The Holy

Marson exited her old truck and dragged a thick suitcase through the dirt. There were many things in life she was prepared for, and catching the Face Slasher was number one on the list.

She committed to memory every detail of the case: the first happening, the first victim. She even knew what the deceased wore and their blood type.

“Runt, give me a hand, will you?” she called, breaking the stiffness in the air.

“Do you really need all of this? For fuck’s sake, Marson…”

Her neck snapped towards him, and her gaze sharpened in a way that had him waving a white flag with both hands in the air.

“I left a wonderful opportunity to investigate another suicide around Hembridge Lake for this… And I know what I’m doing,” she boasted, snatching Policeman Runt’s coffee for a sip. She immediately spat it out. “Trust me when I say shut up and do as I say.”

Policeman Runt pursed his lips awkwardly and nodded. There were only two people in this world who could talk to him like that, and they both happened to be women—his mother and his ex-wife, Marson.

“Oh, how lovely! Finally, a real man. Seal, grab those shovels from the van, will you?”

Seal’s enthusiasm brightened her mood, but nothing gave Marson more will to live than the Face Slasher case. Her marriage and reputation were on the line, and yet she still persisted. There was just something there that drew her in relentlessly, in the worst ways possible.

“When were the bodies moved?” Marson asked, scanning the scene. It was like any other graveyard.

“A couple of hours ago. The coroner couldn’t identify the bodies, but some high school kids were reported missing weeks ago… I snuck this report in case you’d like to see it.” Policeman Runt huffed proudly when Marson’s eyes widened, almost like she was impressed.

“You know… I’ve spent so much time chasing—”

“Runt! Runt!” Seal shouted, his large build almost crashing into the two. “Archbishop Raphael is here.”

“What!”

“What!”

The three cursed. It was a known fact that there was a discrepancy between the Archbishop of The Holy Church of Saint Raphael the Divine Redeemer and Eternal Protector of Souls and the Returned and the police. And Marson—

“I hid your truck, Miss Marson. You need to hide,” Seal gasped, pushing Marson into the trees.

She had no choice but to comply. The last time she saw the Archbishop, there was a lighter in her hand and his Holy Church was burning to the ground… It took him a month to completely restore everything, and her efforts were in vain, but she hindered him nonetheless.

But she knew one thing for sure. The key to Hembridge lay in that godforsaken man’s tomb. The Master of No Man’s Land.

“Ah, Mr. Runt, how lovely to gain your audience.”

Policeman Runt took a huge swig from his returned coffee and almost regretted it the moment Seal spoke.

“Your absolute Holiness,” Seal yelled and curtsied, shocking the murder of crows that lurked nearby.

“For fuck’s sake,” Policeman Runt grumbled, eyeing the smug look on the Archbishop’s face.

Of course, he knew.