So this is where we are introduced to a character who was inspired by my best childhood friend. I absolute adore Eric, I always have and always will; after all he's the one person in the entire world who was actually there through not only my entire childhood and my entire rebelling stage but who is also still there for me today.

The Cop

The crime scenes were clean of everything but the strange mass of matter that had returned from the lab as human flesh. This fact alone sent shivers up everyone’s spine at the police department. No one had been spotted at any of the crime scenes either. Not a single clue to be found. No finger prints, no weapons, no foot prints, no hair, nothing. It was as if God had picked out the victims and taken them himself, because God couldn’t have left anything behind.

That was when they called me in. I am the top investigator in our department, and I have no idea why. Firstly, if anyone has any chance of getting in some form of legal trouble, it’s me. Secondly, if anyone has any chance of getting in some form of trouble at all, it’s me. Thirdly, if there is any hole, ditch, black hole of any kind, or anything someone can get lost in forever, then I’ll find it. You know, now that I review that list that’s probably why I’m so damn good at this job, if there is a murderer, rapist, serial killer, anti-Christ, or anything like them on the loose I’m going to end up right there face to face with them in some point of my life.

I must also be really good at reading people, because I knew I was going to get this job the second I saw the first news message. The very moment the headline ‘Strange Murder’ flashed onto the television I knew in at least a week I was going to be getting a knock on my door from my ex asking me to help the force just one last time.

And there it was, directly on my door, the three knocks I know far better than heart by now. The knocks that lead to the ‘come in please’ and the ‘thank you, are you busy’ and then the ‘yeah, my editor is waiting for this next book’ and then the ‘oh, so I guess you won’t be able to help’ which eventually lead to the guilt-trips which get me stuck in this mess, again. At least this time, like all the others, will be the final time. Besides, I lied about my editor, I haven’t written anything in a good four years now.

“So what is the story this time Eric?” I mumbled have mindedly as I sipped on he expensive coffee he had brought me, if nothing else this was worth these pointless visits.

I watched him sigh slightly as he sat down across from me at my tiny four person table, his fingers fumbling at his empty coffee mug; he didn’t like coffee so I refused to offer him any of this expensive stuff that would only last me a week as it was.

“Well…” He began, and I shuddered, knowing at this point that he wasn’t going to be turned away easily, not like I could ever turn him down with this coffee in my stomach anyway. I sipped slowly, my eyes intent on appearing to not be staring at him. “I, I mean we, down at the station would like your help again.”

He cleared his voice at that last word, and sat there motionless and oddly still watching for my reaction. I knew what he was looking for, so I closed my eyes slowly and pretended to comprehend, swallow, and digest his words. I knew exactly what he would say next, and the moment I counted to five he began to speak again.

“I know we’ve asked you to do this a lot in the past, but we really need your expertise yet again.” He sighed, and swallowed the air stuck in his throat finally, and I played out my role perfectly yet again. I nodded, swallowed, and finally sat straight in my chair before pushing my precious coffee just inches away from me. I felt his eyes light up as he saw my ‘I agree’ reaction, and I smiled mentally at myself for pulling off this act perfectly yet again.

“I agree to help you again…but you have to do something big in return for me.” This was when my life changed dramatically, and I felt his eyes darken at my reaction. This was different, in fact this wasn’t right. He was supposed to laugh, shrug, and offer me more coffee, to which I would think for a moment and nod contently. Instead he kept his eyes locked on my, and I moved my gaze up to meet his, the dread in his eyes instantly washing over me, stopping my heart for a moment.

“Felicia, you might not come back.” His voice was sober, completely serious and his voice never shock once, even though I saw the pain well up in his eyes and it all clicked into my head. He seriously thought this ‘mission’ was going to kill me. That this was going to be my last time to enjoy my rich coffee. That he had been forced to come here and talk to me, this he had proven in the name he called me. Only my parents and teachers called me Felicia.

“Oh God…” I felt the words well up in my throat, and I had to choke back a sob. I felt my vision blur and I felt my head nod unintentionally, if they had come to ‘me’ for this and still felt I wouldn’t come back alive… they must really need help, and I wasn’t going to abandon my best friend now.

I forced myself to nod, swallow a mouth full of scalding coffee which I didn’t even notice, and spoke softly, ignoring my scorched throat. “I’ll do it, and I’ll be fine, I swear it Eric. I’m always fine.” I shivered mentally at the doubt I heard in my own words.

He spent the night that night, we talked about the seriousness of the case, and he told me about the first scene and the marks that had been found on the others. I wasn’t stupid; the signs were too, far too, similar to be a bunch of different murderers. All the murder scenes were left with unrecognizable clumps of clothing, bone, and flesh. They looked like piles of human play dough.
There was also no blood, and not a trace of human anywhere besides the piles of remains.
Eric and I also spoke of less formal things, such as our childhood together and what had happened between the times we went off to college, I to law school he to study criminology and get into the force, and everything that happened since then till now. We even spoke about us, and what had gone wrong and why we were even friends anymore. We both agreed we were still friends because for some unimaginable reason I was attracted to ‘bad things’ on a level only God could control, and that he just happened to be the ultimate source of trouble. I agreed because he was the one always getting me to agree to do these stupid cases.

The next morning, he fell asleep on the floor on my living room while I fell asleep on my couch, we went down to the office. It was new one, one I hadn’t been before, and therefore by the time we got there I was completely lost. I didn’t even know if we were still in New York at this point, and I honestly didn’t care. All I knew was that I had to look deathly ill; because the second Eric got to my side of the car I saw his face turn pale and then everything went black.

When I came too later I learned that only an hour had passed, and that everything with me was fine. I had to keep back from laughing at this, knowing I was only days away from my death, and I sat silently through the meeting as they went through everything Eric had already told me about the case, only this time with pictures.

The pictures were horrid, and I didn’t need them to keep my imagination in line with this topic, in fact my mind would have kept up better without them, for before the meeting ever even ended everything was black again. This time only God knows how long it had been, for when I woke I was lying on my back in a bed; Eric’s bed. I knew his scent almost as well as I knew my own. I also noticed right away when a new scene caught my mind…smoke.

I sat slowly, ignoring the voice in my head telling me to take it slow before the entire world fell down around me before. I looked quickly around the room, catching myself on the head post of his bed before I slipped into unconsciousness again. There was someone in the room, and the smell was smoke. Something harsh was burning somewhere near me, and the cloudy air made it impossible to tell what.

That was when my dampened mind clicked, and I nearly bit through my bottom lip in disgust at myself. Smoke; the room was filled with smoke, only a horrid thick black smoke I had never seen before; and yet knew perfectly. I felt my heart drop, and had to hold back the reflex to empty my stomach as the stench made itself painfully clear in my nose. That was burning flesh.

I shock violently as the realization hit me, and I forced myself too quickly to my feet; feeling the room spin around me as I tore through the death cloud towards the bed room door. I fell against the door frame, my hand coming in contact with an oddly sticky liquid substance that had been splattered on various places throughout the hall. I ignored the burning as it grew stronger, and I ignored the instinct to turn, run, and hide, and moved closer to the intensity of heat.

There, in the middle of the living room of his tiny apartment lay, on the couch and in flames the form of a body I knew all too well. I felt myself scream, but heard nothing, the room spinning around me until I felt the thud of my limp body on the ground. Then the world was dead again.
My dreams only confirmed my fears that night, and even as the police were called, and the firemen broke into the apartment on fire, I spoke to God knowing exactly what had happened that night. Eric was dead.

He was born to a suburban family just outside of a normal North Texas city. He was born to a proud woman and a proud of her father. He was the child everyone in the city knew as ‘that child’, the one who could do anything he wished, and refused to even try. He was a talented little brown haired boy with the world in the palms of his hands, only he refused to hold on.
That was when she showed up in his life.

He was a gorgeous child; no other was to explain it. His eyes were bright with knowledge and desire; but his body and mind were gorged in fear. He was a frail tiny child, with perfect blend of hazelnut and vanilla in his skin; like a skim-milk filled coffee which only hinted at the flavor. His hair was naturally curly, and he hid it well by keeping it cut perfectly at all times; his hair was also a faded brown, too dark to be anywhere near blond but too blond to be anywhere near dark. His eyes were the brightest green, a color which squeezed envy out of the leaves around him.
It was around the age of seven that the event happened; the event that would shape the rest of his life. It was on a dark fall morning when they met, his and the girl to whom he would become like clay to. She could morph him into any shape and form she wished, and she would play with this power well into their adulthood.

She was beyond gorgeous, with eyes that stared into the soul; piercing into your subconscious and revealing your every breath of knowledge to her. These were deep blue orbs which captivated the attention of all who glanced her way; and kept them locked there. There was no way a child of only six could have the eyes of an extremely well lived older woman, yet there they were, staring into your soul whenever she caught sight of you. The eyes that made her appear almost too old. She knew too much, and as she grew older this would only be proven over and over again.

They met at the beginning of their childhood, and instantly he knew that she would be the commanding force in his life right under God. She was new to his school, 3 months into his second grade year; she was also a year younger than him and all the other students in her class. They met on the bus; she sat alone; everyone whispering about the new girl with the blue eyes. He was the daring one who walked right past his best friend to sit beside her. It was as if she had commanded him to without even looking, and he would never argue the fact.

They became friends like this, without speaking, without even knowing each other’s names, their lives simply intertwined together; he the commanded, she the commander. He never even heard her voice, not until their second year in this twisted relationship. They had class that year together, and she sat next to him. Half way through the year the oldest student, a boy by the name of Dean who stood at least as tall as the 5’ teacher but who weighed at least as much as the principle at 150 lbs, wouldn’t leave her alone one faithful morning.

The morning started out like any other, they waited silently together for the bus, sat silently together on the bus; him simply imagining their conversations together. They got to school, entered the class room, and sat silently together waiting for the day to start; that’s when Dean walked, stomped, tripped, over to where they were.

Dean had always had some bizarre fascination with getting Felicia to speak; after all only the teacher had ever heard her voice. He joked around that morning before they had arrived about what her voice possibly sounded like; he imagined it to sound like an old lady; the same way her eyes looked. The other students, besides Eric, agreed with him; but none of the others were daring enough to attempt to find out.

This morning, Dean did just that. Just as Felicia sat down in her proper spot he slipped into the chair next to her at the long table. His voice was rusty and high pitched, like an overweight woman who just couldn’t get in the right amount of breath.

“Tell me something, Felicia.” His words were heavy, laced with what would come next, and Eric watched cautiously, ready for the unspoken command telling him to get Dean away from her. There was nothing, she didn’t bat an eye, she didn’t move.

He waited a moment, hoping she would let a ‘what?’ slip, but it never came. The agitation was well hidden on his face, but his eyes screamed at her.

“How come you never speak?” His words were heavier now, and Eric had to hold himself back from pummeling the fat boy; Felicia hadn’t given the command, he couldn’t do anything but watch. She didn’t move; her eyes didn’t shift from their spot on the board in front of her.

Dean had to come up with something fast, the clock was ticking and the teacher would be in here any moment. He had only one chance to get this right, and he was going right in for the kill; with a rumor no one had even dared think about around here, a rumor Eric didn’t even know about.
“You know, people say it’s because you killed your parents.” His lips locked in a grin now, and his joy reached his mocking eyes as hers locked on his face from the corner of her eyes; her head only moving slightly, not even enough to see, towards him. She had reacted perfectly to this, and everyone saw it, Eric included, and he was now glaring at Dean; begging for the command.

“Oh? Did I hit a nerve, Felicia?” His voice was mocking now, heavy and mocking, and her lips twitched in a scowl, a strange noise deep in her voice, a noise Eric could hear, but the others ignored. He had never seen her ‘this’ angry, before.

“You know, I heard that right before the accident you told them you never wanted to see them again…” His voice was low now, as if he was only speaking to her, trying to break up the knowledge and pain in this memory. He pretended to ignore his audience, the entire third grade class watching them, Eric close to tearing his throat out, still begging; ‘Just say the word Felicia, please’.

Dean grinned wildly now, and the class buzzed in silent whisper; never before had any of them seen this kind of reaction from her, her eyes burned with rage, her clenched fist were held tightly in her lap, and her entire body screamed anger. He pushed his way up from his chair and pushed himself across from her to stare into her face, close enough to kiss her at this moment; their eyes locked together and he felt his heart skip a beat… she was doing something to him, but he wouldn’t stop now.

“Is that why you refuse to speak; because the sound of your voice reminds you of their screaming?” His mocking was sharp, until the final word, his voice cracked on ‘screaming’, as if it got caught in his voice, and her lips began to move, as if she was preparing herself to speak.
She stood slowly from her chair, Eric moving slightly until her eyes glared at him, and he sat back down silently. She stood straight up now, her height only around 4’6’’, not the shortest in the class but not the tallest. Her tiny body looked oddly strong at this moment, as if her tiny bones could withstand the force of a car crash even. She stared ahead for a moment, towards the on looking classmates; they went instantly silent at her stare, and she nodded slightly in thanks before locking her eyes on Dean; who stared fearfully up at her.

“My words…” Her voice was quiet at first, as if she struggled to speak; as if she was trying to keep some unseen force from following her words…the entire class got chilled, as if the air had just frozen around them. Every students’ eyes locked on her, every students’ breathing faltered, and everyone struggled to listen to her ever breath.

Her voice was beyond beautiful, and it did sound far older than her actual age. It rang with the maturity a 16 year old would have, but it also rang with the power an older adult would have. The authority was clear, and everyone felt strings pulling at their minds; they had to obey. They had no choice but to obey, and none of them even felt the desire to fight it; Eric listened, knowing they all felt the same he did now. It made him jealous that she would allow this.

“…my words have power.” Now her voice was louder, stronger, and Dean felt himself struggle to breath. She wasn’t letting him move, she wasn’t letting him move, she wasn’t even letting him think and every student in the class, besides Eric who kept his eyes on Felicia, could see this.
“What are you…?” His words struggled, and were cut off too quickly as her eyes narrowed and she nearly yelled at him.

“Don’t speak!” Her words were hard now, commanding, and he cut off without struggle, staring up at her in confusion, the fear still laced through his shivering body. Her eyes darted from him for a moment to give a pleading look to an empty corner in the far end of the room, she did this quickly, and before anyone noticed she was glaring back at Dean.

Eric felt the command in her voice, the power, and the control, as did everyone else, and no one dared speak, as if her words had been directed at everyone else as well.

“You have no right to speak of that which you do not know! You have no right to pretend to understand things besides your fragile, insignificant, audacious minds!” Her voice was hard, and even with the three large words none of the students could define the meaning was clear, beyond clear. They were not to speak, period, unless they knew the words to be true in every way possible.

Eric felt her power, and hated the fact that everyone else felt it too. He was supposed to be the only one, the only one who would jump if she said jump. He was supposed to be the one who she needed for this, and at the same time he was far more hurt about the fact her first words had been directed at Dean. She was supposed to speak to him, not that fat bastard. Yet, her voice calmed him; her smooth, perfect words left in his skin a sensation of pure ecstasy. It was the voice of an angel, no matter how fallen.

At that moment, with her still glaring down at Dean; who still couldn’t do anything but stare up at her, the teacher walked in. The moment was so fast that no one noticed it. One second the air was heavy with power, a power no one could help but bow down to. The very next second Felicia was sitting down in her chair with a face of innocence and the pressure was gone. Her face was once again the same blank face it always had been, and once again the pressure was only wrapped securely around Eric, who happily accepted this fact and more than happily rested back in his hair next to her; the safety blanket wrapped once again around only him.

The teacher gave a sharp look around the room to the standing students, who quickly dropped into their assigned seats; leaving Dean alone on the table in front of Felicia. Eric felt the command in his mind, the familiar taste of Felicia in his mind sending chills through his body; he was secure and everything was back to how it had been.

“Dean has been picking on Felicia all morning, Ma’am.” He spoke proudly, and he felt Felicia’s mental eye roll at his radiating pleasure.

The teacher stared sharply at Dean, and spoke the most simple, scariest words in the human language. “Is that so, Dean Brown? Go to the principal’s office now.” Her words were sharp, and Eric felt a ping of jealousy yet again as he felt his blanket stretch to include the teacher for a moment before snapping back around him; he clung mentally to it, like a child unable to share his toy. He grinned this time at the second mental eye roll he felt from Felicia.

Dean shuddered at the teacher’s voice, pushed himself up from the table, gave one last dread filled glace towards Felicia and headed, head down, out the door and down the hall way.
The moment he was gone the teacher closed the door, smiled at her students, and went on to teaching that day’s lesson. She locked eyes with Felicia for a moment, trying to understand that strange feeling that had come over her a few moments ago and had disappeared just as suddenly, and gave up just as quickly.


Now that everyone in her elementary class had heard her voice, and now that everyone knew what had happened to Dean when they did, people gave up on pestering her for it, and she was more open to speaking aloud with Eric. Their friendship grew, and stayed strong. It wasn’t long before Eric got the courage to ask her directly about what had happened that day in school. It was two years later, in their final year in Elementary school that he finally breached the question.

“Remember when you first spoke in class?” His voice was calm, he was careful to hold his emotion back, clearly aware that it did nothing to hide anything from her. Their mental connection was too close for that now, she knew everything he ever had felt, and everything he ever would feel.

They sat together at the edge of a river not far from her home. She lived with her mother’s best friend and her two older sons. She was a single mom, who had different boyfriends over every week. This week was a man Felicia actually really liked, he called her Flick; a name she actually found quite pleasing.

Eric wore nothing but a pair of torn jeans, his shirt left at back at her house, and she wore torn shorts and a tank-top. She still wasn’t starting to develop anything, and she hated the fact that Alice; her mom’s best friend; made her wear shirts to the river, but she didn’t complain; she knew that if she did she would get her way. Her shirt was a plain black one, with nothing fancy on it at all of any kind. She hated fancy stuff, especially at the river.

Both of them were slightly wet from playing in the water and trying to catch fish with their bare hands all day; and now they sat relaxing in the sun on the empty shore. This side of the river was bare and led into the street; which was their pathway back to her house.

“Dean.” It wasn’t a question, simply a word she muttered to herself to prove to him that yes, she did know what he was talking about and she did remember. Since that incident Dean hadn’t been in any of their classes. Her voice was still as angelic as the first time he heard it, even more so since now he didn’t have to work to have her speak and she did it of her free will with him more than anyone else.

He nodded slightly, and knew he didn’t have to say anything else for her to continue talking; she knew what he was thinking and knew what he was going to ask. In all reality she probably knew this even before he was sure he was going to bring it up at all.

“You want to know what happened, and why I can influence other people the same way I do you.” It was once again no question, she knew, she just wanted to hear him elaborate.
“Well, yeah. I mean, I thought that I was…different; that you simply had some kind of odd control over me caused by myself, not you. How did you do that, and it wasn’t like only Dean and I could feel it, everyone could feel it; but what was it?” He was very interested at this point, and completely absorbed in the conversation unfolding before him.

She took a moment to think, to form her words right, never before had she explained this to anyone. Never before had she tried, she just simply tried to accept it herself, she thought she was the only one who needed to understand.

“It’s…Pegasus.”