The fluorescent lights of the coroner's office buzzed overhead, their harsh glow dissecting the shadows into sharp angles. The constant hum burrowed into my weary mind, a monotonous drone that seemed to pulse in time with my growing headache. Every time I closed my eyes, that damned symbol flickered behind my eyelids, like a brand seared into my consciousness.
“Detective Briar?”
The receptionist’s words cut through my thoughts like a scalpel.
“Dr. Thatcher is ready to see you now. Thank you for your patience.”
I nodded, making my way to the lab. The antiseptic smell couldn’t quite cover what laid beneath-the familiar copper tang that seemed to follow me since we found our Jane Doe.
Mary Thatcher stood waiting, her usually pristine lab coat wrinkled from what must have been hours of work. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and even from where I stood, the acrid scent of chain-smoked cigarettes clung to her like a shield. In fifteen years of working together, I'd never seen her smoke. But given the circumstances, it seemed appropriate.
"Do you know how much paperwork this corpse is costing me?" Her voice wavered slightly, betraying the forced casualness of her words. "A symbol carved into her tongue. Her tongue, Matt. That's already enough forms to kill a forest."
"Sorry to interrupt your evening of light reading," I said, trying to lift the heavy atmosphere. "But we both know one murder is more interesting than another elderly heart attack."
She sighed, pulling on her gloves with practiced efficiency before gesturing for me to come closer to the operating table.
“Our subject’s name is Jessica Hunter, 23 years old. She’d been missing for three days before her discovery. She lived alone with her father, Luke.”
“Has he been notified?”
A nod. "He's taking her to the funeral home tomorrow." She paused, her hands hovering over the sheet covering Jessica's body. "I assume you saw the... decoration in her mouth?"
“Pretty hard to miss.”
"Well, it goes deeper than that. Much deeper." Mary's voice dropped, as if sharing a terrible secret. She shifted her focus to Jessica's ears, lifting the sheet with uncharacteristic hesitation.
"Look here. The ear canals are filled with blood. And further—"She tilted Jessica's head, shining a light up her nostrils. "Massive bleeding in her sinuses. But Matt... there's no source. No trauma, no rupture. Nothing that could explain this."
"Good lord," I muttered, the copper smell suddenly overwhelming. "What could do that to a person?"
"Technically, several poisons can cause internal bleeding. But this?" She shook her head. "This is different. It's like she was stabbed from the inside out."
Mary took a deep breath, steadying herself. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting strange shadows across Jessica's pale form. "But that's not what scared me. Let me show you what we found inside."
She began to peel back the corpse's skin, and the smell hit me like a physical blow. It wasn't just blood - this was something else, something that didn't belong in this world. Even Mary grimaced as I turned away, fighting the urge to gag. "The smell shouldn't be this strong," she said, her clinical tone cracking. "It's not coming from the blood. It's coming from... something else."
"The crime scene was the same way."
"This is what unnerved me," Mary said, holding back the skin of Jessica's chest. On the underside of the skin of her chest, invisible from the outside, lay another symbol. Two angular lines formed an almond shape, sharp and almost mechanical in their symmetry, enclosing a circle that seemed to ripple in the harsh light. The longer I stared, the more it appeared to move, undulating beneath my gaze until jagged pain shot through my skull.
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Images flashed unbidden through my mind - her tongue glowing, the symbol pulsing with dark energy, blood fountaining from her mouth. The circle in the middle seemed to rotate, fixing me with an impossible gaze, and—
"Mark! Mark!"
Mary's voice snapped me back. I blinked, finding her staring at me with naked concern.
"Jesus, Briar, you scared me. You just... went somewhere else for a moment."
"Sorry," I mumbled, rubbing my temples. The pain lingered, a dull throb that felt like something had uncoiled in my mind. "How does someone even create that?"
“My question exactly. This injury shouldn’t exist without external markings. But it's more than that. This is not a carving.”
I flashed her a confused look as she continued.
“The symbol–it's not carved. It’s... embedded. It is grown deep through every layer of her skin, save for the surface. That thing is not just a mark. It's like an infection.”
“What the hell…” I mumbled, ideas and theories swimming in my skull.
“Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t end there.” Mary began pulling back the organs, gesturing to the opened cavity.
“Look at her liver, her lungs, any organ with open space. They’re all filled with blood. And yet, her veins are completely empty. Her body appears to have funneled all the blood into itself and out through her orifices. Hell, even her bones are bruised and swollen from bleeding.”
“Is there any substance that could cause this?” I asked, though I already knew the answer. Nothing in the natural world could explain this.
Mary hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. Her usually steely composure faltered, and she wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. “Matt, there’s something wrong with this case. And this body. My advice? Let it fade into obscurity. Jessica will be buried within 48 hours. Maybe some cases need to stay cold, for the good of everyone else.”
I nodded slightly, giving her a noncommittal promise to think about it. But nothing I said was genuine. I wandered out of the coroner’s office, pausing at the door to wave a hand at Mary before stepping into the cold night once again.
...
By the time the autopsy was done, my shift was almost starting. Reluctantly, I sat in the car, watching the faint shape of the sun barely visible behind the clouds. Slowly, I turned the engine over.
The precinct was already buzzing again, and, as usual, so was Luis.
“So now we go out in the middle of the night without telling anyone? Is that how this works now?”
“Jeez, sorry, Mom. I forgot about my curfew.” I rolled my eyes and sank back into the seat I had just left five hours ago.
“Well, young man, I hope you at least brought me some good news.”
I stifled a laugh. “Nothing good, no. But something. The body was… something else.” I slid the photos across the desk.
Luis cursed under his breath as he flipped through the images.
“Mary didn’t know what could’ve done this? I thought she was the Grim Reaper’s go-to girl.”
“Nothing we know could cause these kinds of injuries. No poisons, no blades, no bullets. We’ve got nothing to go off of.”
“Well,” Luis said with a grin, “Not nothing, per se. The full crime scene investigation wrapped up, and they got something for us.” He slid an evidence bag across the table.
The clear plastic bag contained a necklace, with a symbol carved into the centerpiece.
“I swear, it feels like it is looking back at me when I stare at it long enough. Anyway, crime scene techs say the victim's DNA is on it.” Luis grinned.
“What if she did this to herself?” His tone grew softer, staring at the necklace. “What kind of person leaves stuff like this behind?”
“Okay, sure, let’s pretend we have people ritually killing themselves. But why would a member want the whole town to know about it? Wouldn’t that go against the whole idea of subtlety?”
Luis paused, thinking for a moment before answering.
“It doesn’t feel like they were trying to be subtle. More like they wanted us to find this.”
...
My landlord probably thought I was a robber when I walked into my apartment. I hadn’t slept in it for two days, and the weight of insomnia hung heavy on my shoulders. Wearily, I collapsed onto my bed. As I slowly drifted off, I began to hear a familiar buzzing sound.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself back in the coroner's office. Disoriented, I rose from where I had been resting and called for Mary. But my voice seemed to vanish the moment it left my mouth, swallowed by an oppressive silence that hung in the air.
To my left, the corpse of Jessica Hunter lay on the autopsy table. She was as ghostly pale as before, but now, a symbol blazed upon her stomach. And then, her eyes snapped open, locking onto me.
With a grotesque jerk, she raised herself from the table, her organs spilling from the open cavity in her chest. As she moved, I felt the blood drain from my own veins.
"There is freedom in surrender. There is peace in submission."
Her voice was an eerie whisper that seemed to vibrate through my bones. I stumbled back, desperate to avoid her chilling grasp. But as she came closer, an unbearable burning sensation flared on my stomach. The pain grew too much, and I collapsed to the floor, desperately clawing at my shirt.
The symbol stared back at me from my own skin, searing into me. As I looked up, I saw the corpse’s face split down the middle, its twisted mouth still speaking to me.
"Find the freedom in submission."
I woke up with a start, drenched in cold sweat. I yanked off my shirt, relief flooding through me as I found my skin unmarked. I reached to turn on the light, trying to ground myself back into reality. But as I moved, the lampshade above me began to tremble. Suddenly, the whole bed rattled, a violent quake shaking the room. The tremors felt unnaturally strong, but as quickly as they arrived, they stopped.
I sat frozen, trying to process the madness I had just witnessed, before eventually drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep.
