Brockmann was awake when Simon came back. He made Fornby leave him as he felt being alone was much better than having the presence of the smug Brit. Fornby had complied happily.

Simon smiled at him and sat on a chair next to his bed. He was alone in his room, a luxury Fornby had obviously paid for.

“The police came and asked me about all kinds of things.” Brockmann knew Simon wanted to talk about something else entirely.

“Yeah, I spent some time at the station. That Alex bitch blew up my apartment.” He sighed. Brockmann nodded. Too many traces, better to get rid of them any other way, he assumed.

“What did you tell them?” Simon asked. Brockmann realized he meant the police.

“A lie.” He sighed and sat up in the bed, feeling pain at his side despite the painkillers. He sighed. “You saved my life two or three times. Three if I can believe the doctors.” Brockmann sighed.

“I know. Partner,” Simon answered with an exhausted smile.

“You might regret it,” Brockmann said.

“Oh c’mon, you’re not that bad. I’m actually starting to get used to you, old man.” Simon smirked, but his smile vanished when Brockmann didn’t react with his trademark grunt at being called an old man.

“When I was visiting Sandra, she knew a lot about me. She had manipulated me. I was about to leave when she drew a gun on me and opened fire.” Brockmann felt Simon pushing his chair away a bit.

“Why would she do . . .”

Brockmann raised his hand. It took him all his courage to tell the story anyway.

“I returned fire and hit her in the chest,” Brockmann said. Simon stared at him and shook his head.

“Bullshit, why would she do something like that?” Simon asked. He felt his anger rise.

“I suspect she didn’t want to be killed by the monster. It appeared a minute later and threw me out of the window,” Brockmann said.

Simon stared at him, with tears in his eyes. “When did you plan to tell me?” Simon asked.

“Never. Changed my mind this morning.” Brockmann said truthfully.

Simon stared at him. He couldn’t believe he had not suspected anything like this.

“If you want to set things straight, I suggest a syringe with air. You can make it look like a suicide,” Brockmann said with a calm voice.

Simon cleared his throat and then shook his head. “It’s alright. I guess that’s what she wanted. You were her hand grenade.” Simon got up. “I’m gonna go take a walk.”

Brockmann nodded. “Sure.”

Simon walked to the door, his legs now visibly weak, weaker than any monster had ever made them.

At the door, Simon stopped and sighed. “See you tomorrow,” he said.

Brockmann smiled at him.

“Sure,” he replied.

****

Simon didn’t get far. Outside the hospital, Fornby was sitting on a bench, smoking a thin and long cigar.

“Guess you did a man’s job out there. Brockmann told me all about it,” he said. Simon looked at him, wiping his tears from his eyes.

“Oh, he told you.” Fornby stood up.

“Yes, he did,” Simon said. He wanted to be alone but he also wanted to talk to someone. To whom could he talk about this in the whole wide world?

“She left him no choice, I'm sure of it. Suicide-by-Brockmann.” Fornby said and gestured. “Let's take a walk through the park.”

Simon nodded. “There is someone out there who did this to her. Someone created this monster, someone she knew,” Simon said. Fornby nodded.

“You want to find out who that was?” Fornby asked. “So do I.”

“What are you suggesting?” Simon asked. Fornby smiled.

“You know what I’m suggesting. He told me what you are capable of, and he needs a partner. If that thing with Sandra does not stand between you, of course,” Fornby said. Simon didn’t answer this last implied question.

“You mean a partner who can read emails?” He smirked.

“One who can even write one. We take reports very seriously and I consider shifting this to digital,” Fornby said with a smile that should probably indicate self-irony.

“How modern of you,” Simon replied.

“The Nocturne Society has to go with the times.”

“Whatever is left of it, you mean,” he replied and stopped, turning to Fornby, staring at him.

Fornby took a breath of his cigar and nodded. “We are in a sorry state, but that makes what we do even more important. Clearly, there is something out there. Maybe it was all along, and we just forgot to look.” Fornby sighed. “Maybe we have not learned how to look in the right places.”

Simon sighed. “Sounds like you need me.”

Fornby scratched his neck a little, took another breath and shoved the cigar aside. Finally, he nodded.

Simon stared at him and nodded. “Okay. I mean I can hardly go back to my life as if nothing had happened anyway.” He nodded. “I’m in.”

Fornby offered him his hand. Simon looked at it and then took it.

“Welcome to the Nocturne Society, Simon Bleicher,” he said. Then he turned around and walked away. Simon stayed in the park for another minute, watching him vanish.

The End