Chapter 8

  Eve left soon after lunch and so did I.

  I didn't want to talk to any homeless people, but an idiot raven came and sat by my shoulder. “Hey Royce!” he said. “How you doin’ buddy?”

  I wasn't going to answer him; I'm not that stupid. A few times I had talked to birds, people had stared at me like I was crazy, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “Hey buddy, you can talk to me in your head. You know we ravens are telepathic, right? Don't need to use your mouth.”

  “What the hell do you want boy?” I thought to myself.

  “Did ya know there's a new bunch of homeless people living in the abandoned car park? Why don't you pay them a visit? Would be a nice idea. Me thinks.”

  That's the other thing I hated about telepathic ravens - they try to act smart and talk like cool kids, but all they did was make grammatical mistakes. Only thing I hated more than telepathic ravens were telepathic ravens trying to act cool and talking like Gen Z.

  That said, the information they gave me was usually really good. I would hate to admit it on paper, but a lot of the cases I solved for the police (which meant I always had at least a few helpful police officers) was due to tips given by ravens.

  I decided to listen to this one's advice and go check out the abandoned car park. I knew which one of course; an old Tesco that was being closed down had its car park shut down because heavy rain had made big potholes in the road, and nobody wanted to pay to repair them.

  Homeless people must have moved in. I hadn't known about them until now, but maybe it was time to pay them a visit.

  The town I lived in was falling apart, but parts of it were even worse. The small shopping centre had once been one of the most popular areas in town, but over time the paint had faded, the huge neon lights had stopped working, and half the windows had been replaced with boards. Most of the businesses had left, only a small Tesco was still remaining, but even they were planning to move.

  I knew a few hundred jobs had been lost, but there weren't enough people in the town at least people with money to support so many businesses, and so everyone had left, leaving behind dirt, grime, and potholes so large you felt you were driving on the moon. The shopping mall had two parking spaces. The one in front was still functional but barely. The one in the back had been completely closed off.

  Huge concrete pillars put there to block the road. Nature was taking over the parking lot.

  There were weeds everywhere, even growing out of the concrete. Like that movie Jurassic Park said: Nature finds a way. Over here, nature was finding ways of busting through hard road and bringing a sort of greenery to the city that the environmentalist would never have dreamed of.

  Still, it was better than the drab greenness of the city. In the corner of the parking lot, the furthest away from the building, were a few tents set up.

  I saw a few of them huddled in the corner trying to hide from the public and the police. They were a bit tense when they saw me coming, but I raised my arms. “Relax guys, I'm a friend. How are you guys?”

  A distinguished old black gentleman came up to me and said, “We are good sir, any change would be appreciated.”

  From the way he spoke, I realised he must have been very well educated and must have had a good job. I don't know why he had become homeless, and it wasn't my business to ask. I had bought some hot food from the local takeaway and handed out packages to all of them, which they took gratefully.

  “I had some questions,” I asked the old, distinguished gentleman.

  “I will try to help, sir. Although I doubt how I could do anything. We are barely surviving here.”

  “That's okay, tell me, I haven't seen you here before. Are you new here?”

  “Yes sir, we are. We were living in the other town over but they threatened to jail us, so we came here. We'll stay here a few days until the local police kick us out as well.”

  He said so with a sigh. But not with anger. Like a soft disappointment. Like that's what he expected life to be like.

  “I am sorry to hear that. I was homeless like you once. I wish I could help you but I am in a precarious situation myself.”

  “The thought counts sir. Thank you for your kindness.”

  I nodded. “Anyway I wanted to know about a homeless woman age around 40s or 50s wearing a dull brown jacket with baggy trousers. Have you seen anyone like her?”

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  “Yes, we do know of her. That's old Debby. She used to hang out with her until she vanished a few days ago. We haven't seen her since.”

  “Do you have any idea where she could have gone, or if somebody gave her a lift or something?”

  The man shrugged as if to say he had no idea.

  “It's okay,” I said, “Don't worry about it.”

  I gave them all ￡50 each, which would be enough to last them a week if they were careful with rationing how much food they ate. I also knew that most of them would just go and buy alcohol and blow the whole money in two hours. But fixing others wasn't my job. I thanked them and moved away.

  As I was leaving, a thin man came running up to me. I thought he wanted more money, but he surprised me by saying, “Royce? Is that you, Royce?”

  “Macintyre? Hey bud, long time no see.”

  I gave him a hug. Mack, as he was often called, had been homeless with me. Last I heard he'd got on a job and had moved into a flat. I was surprised to see him back on the street.

  “What happened man? I thought you were off the streets.”

  He looked like somebody had slapped him. “Drugs man. That's what happened. I thought I was off them. Had been clean for six months, but then went to a party and somebody asked me to try a new hit. I knew I shouldn't but I did it anyway. Six months of hard work, down in the drain in six days.”

  “Shit I’m sorry, man.”

  “Not as sorry as me. Don't worry about me, it's my fault. I made my bed and I'm gonna sleep in it. I heard you're looking for Debby. Is that correct? Are you a proper detective now?”

  Mack knew me from the old days when I did unofficial investigations. “Yes, I'm a proper detective now though money is still a bit tight. What do you know of Debby?”

  “She fell in with the wrong crowd. I warned her to stay away. These crazy men came by and said they could pay her a lot if she did something for them.”

  “Like gangsters? Pimps?”

  “Nah man, she was too old for them. Too old for that sort of stuff, and these guys didn't look like gangsters. In fact they looked like the religious type - all were wearing tie suits, clean-cut hair, and carrying some sort of religious book. Something felt off about them, even though they looked respectable. They were dressed respectfully and were extremely polite. Something about them sent my spine tingling. You know what I did right?”

  I did. Mack had been in the army intelligence and had a good nose for troublemakers. If he hadn't gotten addicted to drugs, he could have had a great career as a police detective. He was one of those people who had given me tips on how practical policing worked, which I had used to build up my own detective practice. If he had been sober, I would have asked him to come work for me. Unfortunately, spending years with homeless people, I learned the lesson the hard way. Unless people want to change, and I mean really, really, change, they don’t change. And they drag you down with them.

  And so while it broke my heart, until Mack made the decision to remain sober for at least a whole year, I couldn't help him. It might seem cruel to those on the outside, but every homeless person knew this rule. Like Mack himself had said, he had made his bed, and he needed to sleep in it.

  “Anyway,” Mack continued, “These people gave me the heebie-jeebies. I don't know how to explain them. Well-dressed like businessmen, but their personalities were like psychopaths, like hungry sharks circling prey. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I do. Cultists is the word you are looking for.”

  Cultists. People who worship strange alien gods and who were more than happy to carry out a few human sacrifices here and there. The modern educated liberal elite refused to believe in them and so many of these cultists hid in open sight. Most cultists were just rich spoilt kids who liked to do drugs and have sex and pretend they were calling the devil. And that’s the impression most people had.

  It didn't help that the really dangerous ones, the ones who knew how to do the dangerous shit, were quite rare. You only saw them once every few years, and unless you had spent time in the gutters like me and had knowledge of the supernatural world, there was an almost zero chance you would run into them.

  Unless of course you're unlucky like Debby had been.

  “I am taking she didn't listen to your warning?” I asked.

  “No, she didn't. She said that they were well-dressed and such respectable men. Clearly they couldn't be criminals. From the outside, she was right. These were the most polite people you could meet. They weren't trying to force her. They said they just wanted her to visit their church that they had this programme for helping homeless people. And so she went with them. I knew then she would never be coming back. Don't lie to me, Royce! Don't lie to me. You know I can detect lies. Is she dead?”

  He could detect lies, so it was no sense lying to him. “Yes, she's dead, ritually murdered by this crazy cult. I don't know who they are. Your instincts were right, Mack.”

  He shook his head sadly. “Shit man. Get her justice, bro.”

  “I will, and Mack. Let me just say this: If you can remain clean for a year (and I do mean a whole year, not a few months), I could take you on. I'm barely making enough to survive myself, but business is getting better, and I could use an experienced detective like you. But you need to prove to me that you have been sober for a year.”

  “I understand man, I totally get you, and I agree with you. I wouldn't hire some junkie who cannot remain clean for more than a few months either. Just to let you know, I do understand what's happening with me. I'm going through therapy and counselling, and also attending Addicts Anonymous meetings. I really appreciate you showing the confidence in me. I won't let you down. I will stay sober this year, and I'm not gonna give up.”

  Giving me a thumbs up, he walked away.

  So it looks like the raven had been right. I did find an interesting clue here. While I already suspected that it was some cult that would've killed her, somebody who had knowledge of how the hidden world worked, I still got some new information.

  Many cultists, like I said, were the crazy hippie types who would go into the forest and just dance naked and pretend they were calling the devil or they were dangerous criminals who thought they were talking to the devil but in reality were just psychotic or on drugs.

  The fact that these were well-dressed and well-spoken men meant that these were different. These weren't the hippies or the mentally disturbed. They looked like people who knew what they were doing, and the fact that they had targeted this woman specifically means they also had some criteria for choosing their victims.

  Although I didn't understand why. Like I said before, no demonic god from another dimension wanted the sacrifice of a useless 50-year-old homeless woman. So why choose her? Clearly this group had taken a lot of effort and planning.

  It was time to pay the Nice Witch from the East a visit. Yes, that was her name. She had a sense of humour.