[Fic] The Pentagram Sacrifices [Part 2]
| Masterpost | Part One | Part Three |
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“Final call for Cardiff Central,” the announcer stated. Merlin felt a sudden wave of homesickness as he headed out for the escalators. A part of him almost wanted to turn back and leave London with it's uncertainties all together.
London had always been different, half the time a strange land full of wonder during the times he came to visit his uncle. It had been a sharp contrast to the small village of Ealdor where he had grown up with it's long rolling hills and miles of small farms. Later, when he was older it had been the quickness of life, the frantic pace that made him feel anchor-less amongst the vast sea of people. The discordant sights and smells always took Merlin by heady surprise.
Cardiff, where he had lived since after uni was so much more different. Had been so different, he thought as he tried to get his bearings. Less hectic and less congested, the pace of everything seemed much slower in Cardiff. Perhaps it was because Cardiff had become his home after the seven years he had lived there. Maybe it had been because of the people, because of Will and Freya and the rest of his friends. Of the Welsh that he could hear in the background that used to remind him of Ealdor and his mum.
Maybe because he had never been a Londoner. He had really only been to the city the few times he had came to visit his uncle. And that one time he had gone through his initiation process to become a full warlock before the Druid Council. But he had always felt awkward, amidst the bustle of everything around him.
He wasn't sure how he let everyone convince him this was a good idea as he headed for the exit.
He had taken the 8 o'clock from Cardiff Central. Most of his belongings had been sent with the movers earlier in the week and currently stored at his uncle's awaiting his arrival. Having forgotten to eat breakfast in his rush to reach the train station, he had ordered food in the dining car in a desperate attempt to quell his hunger pains. The breakfast sandwich had been terrible, the eggs runny, the cheese overcooked. What he wouldn't do to have some of his Mum's breakfast fry-up right about now.
He clenched his coat tighter around him with numb fingers and pulled along his rather huge suitcase, his rucksack hitting his hip with awkward familiarity.
Perhaps, he mused as he stepped out of the entrance of Paddington Station and walked down the street, pulling his unwieldy gray suitcase behind him, maybe this time around things will be different. Or he was just being sentimental for having to leave after he had finally settled in Cardiff.
He hadn't wanted to leave Wales, especially since he had also gotten an offer for tenureship at Aberystwyth University. It would have been much closer to Ealdor as well. It wasn't that he hadn't been really away from Wales, having attended Oxford for uni. But London had never really been part of any of the plans he had. That had changed when he had gotten the fellowship with a generous stipend to do research while teaching early Welsh literature at City University.
The fellowship was for one year and it had taken convincing from all sides before Merlin finally agreed to accept and move to London.
Merlin hailed a cabbie, glancing down at his mobile noting the time. The train had arrived about twenty minutes earlier than the usual three or so hours it normally took. He wasn't sure if Uncle Gaius would be home and briefly wondered whether he should grab some takeaway before making it over to the flat.
As he reached to open the door, Lady Gaga's “Bad Romance” started blaring loudly. Ignoring the amused look the cabbie and some of the passersby were giving him, he handed off his suitcase to the cabbie to be placed in the boot of the cab, while Merlin juggled his belongings to answer his mobile.
“You bloody wanker,” Will's strong Welsh accent filled Merlin's ear as he listened to him grouse, “You could've woke me up so I could've taken you to the bloody train station.”
“I tried, but I would've had better luck reviving someone in a coma than you when you're pissed drunk off your arse.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“I wasn't the one who forced those last five shots of whiskey on you,” Merlin said as he tried to find a comfortable position in the backseat.
“Yeah, but it was your last day in Cardiff farewell party.”
“Which would make more sense if I had gotten more pissed than you since it was my party.”
He listened in amusement as Will stumbled around looking for his clothes, “You found the paracetamol?”
“Yeah, you know--thanks for that,” Will said despondently.
“I'm only three hours away.”
“That doesn't matter. How can you leave your best mate with an unknown stranger? Who’s going to take care of me if I get pissed drunk next time?” Will demanded. Merlin could hear him shuffling around their-his old flat, putting on the kettle and the clink of the toaster as Will switched it on.
“You were the one who thought this was a great opportunity for me. Go see the real world you said, as if London was some strange land.”
“It is,” Will grumbled.
He didn't think Will really realized that meant he would actually have to move from Cardiff to London until a couple of weeks ago. And that he might need to find another flatmate.
“What if he snores loudly or doesn't do the dishes and lets mold grow over everything.”
“He seemed like a decent bloke Will.”
“You could've commuted,” Will said instead, eating his toast noisily.
“Only if I didn't want a social life. And no don't answer that you wanker.”
Merlin grinned at Will's choked off retort of “But you don't!”
“And really? You changed your ringtone to Lady Gaga? ”
“Something to remember me by.”
They fall in a silence. Merlin listened to Will finish his toast as he stared out the window of the cab idly wondering if London had changed so much in just a few years or maybe it was just him.
“Bloody hell Emrys you know I'm gonna miss you,” Will finally said.
“I'm not going off to some war mate.” But Merlin understood the sentiment. Will and him had been thick as thieves since they had been five and close as brothers. Will had been the first to know about his magic outside of his immediate family. The first to punch a bully who had been harassing Merlin. The first to hold Merlin head over the toilet the first time he had gotten piss drunk. Merlin had been there when Will's Ma had died from a long battle with cancer. And when his first serious girlfriend had broken up with him, Merlin had been there to make sure Will didn't do anything crazy.
Even in uni they had been together. Will had somehow managed scrape good enough grades to follow him to Oxford of all places.
“Well there will be space on the couch always open for you.” Merlin added after a beat.
“Thanks mate. Anyways, I promised I would show up to work for at least the afternoon so I've gotta run.”
“Yeah, talk to you soon.”
Not even a second after ending his phone call with Will, Merlin’s mobile rang again.
“Uncle Gaius,” Merlin said as he tilted his mobile closer to his ear.
Gaius as Merlin knew him, his much beloved uncle and only sibling of his mum’s, was better known to everyone else as the formidable Chief Inspector in charge of the CID for East London (and unofficially the rest of London as well or at least that had been the rumor).
“Are you here in London yet? Do you need me to come pick you up at the station?”
“No, it's fine. I'm actually not too far from your flat. Do you want me to grab some takeaway?”
“No need, I'm working from the flat this afternoon and grabbed some curry on the way home.”
“Sounds good,” Merlin said suddenly feeling very hungry, the breakfast sandwich and the weak tea early this morning were a long distant memory.
There was a hesitant pause, which made Merlin curious as he listened waiting for Gaius to continue. His uncle was rarely hesitant with anything.
“I believe I have something of a favor to ask you Merlin,” Gaius started before pausing again.
"A favor," Merlin asked, intrigued.
"But perhaps it's better if I tell you more about it once you get here.”
:::::
Three days later Leon walked into the familiar sight of Arthur poring over the various files from the case. He surveyed the mess: the trash full of empty takeaway cartons, papers scattered in piles around Arthur’s desk, empty mugs with teabags glued to the bottom, the whiteboard covered in notes.
“When was the last time you went home?” Leon asked in lieu of a greeting.
Arthur shrugged as he finished jotting down something.
“You've been on this case for the past three days and I know from experience that couch isn't comfortable.”
“There's got to be a connection, right?” Arthur asked instead, rubbing a hand wearily across his face, “The markings and pentagrams couldn't have been a coincidence. And the bodies were definitely arranged the same way.”
“I'll go through the evidence again to check. But seriously Arthur, you need to go home and get some sleep. Have you seen yourself in the mirror recently?”
Arthur knew he looked worse for wear. His tie was crumpled somewhere on the floor, his shirt was beyond ironing by now. He was sure he had circles under his eyes and he had switched to drinking foul-tasting coffee.
“I will. It’s just these bloody markings. I can’t make head nor tail of them. I’ve looked on the internet. I even called up some of the local scholars and the most I got were vague answers.”
“Arthur,” Leon said mildly.
“Fine, I know Gaius is working on it. But time is running out and we don’t know when the next killing might be.”
“We’ll get them.”
Arthur glanced away, hands running through his hair frustatedly.
Glancing through the file in front of him, he asked instead, “Have you been able to reach the victim's parents yet?”
“Yes and the parents said they had talked to their son about a week ago. But there was nothing out of the ordinary. The sergeant in charge said if we have any more questions to forward it to their office.”
“Were there any connections between the two vics or any connection between the two families?”
“Nothing that came up. The girl was a second year student at King’s College and was living with her aunt near Islington. Her parents live in Manchester and she would go home during the summers. The lad's from Ayr up in Scotland, working at a law firm in Brent for the past three years. We haven’t been able to reach his flatmate yet but they live in Chelsea which is why the he was found there. And Owain is seeing to interviewing their friends, maybe there might be some overlap.”
“Right,” Arthur replied sighing. “I'm starting to think that both vics were randomly chosen if both cases are somehow related.”
“I agree, but I'll see if I can find any similarity between the two victims by cross referencing their friends just to be sure.”
“That's good,” Arthur replied, yawning as he took another sip of the tepid coffee.
“You seriously should get some sleep,” Leon repeated, “at the rate you're going, you're going to burn yourself out.”
“Morganna’s definitely rubbing off on you,” Arthur grumbled, “you’ve started mother henning more than she does.”
“Fine. I’ll stop nit-picking. So what have you got so far?”
“Not much. There is no connection between the vics. If I can just figure out why the killer picked them or at least where the killer is going to strike next...” Arthur trailed off, yawning.
“You won't be any help to us if you can't even see straight much less hold a gun steady to capture him.”
Arthur scowled, “I thought you said you would stop nitpicking,” But before Leon could reply, “Fine. I’ll go if it makes you feel better.”
Getting up, he picked up several of the files, ignoring Leon's “It's still work if you're taking it home with you.”
But before he can really head out of his office, one of the sergeants, Percival Hathaway stopped them, “Sir, the Chief wanted me to let you know that he found someone who can help with the symbols and altars.”
“A profiler?” Arthur asked as he shifted the folders to his other arm, handing off several to the Lamorak, the IT guy to go through the victims phone messages.
“He said a professor I believe, from City University. He didn’t say much beyond that they found someone and they should be coming in tomorrow, sir.”
Arthur frowned at him, “An academic?”
“An Arthurian scholar according to the Chief,” Percy replied his lips twitching.
Leon glanced amusedly at Arthur.
“An Arthurian scholar,” Arthur echoed. The lads were going to have a field day with that. He could hear the comments now and he mentally winced as he thought about the innuendos Gwaine was most likely going to throw his way. If he was lucky, the Irish DI will be distracted by work.
“Yes, sir.”
Arthur stopped at the elevator turning to the two men, “If you could do me a favor Perce,” he starts.
“Sir.”
“Could you possibly not tell Gwaine about this?”
“Of what, sir?” Percy asked, his face carefully blank.
“He already knows doesn’t he.” Arthur said already knowing the answer.
“He may have overheard the Chief telling Commissioner Kilgharrah, sir.”
Leon patted Arthur’s shoulder but based on the grin, Arthur knew he was just as amused as Percy. Gwaine had been Arthur’s sergeant, his first in fact and Arthur had been Gwaine’s last DI before he had been promoted. While they were around the same age, Gwaine had been late to join the force and Arthur had moved up rapidly in the ranks despite his age.
They had met for the first at a bar that had resulted in rather drunken shag. It had come rather as a shock when they both were introduced to each other by Chief Inspector Davies as DI and DS respectively. Shock might have been an understatement, but while the shagging never happened again, drunk or otherwise, they had gotten along well. And over the years, Arthur had considered Gwaine to be a close mate much like Leon. But working with Gwaine was trying, especially since it came with a heavy dose of teasing.
“Of course he did.” Arthur replied with resignation, knowing that until this case was solved was he would have to deal with a whole lot of teasing and not just from Gwaine in the foreseeable future.
“I hope this consultant is worth it,” Arthur added frowning.
“If he can just translate the markings we can figure out the rest,” Leon said.
Arthur wondered whether that was too much to hope for, that they would be able to actually find someone who could make sense of this puzzle.
| Masterpost | Part One | Part Three |
:::::
“Final call for Cardiff Central,” the announcer stated. Merlin felt a sudden wave of homesickness as he headed out for the escalators. A part of him almost wanted to turn back and leave London with it's uncertainties all together.
London had always been different, half the time a strange land full of wonder during the times he came to visit his uncle. It had been a sharp contrast to the small village of Ealdor where he had grown up with it's long rolling hills and miles of small farms. Later, when he was older it had been the quickness of life, the frantic pace that made him feel anchor-less amongst the vast sea of people. The discordant sights and smells always took Merlin by heady surprise.
Cardiff, where he had lived since after uni was so much more different. Had been so different, he thought as he tried to get his bearings. Less hectic and less congested, the pace of everything seemed much slower in Cardiff. Perhaps it was because Cardiff had become his home after the seven years he had lived there. Maybe it had been because of the people, because of Will and Freya and the rest of his friends. Of the Welsh that he could hear in the background that used to remind him of Ealdor and his mum.
Maybe because he had never been a Londoner. He had really only been to the city the few times he had came to visit his uncle. And that one time he had gone through his initiation process to become a full warlock before the Druid Council. But he had always felt awkward, amidst the bustle of everything around him.
He wasn't sure how he let everyone convince him this was a good idea as he headed for the exit.
He had taken the 8 o'clock from Cardiff Central. Most of his belongings had been sent with the movers earlier in the week and currently stored at his uncle's awaiting his arrival. Having forgotten to eat breakfast in his rush to reach the train station, he had ordered food in the dining car in a desperate attempt to quell his hunger pains. The breakfast sandwich had been terrible, the eggs runny, the cheese overcooked. What he wouldn't do to have some of his Mum's breakfast fry-up right about now.
He clenched his coat tighter around him with numb fingers and pulled along his rather huge suitcase, his rucksack hitting his hip with awkward familiarity.
Perhaps, he mused as he stepped out of the entrance of Paddington Station and walked down the street, pulling his unwieldy gray suitcase behind him, maybe this time around things will be different. Or he was just being sentimental for having to leave after he had finally settled in Cardiff.
He hadn't wanted to leave Wales, especially since he had also gotten an offer for tenureship at Aberystwyth University. It would have been much closer to Ealdor as well. It wasn't that he hadn't been really away from Wales, having attended Oxford for uni. But London had never really been part of any of the plans he had. That had changed when he had gotten the fellowship with a generous stipend to do research while teaching early Welsh literature at City University.
The fellowship was for one year and it had taken convincing from all sides before Merlin finally agreed to accept and move to London.
Merlin hailed a cabbie, glancing down at his mobile noting the time. The train had arrived about twenty minutes earlier than the usual three or so hours it normally took. He wasn't sure if Uncle Gaius would be home and briefly wondered whether he should grab some takeaway before making it over to the flat.
As he reached to open the door, Lady Gaga's “Bad Romance” started blaring loudly. Ignoring the amused look the cabbie and some of the passersby were giving him, he handed off his suitcase to the cabbie to be placed in the boot of the cab, while Merlin juggled his belongings to answer his mobile.
“You bloody wanker,” Will's strong Welsh accent filled Merlin's ear as he listened to him grouse, “You could've woke me up so I could've taken you to the bloody train station.”
“I tried, but I would've had better luck reviving someone in a coma than you when you're pissed drunk off your arse.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“I wasn't the one who forced those last five shots of whiskey on you,” Merlin said as he tried to find a comfortable position in the backseat.
“Yeah, but it was your last day in Cardiff farewell party.”
“Which would make more sense if I had gotten more pissed than you since it was my party.”
He listened in amusement as Will stumbled around looking for his clothes, “You found the paracetamol?”
“Yeah, you know--thanks for that,” Will said despondently.
“I'm only three hours away.”
“That doesn't matter. How can you leave your best mate with an unknown stranger? Who’s going to take care of me if I get pissed drunk next time?” Will demanded. Merlin could hear him shuffling around their-his old flat, putting on the kettle and the clink of the toaster as Will switched it on.
“You were the one who thought this was a great opportunity for me. Go see the real world you said, as if London was some strange land.”
“It is,” Will grumbled.
He didn't think Will really realized that meant he would actually have to move from Cardiff to London until a couple of weeks ago. And that he might need to find another flatmate.
“What if he snores loudly or doesn't do the dishes and lets mold grow over everything.”
“He seemed like a decent bloke Will.”
“You could've commuted,” Will said instead, eating his toast noisily.
“Only if I didn't want a social life. And no don't answer that you wanker.”
Merlin grinned at Will's choked off retort of “But you don't!”
“And really? You changed your ringtone to Lady Gaga? ”
“Something to remember me by.”
They fall in a silence. Merlin listened to Will finish his toast as he stared out the window of the cab idly wondering if London had changed so much in just a few years or maybe it was just him.
“Bloody hell Emrys you know I'm gonna miss you,” Will finally said.
“I'm not going off to some war mate.” But Merlin understood the sentiment. Will and him had been thick as thieves since they had been five and close as brothers. Will had been the first to know about his magic outside of his immediate family. The first to punch a bully who had been harassing Merlin. The first to hold Merlin head over the toilet the first time he had gotten piss drunk. Merlin had been there when Will's Ma had died from a long battle with cancer. And when his first serious girlfriend had broken up with him, Merlin had been there to make sure Will didn't do anything crazy.
Even in uni they had been together. Will had somehow managed scrape good enough grades to follow him to Oxford of all places.
“Well there will be space on the couch always open for you.” Merlin added after a beat.
“Thanks mate. Anyways, I promised I would show up to work for at least the afternoon so I've gotta run.”
“Yeah, talk to you soon.”
Not even a second after ending his phone call with Will, Merlin’s mobile rang again.
“Uncle Gaius,” Merlin said as he tilted his mobile closer to his ear.
Gaius as Merlin knew him, his much beloved uncle and only sibling of his mum’s, was better known to everyone else as the formidable Chief Inspector in charge of the CID for East London (and unofficially the rest of London as well or at least that had been the rumor).
“Are you here in London yet? Do you need me to come pick you up at the station?”
“No, it's fine. I'm actually not too far from your flat. Do you want me to grab some takeaway?”
“No need, I'm working from the flat this afternoon and grabbed some curry on the way home.”
“Sounds good,” Merlin said suddenly feeling very hungry, the breakfast sandwich and the weak tea early this morning were a long distant memory.
There was a hesitant pause, which made Merlin curious as he listened waiting for Gaius to continue. His uncle was rarely hesitant with anything.
“I believe I have something of a favor to ask you Merlin,” Gaius started before pausing again.
"A favor," Merlin asked, intrigued.
"But perhaps it's better if I tell you more about it once you get here.”
:::::
Three days later Leon walked into the familiar sight of Arthur poring over the various files from the case. He surveyed the mess: the trash full of empty takeaway cartons, papers scattered in piles around Arthur’s desk, empty mugs with teabags glued to the bottom, the whiteboard covered in notes.
“When was the last time you went home?” Leon asked in lieu of a greeting.
Arthur shrugged as he finished jotting down something.
“You've been on this case for the past three days and I know from experience that couch isn't comfortable.”
“There's got to be a connection, right?” Arthur asked instead, rubbing a hand wearily across his face, “The markings and pentagrams couldn't have been a coincidence. And the bodies were definitely arranged the same way.”
“I'll go through the evidence again to check. But seriously Arthur, you need to go home and get some sleep. Have you seen yourself in the mirror recently?”
Arthur knew he looked worse for wear. His tie was crumpled somewhere on the floor, his shirt was beyond ironing by now. He was sure he had circles under his eyes and he had switched to drinking foul-tasting coffee.
“I will. It’s just these bloody markings. I can’t make head nor tail of them. I’ve looked on the internet. I even called up some of the local scholars and the most I got were vague answers.”
“Arthur,” Leon said mildly.
“Fine, I know Gaius is working on it. But time is running out and we don’t know when the next killing might be.”
“We’ll get them.”
Arthur glanced away, hands running through his hair frustatedly.
Glancing through the file in front of him, he asked instead, “Have you been able to reach the victim's parents yet?”
“Yes and the parents said they had talked to their son about a week ago. But there was nothing out of the ordinary. The sergeant in charge said if we have any more questions to forward it to their office.”
“Were there any connections between the two vics or any connection between the two families?”
“Nothing that came up. The girl was a second year student at King’s College and was living with her aunt near Islington. Her parents live in Manchester and she would go home during the summers. The lad's from Ayr up in Scotland, working at a law firm in Brent for the past three years. We haven’t been able to reach his flatmate yet but they live in Chelsea which is why the he was found there. And Owain is seeing to interviewing their friends, maybe there might be some overlap.”
“Right,” Arthur replied sighing. “I'm starting to think that both vics were randomly chosen if both cases are somehow related.”
“I agree, but I'll see if I can find any similarity between the two victims by cross referencing their friends just to be sure.”
“That's good,” Arthur replied, yawning as he took another sip of the tepid coffee.
“You seriously should get some sleep,” Leon repeated, “at the rate you're going, you're going to burn yourself out.”
“Morganna’s definitely rubbing off on you,” Arthur grumbled, “you’ve started mother henning more than she does.”
“Fine. I’ll stop nit-picking. So what have you got so far?”
“Not much. There is no connection between the vics. If I can just figure out why the killer picked them or at least where the killer is going to strike next...” Arthur trailed off, yawning.
“You won't be any help to us if you can't even see straight much less hold a gun steady to capture him.”
Arthur scowled, “I thought you said you would stop nitpicking,” But before Leon could reply, “Fine. I’ll go if it makes you feel better.”
Getting up, he picked up several of the files, ignoring Leon's “It's still work if you're taking it home with you.”
But before he can really head out of his office, one of the sergeants, Percival Hathaway stopped them, “Sir, the Chief wanted me to let you know that he found someone who can help with the symbols and altars.”
“A profiler?” Arthur asked as he shifted the folders to his other arm, handing off several to the Lamorak, the IT guy to go through the victims phone messages.
“He said a professor I believe, from City University. He didn’t say much beyond that they found someone and they should be coming in tomorrow, sir.”
Arthur frowned at him, “An academic?”
“An Arthurian scholar according to the Chief,” Percy replied his lips twitching.
Leon glanced amusedly at Arthur.
“An Arthurian scholar,” Arthur echoed. The lads were going to have a field day with that. He could hear the comments now and he mentally winced as he thought about the innuendos Gwaine was most likely going to throw his way. If he was lucky, the Irish DI will be distracted by work.
“Yes, sir.”
Arthur stopped at the elevator turning to the two men, “If you could do me a favor Perce,” he starts.
“Sir.”
“Could you possibly not tell Gwaine about this?”
“Of what, sir?” Percy asked, his face carefully blank.
“He already knows doesn’t he.” Arthur said already knowing the answer.
“He may have overheard the Chief telling Commissioner Kilgharrah, sir.”
Leon patted Arthur’s shoulder but based on the grin, Arthur knew he was just as amused as Percy. Gwaine had been Arthur’s sergeant, his first in fact and Arthur had been Gwaine’s last DI before he had been promoted. While they were around the same age, Gwaine had been late to join the force and Arthur had moved up rapidly in the ranks despite his age.
They had met for the first at a bar that had resulted in rather drunken shag. It had come rather as a shock when they both were introduced to each other by Chief Inspector Davies as DI and DS respectively. Shock might have been an understatement, but while the shagging never happened again, drunk or otherwise, they had gotten along well. And over the years, Arthur had considered Gwaine to be a close mate much like Leon. But working with Gwaine was trying, especially since it came with a heavy dose of teasing.
“Of course he did.” Arthur replied with resignation, knowing that until this case was solved was he would have to deal with a whole lot of teasing and not just from Gwaine in the foreseeable future.
“I hope this consultant is worth it,” Arthur added frowning.
“If he can just translate the markings we can figure out the rest,” Leon said.
Arthur wondered whether that was too much to hope for, that they would be able to actually find someone who could make sense of this puzzle.
| Masterpost | Part One | Part Three |