Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Academie Delacroix

As written by Script

Claire was only halfway through standing when Nox turned to her, and she almost fell straight back down as his eyes met hers. The chill hit her like a tidal wave, prompting her to audibly gasp, swaying on the spot as though about to fall. "I..." she struggled to speak, to clear her mind enough to do anything.

A single step towards the door was enough to tell her that she wasn't going to make it. Her body was sluggish, almost unresponsive. In a last desperate hope, she reached into her pocket for her phone. With her hand still obscured, she dialed a number.

By the time the call connected, she had sunk down to the floor, her consciousness faded.

The cold and the vice-like grip seemed to snap Nathan out of his trance, and for a moment his face made clear his shock. "Y-you're... what? How..? No, stop- Let me go, that's not what I wanted!" He started to panic, trying to pull away.

Reacting to his master's distress, the until-now quieted Samson jumped up, barking. In what was possibly the worst decision of his canine life, he leaped up in an attempt to bite the arm that held Nathan.

"Stop! I don't want... Please..." The boy's protests grew weaker by the moment, as Nox's miasma sunk into him. His head lolled to the side weakly.
 
As written by Emperor Jester

The mutt had the nerve to lash out at him. If it weren't for the fact that Nox knew Nathan would need a companion or two, he would've ended its miserable life long before its fangs found his flesh. Instead, with a heavy hand, the Caer would strike the mutt in the neck, hard enough that it shut off its air supply long enough so that it too would pass out.

Then...he'd stand, to take in his prizes, all the while smashing Claire's cellphone beneath a jackbooted heel. A lovely young doe, a scared but curious fawn, and a mongrel so loyal it would risk certain death for its master. Oh, he had plans for these three...

Like he had at the Square, any and all cameras, if in fact there were any present to begin with, wouldn't make out any of his features as he moved like a specter through the halls of Académie Delacroix, carrying the three prisoners with such grace and ease...and speed.

He left not a window cracked.

Not a table over-turned.

Not a speck of dust out of place.

Aside from the twins, and his captives, not a soul had ever seen or heard Nox in his time at the academy. It was like nothing had happened there at all, minus the smashed cellular device, the abandoned belongs, and the eerily frozen cups of tea...
 
As written by Script

It wasn't long before Académie Delacroix was crawling with police officers. For a child to be taken in broad daylight from one of the most prestigious private institutions in the city was unheard of. The staff and board were in a state of panic, trying to provide reassurance to the outraged parents and students who had believed the school to be safe.

Three security guards had been found dead, apparently killed before they had a chance to so much as call for backup. Alan Chapelle, Laura Belrose, and Bernard Dupont. Chapelle and Belrose had been killed at the rear gate of the campus, presumably after confronting the kidnapper either upon his entry or exit. Dupont had been found in one of the corridors, after telling a colleague he was going to go and figure out why the cameras were playing up.

Their deaths had been gruesome. Chapelle's head had been ripped from his shoulders, Belrose had a gaping hole in her chest roughly the size of a fist, and Dupont had been torn open from shoulder to hip. It was obvious that the culprit was supernatural.

The school was set to be closed for the next week, with students receiving work sent to their homes whilst the police investigation was carried out.

Detective Inspector Colette sighed, leaning out of the window of the music school hallway where the room that the boy had been taken from was located. Occasionally, one of the CSI team would walk past and into the room, but it had been quickly determined that beyond the frozen tea, there was little to be learned from the room itself.

And that was a matter for the church to speculate on, though she had a few theories herself.

She already had people collecting the security tapes to be viewed back at the station. From what they knew, none of the footage had captured the culprit - each camera going dark before they came into view. But examining the footage on either side of those black spots could prove useful.

The church had been called in, so now all that was left to do was wait.
 
As written by Rōnin

They wouldn't have to wait long.

The echo of heavy footsteps on the tile, the hushed clinks of metal plate over nanofoam; Inspector Colette would hear the approaching paladin before she saw him, the tall church knight looming down the hallway towards the music room. His eyes were hidden beneath a shaded fiberglass visor, his head framed in a steel barbute helmet. Only his jaw and mouth were visible.

"Inspector," he greeted her as he approached, touching two fingers to his lips, "Sir Savien Durandet." He offered her a metal hand. "Three dead. Two missing. No witnesses, little hope on the security footage." He spoke with focused calm, offering little in the way of pity or concern. He was here to work. "What else am I missing?"
 
As written by Script

Colette took the offered hand, shaking it firmly but briskly. "It's grim, Sir Durandet, I won't lie." The officer's manner was somber but stoic. As an animancer, she was no stranger to the supernatural, but the brutality of these murders was far beyond even most werewolf or undead attacks. Not to mention the audacity of it taking place in such a prestigious and secure institution, in the middle of the afternoon.

"We only have one lead so far," she answered, getting straight to the point. "From one of the music teachers, a Josephine Lacroix. Related to one of your colleagues, I think. She was in her office at the time of the murders and disappearances, and spoke to Claire Royer - the missing woman - minutes before we estimate they were taken."

She flicked briefly through a notepad. "We have a name from her of a 'talent scout' of some sort who had been in contact with the boy, Nathan Hart, recently. At once of his performances at St. Lemeux Hall. We only have a first name for him - 'Dorian'. Apparently tall, with long dark hair, and very handsome. I'm told Miss Royer couldn't stress that enough in her conversation with Mrs. Lacroix. I don't suppose the name means anything to you?"
 
As written by Rōnin

Savien listened closely, stacking the information against the clues and case files already arrayed in his mind. Tall, dark hair, handsome ... coupled with the brutal nature of the killings, it wasn't hard to consider 'Malcolm' as a suspect here. Again. The paladin felt cold spike of anger shoot through his spine and fought the urge to snarl. The proselytes, the Nuvellons. How many people had to suffer and die before the church did its job?

"The name, no," he replied, "the description..." His voice trailed. He turned and looked into the piano room, at the evening light beaming through the windows in the wall. "...let's enter the crime scene."

There were a couple techs in the room snapping pictures. The paladin walked to the center, eyes pacing the massive grand, the lounge sofa, the tea, the discarded belongings and the broken cellphone. Savien stooped over the items, perusing them carefully and putting everything back the way he'd found it.

"Everything here belongs to Nathan and Claire, I assume," he peered over the tea, removing a small device from his belt and focusing it on the frozen liquid. "Have we salvaged anything on the cell phone? The provider listing any outgoing calls?"
 
As written by Script

"We believe the last call the phone made was to the police," Colette answered. "An emergency operator took a call from her number that went dead moments after he picked up. Most likely, that was when the phone was destroyed. We've not pulled anything else off it yet, but from that, it's clear that she figured out something was wrong before they were taken. That there was no attempt to barricade the door or otherwise escape leads me to think that she started to make the call while the culprit was present."

She seemed primed to continue, but at that moment her phone rang. "One moment, I have to take this."

A short conversation followed. "Yes. Alright, go ahead. Really? Uhg... That's not going to be fun. No, I'll go myself. I expect them to be difficult. That everything? Alright. Get statements from the others, but I'll deal with the Castellanes myself. Good work."

With that, she set the phone down. "A development from the security footage. Apparently, prior to the camera in the corridor outside going blank, the Castellane twins were sitting outside the room. When the camera came back on, they were gone. Footage shows them leaving the building in a hurry."
 
As written by Rōnin

The Castellanes? Weren't they at the rave that Malcolm had attended? Hell, one of them had sat in on his interview Arien. If Malcom was behind this - or 'Dorian', whatever the hell his real name was - then he seemed to be infatuated with the same people. He'd been at Nathan's recitals prior to kidnapping him. He was following the twins. He'd murdered Inarins parents after talking with him at the rave. It almost seemed like he was laying the groundwork for a larger plan.

"The tea was flash frozen," he rose, tucking the scope back into his belt. No ice crystals. Further evidence of magic, not that he expected anything else. "A call to the police, yet no sign of struggle. Two students allowed to escape..." He always left survivors.

His attention snapped back to the inspector. "...Colette, isn't it? I caught your name on the dispatch." He stepped around the piano, taking the room from another angle. "You're an animancer, as I understand it. Or am I mistaken?"

How he knew that was anyone's guess. The church had access to police dossiers, though it seemed unlikely that Savien had memorized the names and supernatural inclinations of every officer on the force.

Unless, of course, he had.
 
As written by Script

"It is. Apologies, I didn't introduce myself. Detective Inspector Colette Lavoie. And yes, I am an animancer." Colette raised an eyebrow at Savien's knowledge, but didn't question it. "Before you ask, I'm scheduled to attempt contacting the victims' spirits as soon as the post mortems are complete."

She glanced towards the tea. "The frozen tea strikes me as the most bizarre thing. The attacks on the security guards suggest some kind of... physically powerful monster. But ice magic? That's fairly specific. Elemental witchcraft isn't unheard of, but far from common. It might be worth contacting the city's witchcraft and necromancer communities for the identities of any people with that sort of magic at their disposal."

Her eyes swung back around to Savien, then, piercing silvery orbs that gave the impression of seeing a lot more than what was on the surface. "Unless you have a clearer idea of any monsters that possess such powers, Sir Durandet. You certainly have a line of thought, I feel."
 
As written by Rōnin

Savien met her eyes, her steely irises reflected in his visor. The knight had never liked lying. Plain and simple, he wasn't good at it. Too much could go wrong - a misspoken name, a mix-up of time or place and the whole thing melted like a bar of tin in the forge. The truth was stronger, sturdier stuff. It was the truth that Savien put his faith in - even when it wasn't what he wanted to hear or say. Still, the church had secrets. The Caer conspiracy was unraveling, but his Order still clung to the last scraps of secrecy which kept the horrific truth from the public. He needed to honor that.

"I do," he nodded, "but until more evidence comes to light, I cannot say." A twinge of regret tempered his iron voice. "Forgive me, Inspector. I mean no disrespect to you or your work. But I have reason to believe that this is linked to a larger case that I'm investigating." He drew a breath, his hand thumbing along his sword hilt. "A case that the Order has decided, as of yet, to keep under wraps."

He turned and knelt before the bags, sifting through its contents. Best to change the subject. "Maybe this is a long shot, but is there any way for you to ... I don't know ... sense previous life energy?" He retrieved a bottle of pills from Nathan's bag and checked the prescription. "Sort of like how heat stays on a chair after someone's left it. If someone was particularly powerful, could you..." His voice trailed, a small gruff escaping his throat. "...sorry. I know nothing of your craft."
 
As written by Script

Colette met Savien's gaze without a change in her expression. The Monastic Order keeping secrets was nothing new. When he had finished explaining, she simply nodded curtly, pressing the issue no further. "I'm not the most potent aura seer on the force, and far from it amongst the Ord," she said in answer to the paladin's question. "But if the aura was powerful enough, it's possible it might have left a trace. I wouldn't have picked up on it passively like some do, so..."

She trailed off, turning and taking a breath as she focused on the room. Her eyes closed to block out the unnecessary distraction of visual input, as she extended her soulsight in an attempt to read the room.

At first, nothing. Only Savien's aura, and that of the technicians, greeted her senses. They were like motes of warmth, fluctuating with emotions too intermingled for her unrefined reading to clearly identify. Her specialty was in communing with the dead, binding spirits that were intact enough to retain memories of their own demise. Reading auras was something near all animancers could do, but not all chose to hone that sense.

But there was... something. Colette focused her perception on the thin veil of otherness that crawled at the edge of her senses, drawing it to the forefront of her awareness, and-

In an instant, the floodgates were opened. Like an avalanche, the weight of the Caer's lingering aura fell upon her mind with the weight of all the vampire's malice and strength. There was no warmth to it, as there was to the aura of a living soul. Only the bitter chill of death, the promise of eternal winter. It felt like her own aura had been plunged into a frozen lake, and she retreated away, dragging herself back from the brink of drowning in it.

Colette let out a shriek, physically flinching backwards. Her eyes snapped open, and she staggered, wavering for a moment before regaining her stability.

"God," she breathed. "What was that? It was so... cold."
 
As written by Rōnin

A demon. Savien answered in his mind. A killer. A demigod. A Caer. He gave Colette a moment to collect herself, pondering the facts of the case. He killed proselytes and church benefactors. He kidnapped children and tormented the same groups of people. Malcolm. Dorian. Caer. Did the names he chose mean anything? Was there an overarching plan to it all? Was he acting on fancy? Some sick mingling of the two?

"We're hunting a monster, inspector," Savien replied, "an immensely powerful monster." He stepped around the piano and glanced into the pinblock. "I'd like a copy of your interview with the Castellanes as soon as you speak with them. Let me know if they end up being uncooperative. I know a proselyte who might be able to reach them. We should also start watching the Castellane family - the twins and their parents. If my hunch is right, the monster will be moving against them soon. They need to be made aware of the danger they're in." He rounded the instrument and took a glance out the window. "He fixates on people. Hurts them. Manipulates them." He shook his head. "Why, I don't know. Maybe he's trying to mold them - turn them into something he can use. Maybe he just likes to cause pain." He looked back to Colette. "Until further evidence arises, the Castellanes should be considered prime targets. They need to be protected."
 
As written by Script

Colette felt a shiver run up her spine at the paladin's words, but she kept her expression carefully controlled. "A monster by even the church's standards, is it? I'll keep that in mind." She shook her head. "If the Castellanes are a target, their private security can likely do more for them than we can. But I'll speak to my superiors about it."

The inspector paused for a moment, considering. A battle was briefly waged between pride and pragmatism behind her eyes before she went on. "You have a lot of information on this case that I don't, I feel. If you can't divulge that information, then you should attend the interview with me. I can only extract information about topics I know to inquire on."

She turned away, then, folding her arms behind her back and grimacing. "Whatever I felt just now, Sir Durandet... The manner of the killings here is consistent with the reports I've read on the Nuvellon Estate and Lumiena Square." She turned to fix him with a hard, accusatory stare. "Those reports all concluded the likely culprits to be werewolves, and yet you have a seeming wealth of knowledge on a monster that fits the bill far better. I trust you understand the implications of such ... errors."
 
As written by Rōnin

"Interview..." Savien's visor hid his wince. Conversations with witnesses weren't his strong suit. The paladin was much more comfortable grilling suspects or interrogating informants, not so much talking with trauma victims. Still, Colette had a point. He knew the facts of the case, she didn't. If she took the job solo, they wouldn't get satisfactory results.

"I'll come," he replied. Two spoiled, preppy, rich kids. How much trouble could they possibly give him?

"I trust you understand the implications of such ... errors."

"I had no say on the statement they ended up releasing on Lumenia," Savien said, "and I wasn't involved in the Nuvellon investigation." A curt silence. "But yes. I know the implications. And no. I don't approve." The church had shifted the blame of the Caer murders onto the garoux, further inciting racial tensions in the city. It was supposed to be a 'noble lie', a facade to keep the public from learning the truth about the vampires among them. For all that, it was undoubtably damaging...

He threw off his doubts with a grunt. It was his job to find the truth, not meander to the lies that were told in the meantime. "The sooner we catch this thing, the sooner we can dispense with the facades." He straightened up. "I'll talk to the council. See if there's more we can share with the force. I can't guarantee I'll be able to tell you all of it, but I guess anything is better than what you know now." He stepped closer, the evening sunlight shimmering the edge of his plate. "We have to trust each other, inspector. The Order can't do this without the police. I certainly can't, at least."
 
As written by Script

"Of course, Sir Durandet. Trust is paramount. Which is why I hope you're successful in encouraging your council to give us the real story behind these murders." Colette shook her head. "God only knows they're brutal enough to give us plenty to worry about, without having to worry about your order keeping us in the dark."

She took a breath. "But in the meantime, you will have my full cooperation. I intend to speak with the Castellanes as soon as possible, so unless you'd like to examine the crime scene further - the sites of the deaths, for instance - we ought to set off immediately. It's already late."
 
As written by Rōnin

"The murder scenes will keep," Savien replied, "but the memory of frightened teenagers is far less static. Let's get to the twins."

As they left the crime scene down the hallway, Savien picked up his phone and dialed in a number. "Ramsey? Yeah. Could you tell me where proselyte Nuvellon is right now...?"
 
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