Chapter 2: The Whispering Sludge

Three hours later, the warehouse had been transformed into a circus of flashing lights and bustling activity. Magical forensics techs in hazmat suits moved around the crime scene like cautious dancers, their equipment humming with containment spells. Jade watched from the sidelines, nursing her fourth cup of coffee and trying to ignore the way Drew kept glancing at her.

"You know," he said, appearing at her elbow with that uncanny ability of his, "most people would be a little more shaken up after their first encounter with a reanimated corpse."

"Most people haven't seen the shit I've seen," Jade replied flatly. She nodded toward the specialized containment unit where the remains of Cornelius Blackthorne now resided—a cube of reinforced crystal humming with protective wards. "Besides, it's not my first reanimated anything."

Drew raised an eyebrow but didn't press. Smart man.

The lead forensics tech, a nervous elf named Silvanus who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, approached them with a tablet clutched in his pale hands. "Detectives? We've got the preliminary results."

"Let me guess," Jade said. "Weird magic, no conventional explanation, and a healthy dose of 'we've never seen anything like this before.'"

Silvanus blinked. "Actually... yes. How did you—never mind." He consulted his tablet with shaking fingers. "The victim's cellular structure has been completely reorganized but not destroyed. It's as if every molecule in his body was... rearranged. The magical signature is unlike anything in our database."

"What about the sigil?" Drew asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"Forbidden magic. Definitely pre-Accords, possibly pre-human settlement. We're running it through the restricted archives, but..." Silvanus shrugged helplessly. "It could take weeks."

Jade was about to respond when a sound made everyone in the warehouse freeze. From within the containment unit came a soft, rhythmic tapping—like fingers drumming against glass.

"That's impossible," Silvanus whispered. "The stasis field should prevent any—"

The tapping became more insistent, and then, impossibly, words began to form in the air above the containment unit. Not spoken words, but whispers that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"The market... sunken deep... she knows... the Weaver knows..."

Drew stepped forward, his hand moving instinctively toward the silver pendant in his coat. "Blackthorne? Can you hear us?"

"Drew...?" The whisper carried surprised recognition. "Little Drew Hemley... but you left... you left us all behind..."

Jade shot Drew a sharp look. "You knew him?"

"It's... complicated," Drew said, not meeting her eyes. "Cornelius, what happened to you? Who did this?"

"The formula... stolen... perverted... she promised immortality but gave only... only this..." The whispers were growing fainter, more fragmented. "Sunken Market... find Madam Vex... she trades in names... but beware... beware the silver threads..."

"Silver threads?" Jade pressed. "What silver threads?"

But the whispers faded to nothing, and the tapping stopped. The containment unit sat silent once more, its occupant finally at rest.

Silvanus was frantically taking notes, his stylus scratching across the tablet's surface. "Remarkable. The residual consciousness shouldn't have been able to maintain coherence for that long, especially after the spiritual trauma of—"

"Silvanus," Jade interrupted, her patience wearing thin. "The Sunken Market. What do you know about it?"

The elf's face went pale. "Detective Hawkins, surely you're not thinking of going there. It's not safe for... for anyone in law enforcement."

"That's not an answer."

"It's a black market," Drew said quietly, still staring at the containment unit. "Old Veridia, down in the flooded districts. Technically outside city jurisdiction, so the badges are just colorful accessories down there."

Jade studied his profile. There was something in his voice—familiarity mixed with distaste. "You've been there before."

"Once or twice. In my... previous life." Drew finally met her gaze, and for a moment the charm slipped away entirely. "If Blackthorne's pointing us there, it's because someone in the Market knows something about his death. But Jade, these aren't the kind of people who cooperate with police."

"Then we don't go as police," Jade said simply.

Before Drew could respond, Captain Morrison's voice boomed across the warehouse. "Hawkins! Hemley! My office. Now."

They made their way through the forensics equipment to where Morrison stood near the warehouse entrance, his weathered face grim. Captain Samuel Morrison was a bear of a man, human but tough as old leather, with the kind of scars that came from thirty years of keeping Veridia's supernatural community in line.

"Sir?" Drew said, slipping effortlessly back into his professional demeanor.

Morrison looked between them, his expression unreadable. "Just got word from headquarters. This isn't our first liquidated alchemist."

Jade felt something cold settle in her stomach. "How many?"

"Three others in the past two months. All master-level practitioners, all found in the same condition. The brass has been keeping it quiet to avoid panic." Morrison's scowl deepened. "Congratulations, detectives. You're officially hunting a serial killer."

"Why weren't we told about the other cases?" Drew asked.

"Because the previous investigating teams all requested transfers or medical leave after encountering the... remains." Morrison's gaze fixed on Jade. "Seems you two are the first to actually get useful information out of a victim."

"Lucky us," Jade muttered.

"The pattern suggests our killer is targeting specific individuals," Morrison continued. "All four victims were members of the Alchemical Guild, all worked with experimental formulae, and all had connections to Veridia's... let's call them 'alternative' magical communities."

"The Sunken Market," Drew said.

Morrison nodded grimly. "Among others. I'm authorizing you to pursue all leads, but Hawkins?" His eyes narrowed. "I know your reputation. You go in there like a bull in a china shop, and you'll end up as the next puddle on my crime scene photos."

"Understood, sir," Jade replied, though her tone suggested anything but compliance.

"And Hemley," Morrison added, "I don't care what connections you had in your old life. This is a murder investigation, not a social call. Keep your partner alive and bring me something I can arrest."

As they left the warehouse, Drew fell into step beside Jade, his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets. "So," he said casually, "how exactly do you plan to get information out of people who make a living from not talking to cops?"

Jade was quiet for a long moment, watching the early morning traffic begin to build on the streets above. The Sunken Market lay beneath the old city, in the districts that had been flooded during the Great Convergence fifty years ago. It was a place where the desperate, the dangerous, and the outcast gathered to trade in things that couldn't be bought in the legitimate world.

It was also the closest thing she'd had to a home before joining the force.

"Leave that to me," she said finally. "But Drew? If we're going down there, you need to understand something. In the Market, your charm and your pretty face won't get you anything but a knife in the back. Down there, respect is earned with blood and strength."

Drew's smile was sharp around the edges. "Good thing I've got you to watch my back then."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, sunshine," Jade replied, but there was less venom in it than before. "We're not partners. We're just two cops with the same case."

But even as she said it, she found herself thinking about the way Drew had stepped forward when the whispers started, the way he'd produced that pendant without hesitation, the way he'd known exactly what to do when faced with something that should have sent any sane person running.

Maybe Morrison was right. Maybe they did make a decent team.

The thought was almost as disturbing as the case itself.

As they reached Jade's patrol car, her phone buzzed with a text from the forensics lab. She glanced at it and felt her blood chill.

"What is it?" Drew asked, noting her expression.

"Silvanus just ran the preliminary analysis on the sigil." Jade showed him the screen. "It's not just forbidden magic. It's a binding seal—specifically designed to trap souls during the transformation process."

Drew was quiet for a moment, processing the implications. "So Blackthorne wasn't just killed. He was tortured. His consciousness was trapped inside that... thing."

"For two months," Jade confirmed grimly. "Along with the other three victims. Whoever's doing this isn't just committing murder. They're collecting something."

"Collecting what?"

Jade looked back at the warehouse, where the containment unit held all that remained of Cornelius Blackthorne. "I don't know. But I'm starting to think the Sunken Market is the only place we're going to find answers."

Drew nodded slowly. "Then that's where we go. But Jade? When we get down there, we watch each other's backs. Whatever game our killer is playing, it's bigger than just four dead alchemists."

For the first time since she'd met him, Jade found herself agreeing with Drew Hemley completely. The thought should have been reassuring.

Instead, it terrified her.