It was the day they were going to get a breakthrough.

Indira was more than sure of it. The positive messages she had received from Renée only added to this confidence. She felt guilty, though, for not starting her day even earlier. Because judging from her call logs and the bunch of messages that tumbled through in a cacophony of bird chirps, her chosen ringtone, after she unmuted her phone, it was clear Renée was trying her hardest to reach out to Indira. She had found something. Else why would she go crazy like that? In fact, her last message was something like this;

you need to come asap.

That message had come in at 3:01 in the morning. It was close to four and a half hours later when Indira got into her grey minivan and was en route to the hospital. She was already in her uniform with her service gun holstered in. Indira did not feel like taking anyone else with her. This would not be some active crime scene. Besides, a lot of the men were not super comfortable being around a cadaver for extended periods of time. Maybe she was a bitch for needling them about it often, but gods, she needed to let out all the shit she had heard over the years out of her system.

“You are a girl. Are you sure you can do it?”

“You know you'll have to deal with blood and gore firsthand?”

“There are other options open, you know that, right?”

It baffled people that she could deal with it just fine. Indira knew exactly what she was getting into when she joined the force. It was funny how people forgot that a woman dealt with blood and gore almost all her life, more than a man ever would, and at ages it would be unfathomable for them to bear it or stomach it, for that matter. Hell, it was in their biology. Maybe these comments were the push she needed to submit the application.

Or break a senior officer's nose, because he grabbed your ass, said a snarky voice in her head. Not that she regretted it, though this was one reason she was sent off to Gwaywe. In fact, she would do it a thousand times if given the opportunity. Indira grinned at that, flashing all of her teeth. It was one of the finest moments. To see the look of utter horror on the white man's face as blood stained the top of his pristine uniform. His wife must have been so pissed, huh? Blood is not that easy to remove from the surface once it has claimed as its own. That not so little wretch should have known this before touching her.

She turned on her car's radio and sped off to the hospital as the first notes of Ruby Baby filled the interior of the vehicle. A favourite of hers from back in the day. Indira sang along with it, her voice clear and energetic, as the morning breeze played with the curls of her hair.

“Like a ghost, I'm gonna haunt you Ruby Baby, when will you be mine…”

***

Unfortunately for Indira, the morning did not remain mirthful for very long.

She knew something was wrong the moment she parked her car in the hospital parking lot and walked up to the front entrance. A group of people, including the receptionist, who looked as if she had been dragged out of her bed, stood near the desk, talking in hushed tones. Two nurses held a janitor as he trembled, recalling whatever he had experienced. Indira raised an eyebrow. For a moment she felt her heart still and all she could hear were the fragments of their conversation.

“... she is not okay, I tell you.”

“We should phone the chief! Or somebody. I don't know what to do!” The receptionist gesticulated, her messy braided swinging like a club. “Fuck it. I don't get paid enough to deal with stuff like this.”

“There was blood,” the janitor panted, still very much out of breath. “Oh God, blood…”

Blood? A jolt of electricity went through Indira’s entire body. She picked up pace and rushed inside, rousing the attention of the harried group. The receptionist looked at her and immediately broke away from the group to speak with her. Up close, the grim lines of her face only made the coiling sensation in Indira’s lower belly grow even tighter.

“Ma'am, we were about to call you,” she said. “I think something has happened to Dr. Holmes?”

“What do you mean by that? What has happened?”

The receptionist took a deep breath. “You see, last evening she worked on the bog body that was recovered from the bog behind the Reed House. Said she would stay down at the morgue for at least until the morning.”

“Nothing was wrong. None of the night staff reported anything strange happening from inside the morgue. In fact, there was no need for us to go there,” she continued. “Then Mike went there to check on the doctor before the morning shift began. There was blood on the glass panel, ma'am. And the door wouldn't open no matter how hard we tried.”

Indira staggered. The messages. Gods be good, the damned messages. What if Renée was asking for help? What if she had slept through it while something was happening to her friend? Could be her lifelong habit of muting her phone could have cost her something precious. Breath hitched in her throat. No, it cannot be that bad. Of course it was not. Maybe Renée was a little hurt, but mostly alright.

But the way the others looked at her, she was not sure of it.

“Why was I not informed of it earlier?” Indira’s voice was ice cold. “Why the hell did nobody try to break down that door to see what was going on?”

“Ma'am—”

“Why!” She had not meant to scream, but she did it anyway. “Why am I learning all this so late? How come something could have happened in your morgue and none of you people noticed?”

Nobody had anything to say. Indira was breathing heavily. Sweat had formed on the top of her forehead. She clenched and unclenched her fists to regain some control. She did not like it at all. Not at all. And damn her for muting her phone last night. She wished she hadn't. Maybe then…no, she would not let herself complete that thought.

“Come with me.”

And then she ran.

***

The run down to the morgue was never-ending to Indira, when in reality it must have been less than five minutes.

Most of the group, save for that janitor, had come scurrying after her. But she did not pay them heed. Her focus was to make sure that Renée was okay and not badly hurt. She totally had in mind the things she would say to Renée once they got her out. Indira did not approve of staying up all night to complete any task. It only muddles the brain and makes one commit mistakes. But Renée swore on the power of coffee; black with no sugar or cream.

The group stood in front of the door. It was made of steel with a little glass panel in the middle. One could peer inside through it. But the problem was that it was thoroughly stained. A large splatter of dried blood, dark brown, occluded the viewer from seeing what was inside. A bearer of bad news, no matter how you interpret it.

But Indira was beyond interpretation at that point. She pushed the door, putting her entire body weight into the effort. Years of strict discipline and exercise had ensured she was all lean muscles and strong bones. Thrice, she lunged at the door, before at last it gave way and opened with a loud screech.

The morgue stank like the insides of a butcher's shop. It was so humid and the sour tang of blood was everywhere. Indira's insides clenched; she was grateful that she had not eaten anything before driving to the hospital other than her morning tea. Someone behind her made a retching sound. And she knew why the moment her eyes landed on the floor.

Renée was slumped against the door, shoved to a side, when Indira had forced the door open.

She was very much not alive. She gaped at the wall in front of her, her gaze glassy. Her mouth was a gaping maw of broken teeth and a mangled tongue upon which drops of congealed blood gleamed like tiny, grotesque rubies. Her mouth was stretched so wide that it seemed she was smiling like one of those horror movie puppets. And from below her jaw? Her head was stuck on a freaking fringe of sinew. Jagged marks had torn through the flesh and maybe even the bones. Was that the oesophagus that glinted wetly under the overhead lights?

“Bloody hell!”

It was the receptionist swearing that brought Indira back to the Earth. She was staring at the mess that remained of Renée Holmes. No, this was not the woman she remembered. Not the movie buff with whom she had spent several Fridays with. This couldn't be the incorrigible flirt who kept dropping till Indira said she was and would never be interested in relationships. After that they became such good friends. She relied on Renée, and Renée relied on her. But not anymore.

It was moments like this that made her wonder if there was really a soul. Else why would she not feel for this broken husk, the same affection she felt for Renée? There was something here that was gone, leaving a gaping vacuum. Unseen but not unfelt. Never unfelt. So Indira Mukherjee, DI, fell on her knees in front of the corpse that had once been her friend and colleague.

She never noticed the slight twitch in the index finger on the right hand of the bog body, which lay half uncovered behind her on a gurney.

***

That killing had been impulsive. It acknowledged that. But it had been so hungry; the random forest critters or some wandering pet did not sate the hunger it felt. To have a human as its meal was a rare indulgence. That old hag had made sure that it remained that way; miserable and aching.

The constant gnawing that it could feel in its marrows. It was the kind of  hunger that had teeth, which did not sate, if not indulged again and again. This hunger could eat something up from within. That wretched girl's curse still rang in its ears —

“Never shall you eat, but be forever hungry. Never shall you leave if you aren't brought forth out of free will.”

Not that it could walk. Not that anybody would take it out in the open world of their own free will. But bequeathing something that belonged to it for years did the trick. That was loophole it had to exploit. It had then used that former meal to enter and take that woman with the ridiculous hair. It had been ravenous by that point, the gush of her blood and soothing melody to its parched being. Yet it was not the correct choice. Its aim could not be rousing suspicion about itself. It would have to gain enough strength to have that girl.

And gods be damned if it ever let her escape ever again.

~•~