jeans.

Whoops. Well, I’d gotten to see him in his boxers courtesy of his Sending. Fair’s fair.

Fortunately, Ben showed once again that he was a true gentleman. While he did give me a couple of appraising and obviously interested looks while my Sending was speaking, he didn't say a word about my unintentional immodesty. Instead, he rose and stretched. "Well, the autopsy reports will be here in a couple more hours. Feel up to a spot of breakfast and a walk around the block?"

I nodded and rose, Athena immediately on her feet beside me. "Sounds like a great idea," I said, stretching.

Behind us, I heard Artemis yawn enormously and rise. >

Ben smiled and grabbed his jacket, tossing mine to me. "Looks like it's unanimous. There's a little place down the street that does amazing breakfast sandwiches. Come on."