Dusk, the same day. The City of Hohenstadt.
"'Kommissar Glinda Meier is granted expanded jurisdictional authority to lead the Bloody Triangle investigation.' Well, of course. Why not?" muttered a black-haired woman with a ponytail, skimming through a document while leaning against a Horch 830 BL.
The car's roof barely reached her squared, notably broad shoulders. The streetlamp carved across her semi-oval face, illuminating an expression that made it clear she had no patience for whatever this was. A woman who could have passed for an elegant, high-fashion model was standing there, visibly annoyed. Because as far as she was concerned, the document in her hand was nothing more than a formal invitation to work overtime.
"Why not just tell me to drain the ocean while you're at it!" she muttered, dropping into the driver's seat, folding the document, and turning the ignition. She brought along a small enamel-coated thermos of almond cappuccino to keep her light brown eyes from shutting on her.
Nearly a year had passed since she took the lead of an investigation into a series of murders which each victim found with a triangular laceration carved into their forehead. Officially, the case had been named the Bloody Triangle. As far as the public knew, the press had whipped itself into a frenzy claiming that a coven of witches was behind it all. But what the investigation had actually turned up was the opposite.
The victims themselves were the ones identified as witches. That detail had been kept from the public. And it was precisely that detail that kept Kommissar Glinda Meier running through every possible direction this case could escalate.
"How is the Reich supposed to win anything if this is how things are run?" The thought echoed through the cabin like it had nowhere else to go.
The first sip of her cappuccino had barely warmed her throat when she spotted a young man in a brown overcoat and a dark navy fedora, standing under a street lamp, reading a newspaper with a pen in hand, circling lines as he went. Glinda honked and pulled over. He got in, and they were moving before the door had fully shut.
"What did you find?" Glinda asked.
"The Reichswacht has been tightening its grip on Stern Academy ever since the twelfth victim was reported by the Akademiechef, Kommissar." (Reichswacht: Imperial Guard)
"Those dogs had better not piss on my crime scene."
Glinda pressed the clutch and shifted into third, letting the car breathe. Not that it helped much when the weight sitting on both their minds was heavier than any gear change could fix. Rain hammered the asphalt, and the cold outside was the kind that got under your skin.
Both of the elegant woman's hands tightened slightly around the steering wheel as a sharp pain crawled up from her lower back to the base of her neck. She shifted in her seat more than once, jaw set, eyes narrowing each time. She had to hold it together until they reached Stern Academy.
The young man beside her pulled off his thick overcoat, folded it into a U-shape, and wordlessly offered it to her as a cushion.
"That's very kind of you, Schneider," Glinda said, a small smile crossing her face.
"One of the duties of a Kriminalassistent, Kommissar." (Kriminalassistent: Criminal Assistant / Investigative Assistant)
The windshield wipers worked harder as the rain came down heavier. The sound of it against the roof filled the cabin with something almost calm, a strange contrast to the two officers buried in a case that refused to give anything away. Schneider kept scribbling in his newspaper and personal notebook while Glinda wouldn't stop griping about superiors who treated their subordinates like workhorses.
Nearly thirty minutes into the drive toward the City of Mondgarten, the silhouette of Stern Academy's towers began to take shape. The floodlights at the gate caught the rain mid-fall, slicing through the low-hanging mist. The car slowed as an iron barricade and guardpost came into full view. Two guards in dull olive-grey uniforms with white armbands bearing an eight-pointed compass rose stood at attention, MP40s held at a downward angle, their eyes tracking the approaching headlights.
"Reichswacht," Schneider murmured, reaching into his vest.Glinda rolled the window down just enough to let the cold air in. Dienstausweis, police credentials book, was presented and inspected then came word that only one person would be permitted entry. Glinda clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes as she had seen that coming from the moment they left.
"Take the car and head to the police station in Mondgarten!" Glinda ordered Schneider. "Check the archives and forensic records—"
Before she could finish, Schneider was already out of the car, popping open a folding umbrella printed with orange Persian cats, circling around to open the driver's side door for her.
"Jawohl, Kommissar!" (Understood, Kommissar!)
Glinda stared at the cat print for a moment, expression flat, then said, "Cute," and stepped out.
She watched her car turn around and gradually disappear into the road's mist. When she turned back toward the gate, both guards were staring at the umbrella — visibly baffled. A deliberate throat-clear from the 183cm woman in the dark brown leather jacket snapped them back. The iron barrier scraped open. And Kommissar Glinda Meier walked in with the kind of stride that meant business — stepping into the dark of it all, beneath the canopy of a world that wore morality like a costume.
***
"You may have a seat, Frau Kommissar." Enzel's voice carried its usual weight as he steeped a cup of Darjeeling.
"Shut up!"
The academy director's office sat in near silence, save for the rain pressing against the glass. The longer the clock ran, the harder it fell. The crime scene Glinda had come to examine was already compromised. Which is unsecured, trampled, and now soaked through. Access had been strangled down to almost nothing. That alone was enough to make her blood boil.
"Elite guards, they said," Glinda muttered, still propped against the windowsill, eyes fixed on the dark outside. "Turns out they're just idiots in uniform."
The tension in the room held its ground, but Enzel moved through it without a ripple. Crossing the floor to offer Glinda the freshly steeped cup directly. The Darjeeling was just as scalding as her mood. She took it anyway, drinking slowly. The academy director returned to the guest table at the center of the room, easing open a book bound in fine leather, its cover reading "Die Lebensordnung." (The Divine Order for the Living)
"Are you a believer, Kommissar?"
Glinda said nothing. Didn't even look up.
"'Let them be glad when good tidings reach those of noble and upright heart. Those who abide by the law, and those who uphold justice.' How fitting," he continued, reading from the scripture in his lap.
Glinda had not stopped turning over the details of past investigations in her mind, while Enzel quietly awaited word from his guards. On one side of the room stood a representative of an institution that had little love for aristocratic excess. On the other, a high ranking noble of a state apparatus that returned the sentiment in full. A mildly dangerous arrangement, with two opposing parties sharing the same room and no escorts between them.
The silence broke at a knock. A Reichswacht and a female secretary named Hilumy stepped inside.
"Heil Kaiser!" both announced in unison.
Only Enzel returned the salute, then gestured for them to get to the point.
"Administration has confirmed that the victim was a student from the Moderato Class, Kommissar Meier," Hilumy said, stepping forward to hand Glinda a file.
Glinda set her teacup on the windowsill's ledge and opened it. Mostly a profile of the victim, supplemented by statements from close acquaintances, including the last person to have seen them.
"And what does the dog over there want?" Glinda said flatly, not turning her head.
"I am escorting Frau Astrea on the Akademiechef's orders, Kommissar!" the guard shot back.
"Did I ask you?"
The sharpness in her voice landed squarely. The guard flinched and when those light brown eyes finally cut toward him, he dropped his gaze to the floor. Glinda shut the file after pulling two sheets, witness statements and the victim's profile. Something in the list of names had snagged her attention.
"The victim had a wide social circle," Hilumy continued, "but there are no indications of conflict between students. According to the victim's roommate, they had been suffering from itching and skin irritation before eventually visiting the academy clinic."
Enzel, listening, stilled slightly at that then closed Die Lebensordnung.
"There's the crack in the wall," he noted inwardly, and took a sip of his tea.
It was only then that Glinda caught something she had missed entirely. The victim found at this academy was not one person, but two. The student Hilumy had just described was the one found in front of the garden storehouse. The file she had been reading all along referred to the Bloody Triangle case, a separate victim found dead behind the canteen's rubbish area.
"We have someone held in the interrogation room," Enzel added. "You're welcome to question them."
"On what grounds?" Glinda asked.
"I reported the body in front of the garden storehouse to the police this afternoon. Shortly after, this individual was seen heading straight back toward that same storehouse as though entirely unaware there was a corpse at the door. Claims he had only just gone to the canteen kitchen to collect dry waste for gardening."
Something in Glinda's gut told her Enzel had already arranged the pieces before she walked in. A report that read more like a preliminary investigation, a suspect conveniently secured, and the fact that the police had only disclosed one casualty to her. She couldn't prove it. Not yet.
Lightning cracked close enough to rattle the windowpane. The cold crept back in along the back of her neck, condensation bleeding through the glass. The guard stood rigid, MP40 slung at his shoulder. Hilumy had drawn her arms across her chest, rubbing them as a quiet admission that even a heavy overcoat wasn't keeping the chill entirely out.
Glinda's boots struck the floor with purpose as she crossed to the door, which the guard pulled open. She left without a word. Hilumy looked baffled. Enzel watched the door long after it had closed, his expression unreadable, eyes lingering on the spot where Kommissar Glinda Meier's ponytail had disappeared behind.
"Do try to stay ahead of me this time, Frau Meier," he murmured to himself, glancing at the teacup she had left behind on the windowsill ledge.