Page 3

Chapter 2

Cyrus

Cyrus's brows knitted together, teeth clenched, eyes blazing with anger. Each step was powerful and he could already see Detective Mark starting to crumble a bit, watching him move closer with a pained smirk on his face.

Cyrus held back a scoff when Zorfied sniggered behind him.

Cyrus halted mid-stride, turning his gaze locked onto the poor policeman behind them who dared to comment. With a slight raise of his brow and a measured pause, Cyrus addressed the officer, his voice flat but deep. “I am Cyrus McRory, and I do what I want.” He waited a few seconds, watching the man in front of him deflate, his fair skin even paler, eyes rounding with a slight touch of fear. “Why don’t you put the journalists back in their place instead?”

With little surprise, Mark’s colleague stepped back, heading to the journalists, before Cyrus stopped him.

“And if they don’t want to move, tell them I’ll send Zorf.”

The bleached blond with obsidian eyes and a sarcastic smile perpetually living on his lips smiled at the reporters. Ian next to him, just rolled his eyes.

The policeman on duty could only nod his head, catching Mark’s eyes, but to Cyrus’s satisfaction, the detective just waved his hand. He probably had other priorities right now. Mark was one of those cops who didn’t really “care” about him and his extra activities. They even kind of liked each other. After all they had been to high school together, and much later collaborated during the war. Besides, Cyrus was always generous with people who helped him, and who helped others, he was genuinely concerned about his country and his people. So was Mark .

And Mark was not dumb. He had seen enough of what happened to anyone who went in the way of Cyrus as early as intermediate school.

“Cyrus.” Mark nodded, hands still in pockets, probably hoping it would at least give him an air of self-confidence.

“Mark, details, now,” Cyrus growled. Politeness had never been his strong point.

He stood motionless, towering over the detective in front of him, holding back a laugh as Mark scratched his head nervously. Silence grew heavy, and Cyrus could feel Zorf’s impatience, his friend taping his foot on the concrete. They knew it was bad, and Mark’s reaction and silence was only confirming this. Cyrus pinched his brow, not sure why the detective was so scared to talk. It’s not as if he was personally responsible for the mess now, was he?

Cyrus tried not to let a satisfied smile stretch across his face; there was one explanation for Mark’s fear right now. Irishtown, the neighbourhood they were standing in right now, was also called Cyrustown. Cyrus controlled everything around here: who worked, who lived, who paid, who made trouble. And if you were making trouble, you were usually nowhere to be seen soon after.

“Tell me,” Cyrus said finally.

Mark swallowed hard. “That was kind of brothel…” Mark muttered, looking like a little boy guilty of stealing sweets.

Cyrus's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger passing through them. His arms tightened across his chest, muscles tense. He gave a curt nod, barely more than a tilt of his head.

“But worse…”

He could feel the fury flashing across his face. This time his eyebrows were so furrowed they looked like one on his forehead.

“Theyreallunderage.”

There was no need for yelling. Cyrus looked up at the dark and decrepit building, aware of Mark watching him, waiting for his reaction.

Cyrus stood still, eyes fixed on the bricks building, lips pressed into a thin line. His fingers drummed an unknown rhythm against his thigh, hinting at some form of chaos hidden under his calm appearance.

“Can we go in?” Cyrus asked without giving Mark a look.

At the lack of answer, he turned his head back towards the detective, now grimacing, as if pulled by two distinct forces. The fear of Cyrus, and the fear of his boss.

Mark exhaled, louder than necessary, walking toward the entrance, the others close behind. As usual, the first was the winner.

“Yeah… the guys finished taking stock. We need to take away the girls now.”

“How many?”

“22.”

Cyrus and his companion’s eyes widened, the three of them now staring at Mark.

“Yep, and they're almost all kids, most between 12 and 16. The oldest is 18. Told us she had been there for 5 years… We did a quick search. Turns out they're all missing kids from the war. Remember those families trying to survive?”

Cyrus nodded.

“Looks like they sold their offspring to the Reseau.”

The Reseau… .

A scandal broke out when the war was close to an end. Among many other atrocities, authorities learned some desperate families had given their kids to the biggest prostitution network in Ireland, the infamous Reseau. Cyrus, Ian, and Zorfield were unofficially charged with the task of deep cleaning the existing mess. It mostly went unnoticed, the streets were still filled with blood, and at the time, no one wanted to ask questions.

They had a lot of fun.

“I thought we cleared those.” Ian’s soft voice hung in the air.

“Same here.” Mark grunted, exchanging a look with Cyrus before entering the building.

They all did things during the war they never wanted to think about, but cleaning the Reseau wasn’t something any of them regretted.

And now this? It didn’t sound good. Cyrus couldn’t believe something so big had passed right under his nose. He thought he was finally in control of everything in this part of the city. He made sure of it, he worked hard for it. He killed for it. Heads were going to roll, and they needed to roll fast .

Inside the building, two dislocated bodies lay on the beautiful Persian carpet, naked. Dried blood puddled under their bodies, their flaccid dicks hanging out.

“We assume they tried to flee from the upstairs rooms.” Mark pointed to two doors, looking out onto the stairs. “Apparently the killer started on the right side of the building, climbing up to a window, like a fucking cat. Then cleared her way through the corridors. These men must have heard screaming and got scared." Mark took a deep breath, "She caught up with them here in the entrance.”

“She?” Ian looked confused.

“Yes, apparently a woman did this,” Mark added.

“On her own?” Ian asked.

“Yep.”

Ian looked up at the stairwell, dreading the spectacle awaiting them.

“Can we talk to the girls?” Cyrus asked.

Mark looked at him. “I can't let you do that Cyrus, I might get in trouble and you know it.” There was only so much he could allow, even Cyrus knew that, but he was not ready to give up.

“This is my neighbourhood. It's up to me to take care of it.”

“But this is murder. It is up to the police to deal with them.” Mark sighed, his face showing he didn’t believe one word of what he just said.

Cyrus burst out laughing. “It’s not our lady killer I want to find. It’s all the customers of this damn brothel. Let’s clear the fucking Reseau once and for all. We worked too hard to let his happen again.”

Mark shook his head, and when Cyrus turned to his friends, Zorf and Ian were nodding in approval. The smirk on Zorf’s thin lips, showcasing how excited he was about the idea. Cyrus turned back to Mark, who was looking around. “She killed Senator Andrew,” murmuring, he leaned closer to Cyrus. “Given what she did to him, I bet he was the one she wanted. She just decided to change her plans when she saw the other vermin hanging around here.”

Zorfield chuckled. “Senator Andrews? You can’t be serious? “

“Unfortunately, yes.” Mark sighed. “Apparently he had some inclinations for tied teenage girls.”

Cyrus let out a light chuckle. “I knew there was a reason you look like you wished you didn’t take the call.”

Senator Andrews, well-respected by the entire island, had acted at the end of the war as a caring politician, enabling rougher laws for anyone guilty of sexual crimes, even condemning with severity any participation in the Reseau.

Oh the irony .

Murmurs and sniffles broke the silence as a small troop of women descended from the upper floor. Fragile, pale, and covered in bruises and marks, they looked even younger than they were. Barely teenagers, some holding hands, their knuckles whitening under the pressure. One girl saw the two bodies on the floor and started laughing hysterically, causing a break in the armada of female policemen and paramedics cautiously surrounding them. A cop stepped aside to cater and comfort the girl, now breaking down in tears.

Cyrus’s fists trembled at his sides, trying to hold back from punching something or someone. “Let me talk to them. I want to know every client they've dealt with.”

“And what will you do to them, Cyrus? Will you kill them?” Unlike Cyrus, Mark had lowered his voice, conscious of the many ears in the room. “We’re not at war anymore.” He shook his head, placing his hand on Cyrus’s shoulder. “You do know Erik is getting replaced by Cragnum, right? And everyone at the station is on edge because of the other murders.”

Cyrus scoffed. “Let me take care of my own ass Mark. I’m sure you and I can work this out.”

A girl broke away from the group, walking quickly towards the men, her long blond hair falling on her shoulders, wrapped in a blanket, trying to hide the outfit underneath.

“Ellen! Come back here!” A female police officer followed behind.

“Are you going to stop her?” Ellen stood tall, and despite her weaken features her face was showing the fight she still had in her. “Even though she is the one who saved us!” The other girls paused, turning to the discussion.

“She committed horrific murders, Miss… it's my job,” Mark said with waning conviction .

“Come and spend one night with us in this place, and you will understand what horrific means.” The girl now held an air of disgust, her mouth twisted while her hands clenched over and over on the blanket. “What these men were doing to us, wasn't it your job to stop them? You want to look for our… our saviour instead of finding the sons of bitches allowing THIS! Do you know how many politicians have fucked me during my five months here?? How many policemen?? Do you think they were doing their JOB then?” Ellen screamed, setting off the tears of several behind her.

Cyrus pivoted on his heel, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes locked onto Mark’s. Mark’s jaw clenched, and he averted his look to answer to the young girl. “I have to do my job, but if it makes you feel any better, we don’t have any clues… and strangely, none of you remember her face, nor her voice, and oh surprise, nothing about her allure in general.”

Ellen stiffened. “Half of her face was covered by a mask, and we were busy, you know, having dicks in our ass and stuff” The policewoman pulled her by the arm bringing her back to the rest of the group, finally moving the survivors out.

“Useless witnesses, inspector?” Cyrus snickered.

“Fine, I’ll get you up to speed, but then you leave before Erik or the Duo arrive. They don’t like you meddling in our investigations.”

“Not my problem.”

Mark sighed, but bowed. “Okay, here's the story. 11 dead, most by haemorrhage, throats sliced by some metal object. The girls told us about some kind of “star” attached to a wire, which the killer swung in all directions, and apparently, she aims damn well. The first to be killed was in the company of the girl there, Ellen, in a charming room decorated with taste… I’ll send you pictures if that helps. Then it looks like she went out, cleaned the other rooms, before spending some one-on-one time with Andrews.”

“What did she do to him?” Ian asked, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

Mark scoffed. “Not nice things, I’ll tell you that.” He shook his head. “She sliced off his dick. The ME thinks he was still alive.”

Zorfield bust out laughing before Ian gave him a light kick.

“That's all?” Cyrus asked .

“I told you, we have almost nothing!” Mark grumbled, frustrated. “No prints yet, she had gloves, no hair or whatever. All we could get from the girls was that she was dressed in leather, had a black mask covering the top of her face, moved fast, and had a soft voice. Like I said, we don't have anything!”

“Indeed, it's meagre… I guess they don't remember her hair, her eyes, her mouth…??” Cyrus asked, his voice full of sarcasm, it seemed the girls would be no help finding the lady killer, but his little finger told him they would be quite talkative about their past customers.

“We'll leave you to it Mark.” Cyrus nodded. “We’ve got work to do, going to try to find out more about who was holding this thing.”

“Yeah, and I'm going to have to investigate this girl… Cyrus, remember the July murder?”

Cyrus frowned. “You mean the Lovish date that turned really bad?” He didn’t pay much attention, but the poor girl had invited a guy she found on the latest dating app and things turned ugly. Her raped body showed evidence of torture.

“Yeah, that one.” Mark stopped, looking over his shoulder. “We have another one, almost in all points similar, but the big heads don’t think it’s the same killer, so they have different teams working the cases. I think it’s the same guy, and the Duo agrees.”

“Are they working both?” Cyrus asked.

“Andy and Bonnie are on the first one. I am on the recent, for now. We’re communicating and comparing, but we were told to stick to a single killer.” He paused, looking at Cyrus. “Rumour is, maybe someone would like us to pin it on you, or at least get you in trouble.”

Cyrus’s brows knitted together. Why? How?

“Looks like you knew both girls.” Mark shrugged.

Cyrus clicked his tongue. Now that is an unfortunate coincidence. Though to be fair, he knew many people, especially women. And Ireland was not that big. Come on! The coroner’s troupes were coming in, signalling his time was almost up with Mark.

“What’s their names?” Not that he would remember a one-night stand.

“Roisin Garvin and Mary Murphy. ”

Brows formed a V on Cyrus’s forehead. He knew MANY Roisins and Marys. Those must be some of the most common first names in this country.

“You’ve had them both.” Ian sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I did?”

Ian exhaled, his head shaking from left to right in disapproval, while Zorfield chuckled behind his back. Ignoring his friends, Ian turned towards Mark.

“I can find out the dates Cyrus met the girls if that will help? And probably some alibi too, for the nights of the murders.”

Cyrus knew Ian had been keeping track of his endeavours, hoping it would come in handy one day, looked like he was right.

I swear I’m never making fun of his attention to detail again.

“Well, it’s not like having you telling us Cyrus was hanging out with both of you at home is gonna help his case much. You’re not that credible.” Mark shrugged. “No offence.”

Ian opened his mouth, ready to protest—

“Heyyy!” Zorfield walked over, hands on his hips, his obsidian eyes shining with some crazy light. “Offence taken! I'm not credible, but Ian is great!”

“Thanks babe,” Ian sighed, while Cyrus tried to hold back a laugh before getting back to his concerned face.

“Well, that’s all great. We didn’t even know there was a second one.” Cyrus glanced at Ian, who nodded his head.

“Like I said… Erik’s time is coming to an end.” Mark sighed. “So… about those murders.” He leaned his head in the direction of the bloody puddle on the floor, the bodies now taken by the coroner. “I have to send my daughters to college next year…”

Cyrus’s lips curled into a slow, calculated smile, his eyes narrowing with mischief. As usual, he would get what he came for. “I want all the reports, depositions, and clues you're going to get. I don't care about the lady killer; I want the clients and managers of the brothel. Do that, and you won’t pay a cent for your kids’ time at uni.”

Mark hesitated before finally shaking his head. “Okay, deal.”

Cyrus scratched his chin. “Let’s add those two last murders on to the list as well, will you? ”

Ian glanced at Cyrus. “Are you sure this is a great idea Cyr’? If you are a suspect, that’s just gonna attract attention to us. We don’t need that.”

“If I can add.” Mark cleared his throat, motioning them toward the door. “Those files might be hard to get to you.”

“What do you mean?” Ian eyed him.

“We are not supposed to take anything out of the station, we are being watched about what we’re doing and finding. Cragnum decided he would be the one getting the merit for it, something about wanting to start as a strong Commander, finding a serial killer and stuff. And because anyone with a tad of neurones knows you have many informants in the police…”

Mark stepped out of the building after his short speech, taking a deep breath, his eyes looking around suspiciously, groaning when he spotted something outside. Cyrus followed his look, frowning at the cameras.

“Fine, I guess I will have to ask Erik himself.” Cyrus smiled.

“Good luck with that. Cragnum is on his back. I am personally going to focus on those.” Mark shoved his hand around, designing the crappy building.

“That’s a dead-end Mark.” Ian tilted his head.

“Why is that?”

“Did you hear Ellen? ‘The Saviour.’ In spite of herself, she has just given her name to this killer. She saved dozens of young girls from the atrocities that high ranked men committed. She's going to attract a whole bunch of followers. No one will help you; no one will testify. By choosing this ‘branch’ if I may say so, she has ensured her own safety. I mean, look, even Cyrus isn’t that interested in finding her.”

“That’s a fair point.” Cyrus looked at Mark, eyebrows raised. Ian could have been the best profiler in Great Britain if it weren’t for his relationship with the famous gang leader.

Mark shook his head. “Do you really think that?”

“Of course.” Ian stopped, no doubt pondering what he found inside. “I would even say she's killed before, but probably managed to do it with discretion. I'm sure if we searched hard enough, we could track her.” He shook his head. “But here her anonymity is dead. So, there are only two outcomes. Either she will become more violent, because she will feel protected; or she'll calm down and let things blow over. But given how she seems to appreciate the killing, I doubt it.”