Simon R. Green - Hawk and Fisher 3 - The God Killer

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PROLOGUE

They come and they go.

There are Beings on the Street of Gods. More and less than human, they inspire

worship and adoration, fear and awe, and dreams of endless power. No one knows

who or what the Beings are. They existed before men built the Street of Gods, and

will exist long after the Street is nothing more than rubble and memories. Some

say the Beings are distillations of specific realities; abstract concepts given shape

and form by human fears or wishes, or simply by the times themselves. Others

claim they are simply supernatural creatures, intrusions from other planes of

existence. No one knows. They are real and unreal, both and neither. They are

Beings of Power, and the Street of Gods is theirs and theirs alone.

They come and they go.

Chapter One

Killer on The Loose

Winter had come early to the city port of Haven, ushered in on blustering winds

full of sleet and snow and bitter cold. Thick blankets of snow lay heavily across

the roofs and city walls, and hoarfrost pearled the brickwork. Down in the street,

the first of the day's pedestrian traffic struggled through the muddy slush, slipping

and sliding and cursing each other through numb lips. The cold wind cut through

the thickest furs, and frostbite gnawed savagely at exposed flesh. Winter had

come to Haven, and honed its cutting edge on the slow-moving and the infirm.

It was early in the morning, the sun little more than a bloody promise on the

starless night. The street lamps glowed bravely against the dark, islands of amber

light in an endless gloom. Ruddy lanterns hung from horses and carts, bobbing

like live coals on the night. And trudging through the cold and dark came Hawk

and Fisher, husband and wife and Captains in the city Guard. Somewhere up

ahead in the narrow streets and alleyways of the Northside lay a dead man. It

wasn't clear yet why he was dead. Apparently the investigating Constables were

still trying to find some of the pieces.

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Murder was nothing new in the Northside. Every city has a dark and cruel side to

its nature, and Haven was no different. Haven was a dark city, the rotten apple of

the Low Kingdoms, but murder and corruption flourished openly in the Northside,

fueled by greed and hate and bitter need. People died there every day for reasons

of passion, desperation, or business. Nevertheless, this latest in a line of bloody

murders had shocked even the hardened Northsiders. So the Guard sent in Hawk

and Fisher. There wasn't much that could shock them.

Hawk was tall, dark, but no longer handsome. A series of old scars ran down the

right side of his face, and a black silk patch covered his right eye. He wore a long

furred jacket and trousers and a heavy black Guardsman's cloak. He didn't look

like much. He was lean and wiry rather than muscular, and he was beginning to

build a stomach. He wore his long dark hair swept back from his forehead and

tied with a silver clasp at the nape. He had only just turned thirty, but already

there were streaks of grey in his hair. It would have been easy to dismiss Hawk as

just another bravo, perhaps a little past his prime and going to seed, but there was

something about Hawk; something hard and unyielding and almost sinister.

People walked quietly around him, and were careful to keep their voices calm and

reasonable. On his right hip Hawk carried a short-handled axe instead of a sword.

He was very good with an axe. He'd had lots of practice in his five years as a

Guard.

Isobel Fisher walked at Hawk's side, echoing his pace and stance with the

naturalness of long companionship. She was tall, easily six feet in height, lithely

muscular, and her long blond hair fell to her waist in a single thick plait, weighted

at the tip with a polished steel ball. She was in her mid- to late-twenties, and

handsome rather than beautiful. There was a rawboned harshness to her face

which contrasted strongly with her deep blue eyes and generous mouth.

Somewhere in the past, something had scoured all the human weaknesses out of

her, and it showed. Like Hawk, she wore the Guard's standard uniform for winter,

with a sword at her left hip. Her hand rested comfortably on the pommel.

A thin mist hung about the street, though the weather wizards had been trying to

clear it for hours. The cold seeped relentlessly into Hawk's bones as he strode

along, and he stamped his boots hard into the slush to try and keep some warmth

in his feet. His hands were curled into fists inside his gloves, but it didn't seem to

be helping much. Hawk hated the cold, hated the way it leached all the warmth

and life out of him. And in particular, he hated being out in the cold and the dark

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at such an ungodly hour of the morning. But this shift paid the best, and he and

Fisher needed the money, so… Hawk shrugged irritably, trying to get his cloak to

fall more comfortably about him. He hated wearing a cloak; it always got in the

way during fights. But braving the winter cold without a cloak was about as

sensible as skinny-dipping in an alligator pool; you tended to lose important parts

of your anatomy. So Hawk wore his cloak, and moaned about it a lot. He

shrugged his shoulders again, and tugged surreptitiously at the cloak's hem.

"Leave that cloak alone," said Fisher, without looking at him. "It looks fine."

Hawk sniffed. "It doesn't feel right. The day's supposed to get warmer, anyway. If

the mists clear up, I think I might drop the cloak off somewhere and pick it up at

the end of the shift."

"You'll do no such thing. You know you get colds and flus easily, and I'm not

nursing you through another one of those. A couple of degrees of fever and you

think you're dying."

Hawk stared straight ahead, pretending he hadn't heard that. "Where is this body

we're supposed to look at, anyway?"

"Silver Street. Just down here, on the left. It sounded fairly gruesome. Do you

suppose it'll look like the others?"

"I hope so," said Hawk. "I'd hate to think there was more than one homicidal

maniac running around on our patch."

Fisher nodded glumly. "I hate maniacs. They don't play by the rules. Trying to

figure out their motives is enough to drive you crazy."

Hawk smiled slightly, but the smile didn't last long. If this corpse was as bad as

the others he'd seen, it wasn't going to be a pretty sight. A Guard Constable had

found the first body down by the Devil's Hook, hanging from a lamppost on a

rope made from its own intestines. The second body had been found scattered the

length of Hawthorne Alley. The killer had got inventive with the third victim, on

Lower Eel Street. The hands had been nailed to a wall. The head was found

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floating in a water butt. There was no trace of the body's genitals.

Hawk and Fisher turned into Silver Street, and found a crowd already gathered

despite the early hour. Nothing like a good murder to bring out a crowd. Hawk

wondered briefly what the hell all these people were doing out on the streets at

such an unearthly hour, but he knew better than to ask. They'd only lie. The

Northside never slept. There was always somebody ready to make a deal, and

someone else ready to cheat him.

Hawk and Fisher pushed their way through the crowd. Some of the sightseers

reacted angrily at being jostled out of the way, but quickly fell silent as they

recognized the two Guards. Everyone in the Northside knew Hawk and Fisher.

Hawk paused briefly at the thick line of blue chalk dust the Guard Doctor had laid

down to keep the crowd back, and then he took a deep breath and walked quickly

over it. The silver torc at his wrist, his badge of office, protected him from the

ward's magic, but the blue line always made him nervous. He'd once made the

mistake of crossing the line on a day he'd absent-mindedly left his torc at home,

and the agonizing muscle cramps had lasted the best part of an hour. Which was

why the crowd had pushed right up to the edge of the line but made no move to

cross it. Thus ensuring that the scene of the crime remained intact and the Guard

Doctor had room to work.

A Guard Constable was standing by, at a respectful distance from the body. His

dark red cloak and tunic looked almost garish against the winter snow. He nodded

affably to Hawk and Fisher. The Doctor was squatting in the bloodstained snow

beside the body, but rose to his feet to nod briefly to the two Captains. He was a

short, delicate man with pale face and eyes and large, clever hands. His official

cloak was too large for him and looked like a hand-me-down, but he had the

standard look of calm assurance that all doctors seem to be issued along with their

diplomas.

"I'm glad you're here, Captain Hawk, Captain Fisher. I'm Dr. Jaeger. I haven't had

much time with the body yet, but I can tell you this much: The killer didn't use a

weapon. He did all this with his bare hands."

Hawk looked at the body, and had to fight to keep his face impassive. The arms

had been torn out of their sockets. The torso had been ripped open from throat to

groin and the internal organs pulled out and strewn across the bloody snow. The

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legs had been broken repeatedly. Jagged splinters of bone pierced the tattered

skin. There was no sign of the head.

"Hell's teeth." Hawk tried to imagine how much sheer strength was needed to

destroy a body so completely, and a disturbing thought came to him. "Doctor, is

there any chance this could have been a nonhuman assailant? Werewolf, vampire,

ghoul?"

Jaeger shook his head firmly. "There's no evidence of blood drainage; you can see

for yourself how much there is around the body. There's no tooth or claw marks to

indicate a shapeshifter. And apart from the missing head, everything's here

somewhere. No evidence of feasting. No, Captain, the odds are this is your

standard homicidal maniac, with a very nasty disposition."

"Great," said Fisher. "Just great. How long before the forensic sorcerer gets here?"

Jaeger shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. He's been contacted, but you

know how he hates to be dragged from his nice warm bed at this hour of the

morning."

"All right," said Hawk. "We can't wait; the trail will get cold. We'd better use your

magic to get things started. Doctor. How much can you do?"

"Not a lot," Jaeger admitted. "When he finally gets here, the forensic sorcerer

might be able to recreate the entire killing and show us exactly what happened.

The best I can give you is a glimpse of the killer's face."

"That's more than we've got from the last three killings," said Hawk.

"We were lucky with this one," said Jaeger. "Death couldn't have taken place

more than half an hour ago. The chances of scrying the face are very good."

"Wait a minute," said Fisher. "I thought you needed the head for that, so you

could see the killer's face in the victim's eyes?"

Jaeger smiled condescendingly. "Medical sorcery has progressed far beyond those

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old superstitions, Captain Fisher." He knelt down beside the body again,

grimacing as the bloody slush stained his clothes, and bent over the torso. The

fingers of his left hand moved slowly in a complex pattern, and he muttered

something short and guttural under his breath. Blood gushed suddenly from the

neck of the torso, spilling out in a steady stream to form a wide pool. Jaeger

gestured abruptly, and the blood stopped flowing. Ripples spread slowly across

the pool, as though disturbed by something under the surface. Hawk and Fisher

watched, fascinated, as a face slowly formed in the blood. The features were

harsh, brooding, and quite distinct. Hawk and Fisher bent forward and studied the

face thoroughly, committing it to memory. The image suddenly disappeared, and

the blood was only blood again. Hawk and Fisher straightened up, and Jaeger got

to his feet again. Hawk nodded appreciatively to him.

"Anything else you can do for us?"

"Not really. From the pattern of the bloodstains, I don't think the victim had time

to struggle much. Which suggests that most if not all the mutilations took place

after death."

"Cause of death?" said Fisher.

Jaeger shrugged. "Take your pick. Any one of those injuries would have been

enough to kill him."

Hawk gestured for the Guard Constable to come over and join them. He was a

dark, heavy-set man in his mid-forties, with a twenty-year star on his uniform. He

had the calm, resigned look of the seasoned Guard who'd seen it all before and

hadn't been impressed then, either. He glanced briefly at the body as he came to

stand beside it, but nothing snowed in his face.

"Constable Roberts at your service. Captain Hawk, Captain Fisher."

"Who found the body?" said Hawk.

"Couple of kids coming back from a party. Merchant families. Took a shortcut

through the Northside on a dare, and found a bit more than they bargained for.

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They're in the house opposite with my partner, having a cup of tea. It's good for

shock, tea."

"They see anything, apart from the body?"

"Apparently not. Captain."

"We'd better have a word with them, anyway. See if you can move that crowd

along. The forensic sorcerer should be here soon, and he hates working in front of

an audience."

The Constable nodded, and Hawk and Fisher headed for the house he'd indicated,

stepping around the bloodstains where they could.

"You know," said Fisher quietly, "it's times like this I seriously think about

getting out of this job. You think you've seen every nasty sight and spectacle the

Northside can throw at you, and then something like this happens. How can one

human being do that to another?"

Hawk felt like shrugging, but didn't. It had been a serious question. "Drugs.

Passion. Possession. Maybe just plain crazy. There are all sorts in the Northside,

on their way up or on their way down. If a man's got any darkness in his soul, the

Northside will bring it out. Don't take it so personally, Isobel. We've seen worse.

Just concentrate on finding the clues that will help us nail the bastard."

The young couple who'd found the body were still in the house where they'd been

left, too shocked and disorientated even to think about making a fuss about

leaving. They were clearly merchant-class by their dress, lower-middle by the

look of them, and looked distinctly out of place in the dim smoky kitchen, being

fussed over by a motherly washerwoman. Another Guard Constable was sitting

comfortably by the fire, keeping an eye on them. He wore a ten-year star, but

looked like he'd spent most of those years indoors. He nodded pleasantly to Hawk

and Fisher, but made no move to get up. The merchant boy looked to be in his late

teens, the girl a year or two younger. Hawk drew up a chair opposite them, and

concentrated his questions on the boy. The girl was half asleep in her chair, worn

out by shock and emotional exhaustion.

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"I'm Captain Hawk, of the city Guard. This is my partner, Captain Fisher. What's

your name, lad?"

"Fairfax, sir. Calvin Fairfax."

"All right, Calvin, tell us about finding the body."

Fairfax swallowed once, and nodded stiffly. "We were walking down Wool

Street, Belinda and I, when we heard something. Footsteps, like someone running

away. Then Belinda saw spots of blood on the ground, leading into the next street.

She didn't want to get involved, but I thought we should at least take a look, in

case someone was injured and needed help. We walked a little way down the

street… and that's when we saw the body."

"Did you see anyone else in Silver Street?" said Fisher.

"No. There was no one else there. Belinda screamed, but no one came to help. A

few people looked out their windows at us, but they didn't want to get involved.

Finally the Guard Constables heard her, and came to see what was happening."

Fisher nodded understandingly. "What time was this?"

"About three o'clock. I heard the tower bell sound the hour not long before. The

Constables took over once they saw the body. We've been waiting here ever since.

Can we go now, please? We're very late. Our parents will be worried."

"In a while," said Hawk. "The forensic sorcerer will want to see you, when he

finally gets here, but after that you're free to go. You'll have to make a statement

for the Coroner's Court, but you can do that any time. And in future, stay out of

the Northside. This isn't a safe place to be walking about, especially early in the

morning."

"Don't worry," said Fairfax earnestly, "I never want to see this place again for the

rest of my life. We wouldn't have come this way anyway if Luther hadn't dared us

to walk past the Bode house."

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Hawk's ears pricked up. The Bode house. The name rang a faint but very definite

bell. "What's so special about the Bode house?"

Fairfax shrugged. "It's supposed to be haunted. People have seen things, heard

things. We thought it would be a lark." His mouth twisted sourly. "We thought it

would be fun…"

Hawk talked reassuringly with him for a while, and then he and Fisher left the

house and walked back down Silver Street. The cold morning air seemed even

harsher after the comfortable warmth of the kitchen.

"Bode house…" Hawk frowned thoughtfully. "I know that name from

somewhere."

"You should do," said Fisher. "It's been mentioned in our briefings for the past

three nights. There are some indications the place may be haunted. Neighbors

have complained of strange lights and sounds, and no one's seen the occupant for

days. Since Bode is an alchemist and a sorcerer, no one's taking it too seriously

yet, but there's no doubt it's got the neighbors rattled."

"Beats me how you can take in all that stuff," said Hawk. "It's all I can do to keep

my eyes open at the beginning of the shift. I don't really wake up till I've been on

the streets an hour."

"Don't think I haven't noticed," said Fisher.

"Where is this Bode house?"

"Just down the street and round the corner."

Hawk stopped and looked at her. "Coincidence?"

"Could be."

"I don't believe in coincidence. I think we'd better take a look, just to be sure."

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"Might be a good idea to have a word with Constable Roberts first," said Fisher.

"This is his particular territory; he might know something useful."

Hawk looked at her approvingly. "You're on the ball today, lass."

Fisher grinned. "One of us has to be."

As it turned out, Constable Roberts wasn't much help.

"Can't tell you anything definite about the house, Captains. I've heard a few

things, but there are always rumors with a sorcerer's house. Bode's a quiet enough

fellow; lives alone and keeps himself to himself. No one's seen him for a while,

but that's not unusual. He often goes off on journeys. Since no one's been actually

hurt or threatened, I've just let the place be. Bode wouldn't thank me for sticking

my nose into his business, and I'm not getting a sorcerer mad at me for no good

reason."

Hawk's mouth tightened, and for a moment he almost said something, but in the

end he let it go. Looking out for Number One was standard practice in Haven,

even amongst the Guard. Especially amongst the Guard. "Fair enough, Constable.

I think we'll take a look anyway. You stay here until the forensic sorcerer arrives.

And keep your eyes open. The killer could still be around here somewhere."

He got exact directions from Roberts, and then he and Fisher pushed their way

through the thinning crowd and set off down the street. It wasn't far. The

sorcerer's house was set on the end of a row of fairly well-preserved tenements.

Not too impressive, but not bad for the area. The window shutters were all firmly

closed, and there was no sign of any light. Hawk tried to feel any uneasy

atmosphere that might be hanging about the place, but either there wasn't one or

he was so cold by now he couldn't feel it. He took off his right glove and slipped

his hand inside his shirt. Hanging around his neck on a silver chain was a carved

bone amulet. Standard issue for all Guards, the amulet could detect the presence

of magic anywhere nearby. He held the amulet firmly in his hand, but the small

piece of bone was still and quiet. As far as it was concerned, there was no magic

at all in the vicinity. Which was unusual, to say the least. A sorcerer's house

should be crawling with defensive spells. He took his hand away and quickly

pulled his glove back on, flexing his numbed fingers to drive out the cold.

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Simon R. Green - Hawk and Fisher 3 - The God Killer

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