Eldritch Exorcist

Rey sat in his favorite chair, his unfocused gaze glued to the turned-off TV. Even though what was in front of his eyes was just a blank screen, inside his mind, scenes as if from a supernatural drama were playing: the mutated teenager taking shots from his shotgun only to clad himself in lightning and rush at a man who could bend reality to his will. A strange man in a wheelchair, reading the past of a place as if from a book, by simply coming into contact with it.

The scenes played in his mind on repeat, their speed dictating the rhythm of the whiskey's swirl in his glass; the slight coolness to the touch was all that remained of the ice cubes inside.

“Honey,” came his wife’s voice, and, as so many times in recent days, it didn’t manage to disturb him. His consciousness was still in the strange new world he found himself in.

The woman sighed, knowing there was no point in screaming, and just approached him, lightly touching his shoulder. Rey jumped but then relaxed, seeing the woman’s concerned face.

“What is it?” she asked, straight to the point.

“Nothing, just the new assignment,” he lied.

She met his eyes with raised eyebrows. “Hon, you couldn’t even lie to me in high school. What is it really?”

“I—” He looked for the right words to say. Ones that wouldn't drag her into the same strange world. “I’m not sure about taking the new case. I promised you I would wind down after we sent the kids to college, and move into a behind-the-desk part of the job.” He then took her hand in his. “Spend more time with you.”

“That was four years ago, and you’ve had a few cases since. But you never looked like this,” she pressed on.

“Am I the detective or are you?” Rey joked, and she smiled in return, but still waited for a serious answer.

“I—” Rey sighed deeply. “I think this one can be dangerous, really dangerous.”

“Then don’t take it.”

“Well—”

“Look, I can see there’s something important about this one. I don’t want you to do something dangerous, but I don’t want you to regret it either. Just—help me understand why you’re considering something dangerous enough to have the star detective forget his favorite whiskey.”

Rey hesitated for a few seconds. He would love to tell her everything, but he wasn’t that stupid.

“Do you remember the case that gave me the detective’s badge?”

“The trafficking one?” she asked, to which he nodded.

“Right. Well, I didn’t get the badge just because of that. There was politics. When it turned out that higher-ups and even the police were involved, everything changed. The case practically gave the governor his position—it was his poster case, and I was his poster man. And you need to reward your hero, so the badge, the raise, and all of this. And once it was done, there was this divide—the ‘in’ crowd, the new governor’s people, and the ‘out’ crowd. The ‘in’ crowd got all the best positions. But before that, when the suspect was in custody but hadn’t yet testified, there was this tension. We all knew some of us were involved, and we all looked at each other like wild beasts, as if someone would stab you at any second.”

He paused, trying to think of a description for what to him was purely instinctual. “Right now it’s—it’s like there is the same tension in the air, but everywhere, and I feel like we need to be in the ‘in’ crowd. It’s so important to be part of the ‘in’ crowd this time, but I’m not sure who that is. Well—” The image of the strange man came to mind. “I have an idea, and I think it’s dangerous.”

She remained silent for a while before speaking. “If you believe it’s that important, then I’ll support you. Go get them,” she added with a smile.

The next day, Rey gave Filip a call, agreeing to be the young man’s helper—basically helping them at all crime scenes and with the investigation. The next few days were spent obtaining all the clearances and documentation he needed to work with the FBI. But finally, Rey was informed that there would be a proper first meeting with more details.

He went to the FBI headquarters and met Filip and Josh. After greeting them, he was led inside and finally into a hall where a group of people were sitting, all in suits, serious and important-looking. Rey also noticed he didn’t recognize anyone.

After a short briefing, he found out that all the policemen were working as ‘boots on the ground’—meaning menial labor to keep them out of the way. Not the first time he saw something like that.

Finally, the head man himself, the same man who gave the speech last time, walked to the front and gave them a summary of the initial part of the investigation, which boiled down to “we know nothing,” aside from the killing method. But one thing bothered Rey in all of this. He couldn’t understand how there was even a case. There was no evidence, no DNA, no security footage, no witnesses, nothing. All they had were multiple crimes all over the country with the same killing method, but how anyone connected the dots was beyond him. His gaze drifted to Josh, but at the same time, the summary of the last crime scene made it clear that they didn't include the kid’s visions in the information.

“Since we don’t have any video footage or witnesses, we will go with profiling first. So what can you tell me about the UNSUB?”

As he asked that question, some hands shot up, and the man finally pointed to a young woman in the front.

“Statistically, this offender is more likely male, likely adult, and physically capable of prolonged assault. And if we, ummm—still assume that this was all done by one person, he would need to be an extremely good fighter, most likely with a martial-arts or military background.” She finished, uncertain of the last part.

“Let’s leave the how out of it for now. We suspect there might be an organized team, but judging by the consistency of the wounds and angle of entry, this should be the same person—at least, the one dealing the killing blows. Now, what can you tell me about his habits, who he is? I want to know his favorite food, his job, his hobbies, what he does on weekends, and most of all… why is he doing what he does?”

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This time around, there was silence. People looked at one another in confusion. Finally, the man leading the meeting spoke up.

“Let me help you. I’ve been working on the profile. And you will work with me to refine it,” he said with pride clear in his voice.

Rey could see Filip roll his eyes.

“We’re likely looking at a mission-oriented UNSUB who targets individuals he defines as bad or deserving. Victims are criminally involved, and the cause of death is personal, close-contact violence, suggesting the UNSUB needs to feel the act and control the outcome. Expect the UNSUB to use justifying language—‘cleaning up,’ ‘doing what the system won’t,’ ‘making them pay.’”

As the man spoke, Rey saw a frown growing on Filip's face. It all sounded good and wise to Rey, but Filip seemed to be more and more dissatisfied.

“This type of offender often shows black-and-white thinking and a rigid personal code. The violence indicates power and control as a psychological driver. Even if he frames it as ‘justice,’ the choice of weapon suggests he wants dominance and personal involvement, not distance. The UNSUB may present as controlled and competent in daily life—someone who believes he’s rational—while expressing contained anger toward a specific ‘type’ of person. He likely sees himself as the exception: rules apply to everyone else, but not to him, because his ‘cause’ is righteous. He may have experience that normalizes violence or physical confrontation: security work, military exposure, or combat sports. These offenders often escalate after a trigger: a perceived failure of the justice system, a personal loss, or an event that renews old resentment. The offender may have a history of being victimized, or he may strongly identify with someone who was—”

“Why hasn’t he contacted the police or media yet?” Filip interrupted once the creases in his forehead couldn’t go any deeper.

The front man frowned, clearly angered by the interruption, but after seeing who it was, he just sighed.

“Maybe he’s still waiting to do that.”

“UNSUBs with vigilante complexes always contact the media or leave some sort of manifesto. The kills are also much more personal. Here it’s way too clean. And the first case is from, what, four weeks ago? He had plenty of time for a manifesto at least.”

“Maybe his emotions are still boiling, waiting to explode.”

“What emotions?” Filip countered. “Yes, the weapon is most likely personal, but the use is not emotional. One clean hit to the back of the head—that’s the opposite of emotion. He doesn’t even pose the bodies. There is nothing. He has control over his victims, but he doesn’t use it—just mows them down. If he kills to satisfy emotional anger, then why is the type of victim not consistent? Mostly gangs, but also trafficking rings, and a few cases of corruption, but no difference in the killing pattern for either of those. UNSUBs roused by an emotional trigger should have a concrete victim type.”

The man stood with all eyes turned to him. “Okay, and what do you suggest? Those are all mafia hits? That’s preposterous,” he said.

“No, I suggest we’re dealing with something new and not yet explained. The killings are similar to mafia hits. We shouldn’t assume emotional impact—there is no anger here. It’s not a person who thinks they’re above the rules, but someone who has a very clear goal and simply doesn’t care about others' rules. The killing serves a clear and logical—at least to him—purpose. We should move on the basis that—”

“That we don’t know anything? That won’t get us anywhere.”

“Yes, it might be strange, but we can’t just ascribe to him—”

The man raised his head. “Everyone take five,” he said, and then jerked his head to the side, looking at Filip.

As everyone went to get coffee, giving the older man looks of surprise, Filip went to the office while Josh waited outside. “Dwane LaCost,” the name on the door read, with an important-sounding “Assistant Director in Charge” above the name. Rey noticed Filip didn't close the door all the way, allowing him to hear the conversation.

“What the fuck was that?” asked Dwane.

“What was what?” Filip asked back. “You were plainly wrong in a few places. I taught you myself. There was no emotion from the UNSUB.”

“Look, Filip, I tolerate you. You did great for the office and me, but that was a long time ago. Get in the way of the investigation again, and I will start asking about that old badge you show to the police at crime scenes. You’re here as a consultant now. Act like it. And let me make one thing clear,” he lowered his voice to growl. “I don't want words like ‘unexplained’, ‘new’, and ‘strange’ anywhere near this case.”

“Dwane—” Filip winced. “Look, I know this one is a career maker, I know you want to be the one who caught the guy. I don’t want the glory, I promise you. I just want to catch him, that’s all. I have a very talented kid with me, and if you would just listen to what he has to say, you could find—”

“Yeah, I heard about that kid of yours. You wheel him into the crime scenes, and he goes into a trance,” Dwane said, looking at Filip with raised brows, to which the older man was clearly caught off guard.

“People get curious. Some technicians saw your little stunt. A few years ago, you wouldn’t have gotten caught like that. You’re getting old, my friend. Leave this to me. Your wife wouldn’t want you to—”

“Don’t bring her into this,” Filip snapped.

There was a tense silence before the conversation picked back up. “I’ll allow you to stay. You did help us on many occasions, but make no mistake—I lead this investigation. Are we clear?”

“Yes.”

Afterward, Filip went out, and they all left the building for coffee to release the tension.

“Josh, can I ask you something?” Filip asked slowly. “I know you don’t like reading people, but I need you to help me.”

“Go on,” Josh said after some consideration.

“I need you to go through the people who were in that room and find someone with strong character. Someone more interested in doing what’s right than in just a career, someone willing to break a few rules and go behind Dwane’s back.”

“That’s not how it works. But I can try seeing their responses if you ask some riskier questions.”

Filip nodded.

“And Mr. Rey, I’m sorry to ask this, but… I don’t think the FBI will find the guy. Dwane is more interested in being right and advancing his career than in actually catching this man, and I have a feeling he will be wrong many times before he gets anything right about this UNSUB. I would like to do some investigating on our own.”

“You’re asking me to go behind the back of the FBI’s Assistant Director?”

“Assistant Director in Charge only of the Los Angeles branch,” Filip corrected. “Yes. This might be dangerous, but… I want to catch this man. Fifty people dead—and those are only the ones we know about. How many more went under the radar, or weren’t reported, or were mishandled?”

Rey thought for a second. If his goal was a career, then he might say no and walk away right now. But he wanted something different. Would the man in charge be part of the ‘in’ crowd? He didn’t have that feeling about him. Neither did Filip. But Josh—Josh could get him there, or at least to people he needed to be in contact with.

“Okay,” Rey nodded. “What do we do?”

“We get a few more helpers who will be closer to the case to give us intel. And then we solve this.”

“How?”

“We follow the breaks in the pattern,” Filip said. “The kills are too clean. We won’t get anything from them. No, it’s the kidnappings that are interesting. There is a pattern behind them, I’m sure. The FBI doesn't know about the guy missing from the last crime scene yet, and there should be more. If we can either predict the next victim or find an earlier case where he made a mistake, then—then we could catch him. I think it will lead us to the perpetrator. No—” He shook his head. “I know it will lead us to him,” Filip said.

Rey noticed a strange emphasis on the word “know,” as if it had been said after a considerable but brief struggle.