5Acknowledgements:
-I'd like to thank aquamoon22, Mafortion, and S. S. Dailey for your reviews. Thank you so much for your positive feedback!
Part 4- The Aria of Finality
Edward Timms had to fight to stay awake. There had been another murder this morning and since the man who generally took care of them was away, or dead or something, he had been asked to look into it.
He had asked his superiors where Evan had been the past two days, but they were as confused as he was. The murder itself was so confusing and nonsensical that absolutely no headway could be made. A body of a young man, burned everywhere except the face. Edward had spent the entire day trying to find something about the murder victim, but nobody cared or even knew anything. That man had been a nobody.
The stories that had been circulating about some woman dressed in white were even beginning to be met with doubt amongst the police force. These ridiculous tales all came from witness accounts and most of Scotland Yard was convinced she was simply a decoy to draw attention away from the true murderer.
The hard wood of the bench was uneven and ridiculously uncomfortable. Edward tried shifting his weight, but the other parts were even more uncomfortable. He muttered to himself something about having to patrol the streets. An indignant "Humpf!" escaped his dried lips. He had been on his feet all day and the sun had gone down about an hour ago. He deserved some sort of rest.
A bitter wind was picking up now, howling and screaming around the buildings, creating a hellish sounding chorus. If the Devil ever wished to wander the streets of London, this would be a perfect night, Edward thought to himself. All this bloody cold and wind. Why do I even have to stay out here? There's nothing happening and I'm freezing. I'm just going to go home, they can scream at me tomorrow, I don't care.
His stiff back cracking, he slowly was able to bring himself into an upright position. All his joints were spasming and screaming at him for doing something so cruel to them. One of them even spoke to him.
"Hello Edward."
Well that's a silly thing, he thought. I must be more tired than I thought when I start imagining that my joints are talking to me. It must be the wind or something.
"No Edward, I am not the wind." The voice continued with, Edward noticed, a bit of an Irish accent. "I have come to tell you something extremely important."
The fact that whatever it was that was talking could read his thoughts made Edward shiver. "Who's there?" he said raspily.
"It doesn't matter right now where I am. Just stand there and listen."
"Stand here? You must be joking. What with all the crazy folk about lately, standing here might just be the worst thing I could do right now. But I will listen. But don't get all bothered if I move around a bit."
Silence. The wind sounded like a wolf howling far off through thick fog.
"Evan Jameson is dead." The voice said, finally.
"What? Did you kill him? Where are you?! Show yourself!." Edward said, his legs twitching with fear. He might have to run at any minute now.
"He is dead." The voice said with such finality that Edward did not bother asking a second time.
"The woman in white does exist, but you must not try and catch her." The voice continued.
"Are you working for her?" Edward said quietly.
"Not at all. I am actually working against her. I shall pursue her myself. Do not involve the police as they will only die.
Horrifying reality descended on Edward. The tone of this voice was so cold and sharply sincere that what it said sounded as if he was listening to absolute truth. They will only die? The words reverberated around inside his head like a malevolent echo.
"I don't-go ahead. Go ahead and catch her. Don't speak to me again whoever you are." Edward said as he broke off into a run down the street. He did not care if he was running towards or away from the voice; he had to get away. The woman was real? What the bloody hell is happening to this city? He thought to himself. The cobbled streets were uneven and he tripped more than once, sometimes knocking over a stack of boxes or an abandoned kiosk, left by a bankrupt merchant. He did not even see the shape in front of him.
The person he hit was like a solid pillar of marble. Edward fell to the street with a gasp. The person spoke, to Edward's horror, with the voice he had heard.
"There is one more thing." The voice said solemnly. "You must promise not to investigate the death of Evan Jameson. He died willingly and without a struggle. There was no malice or murder. It was a suicide, caused by specters in his mind. He must be forgotten."
His eyes wide with terror, Edward finally blurted out, "Wh-who are you? I must know."
"I am nobody. You can call me Mitternacht if you choose, but that will not be my name tomorrow so it will do you no good to learn it." With that, the man simply vanished, eaten up by the darkness. Edward, heart pounding, got up off the ground. His knees were shaking so much that he could hardly stand.
Mitternacht, he thought. That's German for midnight. A lot of bloody good that does me, some Irish stranger giving me German words. I need to sleep. Edward Timms staggered home and fell into a shallow sleep, filled with hellish images and cryptic words.
Alek appeared out of the shadows beside Evan. "Did you tell them?" he said.
Evan replied with a slight grin, "I told them exactly what they needed to hear. The case is off their shoulders now so we can act without arousing suspicion."
Alek smiled, something he very rarely did. "Perfect. What did you say about what happened to you, just out of curiosity?"
Evan's face became grim, "I simply told them that I had died and that they should not try to investigate it."
Alek looked Evan in the eyes, a look of mischief sparkling in his face, "So you're dead, are you?" he made a show of looking Evan up and down. "That's too bad." He smiled again.
The two embraced as they headed off into the shadows.