Secrets and Lies

"This is..." my voice trailed off as I stared at the incredible images playing on my phone's screen. "From this perspective at least, it certainly looks like the real thing. But it could be fake, right? Camera apps and filters can do some amazing things these days..."

The video was just one of dozens, if not hundreds, that had been circulating on social media since yesterday. It was taken by one of the many witnesses who'd seen the angel appear outside of Canterbury Cathedral. It first showed up in the air, glowing with a brilliant gold light as it hovered some fifty meters above the main entrance.

Then it gradually descended to within a few meters of the ground, where it floated around just above the crowd while countless witnesses snapped photos and shot video with their phones. Like the one I was currently watching, which depicted a being that seemed to match exactly what one might imagine when describing an angel.

Its features were both completely androgynous and stunningly beautiful. It had fair skin, long blonde hair, and wore flowing white robes. Large pure white feathered wings stretched out to either side from its upper back area. And a golden halo seemed to hover in the air above its head. It wore a beatific smile on its perfect face, and seemed to be handing out blessings at random as it drifted above the crowd. Then after a couple minutes it floated back up into the air until it was high up over the cathedral. It seemed to be moving in the direction of the central tower, before it vanished entirely in a flare of golden light.

Phoebe shrugged as I finally looked up from my phone, "Terry said he's trying to analyze all the video and still images. As are a lot of experts around the country, and the world. The fact that it was witnessed by a few hundred people all at once means it's pretty unlikely this is some sort of digital camera effects."

"What about practical effects?" I asked. "I know they can do some remarkable things in live theatre these days."

The redhead shrugged again, "No idea. I'm sure that's the sort of thing all those experts are looking for. At this point though, it certainly seems like those people all witnessed something real yesterday."

"I'm not saying it's an actual angel," she added quickly. "I'm fairly sure everything in those videos could be done with magic, no miracles or divine intervention required. Could be as simple as an illusion. Or maybe it's something flesh and blood, dressed up as an angel and using magic to float about."

We were still sitting in her Vauxhall Grandland, in a public carpark in the middle of downtown Canterbury. We were practically in the shadow of the cathedral, I could see the tower standing up above the shops and businesses we'd parked behind.

My attention returned to my phone again, and I ended up scrolling through a few more pages of related social-media posts before making another observation. "It seems like a lot of witnesses yesterday had some sort of religious experience. Maybe like what Robbins was talking about last week?"

"Not religious myself so I can't really comment on that," Phoebe responded. She sounded sort of thoughtful though as she commented, "Still, considering the world's only just getting used to the idea of magic being real, I can see how that could lead to a resurgence in faith. Among some folks anyways. There's certainly no shortage of conservative religious types making bank condemning those spells, along with anyone who's used them."

That made me scowl, "I know. And it's not just religious types. There's a lot of transmisic folks out there being loudly unhappy about how easy it is to transition nowadays. They're making it sound like the physical transformation somehow negates years of suffering from dysphoria, or the effects of being raised and socialized in the wrong body. Or pretending like there's no such thing as intolerant family, friends, or coworkers."

The redhead gave me a compassionate look, "That sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"Yeah," I sighed. "I'd rather not go into any details though."

She let the subject drop without another word, and instead nodded towards her phone. "While you were looking at the angel footage a little more information came up on our dead witness. Apparently Mr. Bray's body was found in a narrow band of green space between two industrial areas. Car dealership on one side, council recycling facility on the other."

I raised an eyebrow, "Car dealership? The first guy, Robbins, he works as an auto mechanic right? Any chance that's his employer's location?"

Phoebe replied, "I've already texted Terry to find out where Robbins works."

"We know White works for the city council," she added, "Which might connect him to that area as well, through the recycling depot."

That left me with a frown, "So apart from the three witnesses being friends, two of them might have a connection to the spot where the body of the third one was found."

"Aye," the redhead nodded.

After a few seconds I sighed, "My gut tells me the death's connected, but everything's circumstantial right now. Plus I'm sure the Kent Police won't be happy with us if we start poking our noses into their murder investigation."

"So where do you want to start?" I added. "Should we go have a look at the cathedral first? Or do you want to get us checked into the hotel you've booked us?"

Phoebe replied, "Our hotel should be just over there, about a block away I think? We're a bit too early to check in though. Why don't we find someplace to grab lunch, considering we skipped breakfast? Then we can have a walk around, maybe have a look at the cathedral. And the place Owen and Martin were staying."

That sounded good to me, and as I wasn't picky I let her choose the location for our mid-day meal. We ended up wandering around for almost half an hour taking in all the options and different venues in the city centre. At one point my partner gestured to a women's boutique clothes store and teased that I'd probably find my next hoodie in there, after the current one was inevitably destroyed in the next few days.

I just rolled my eyes, rather than justify that with a response. And eventually we settled on a promising restaurant that offered traditional English fare. They specialized in pies, which sounded like a nice bit of comfort food. Phoebe tried the Steak and Guinness pie with a side of chips, while I ordered their Chicken and Leek pie. And as usual the busty redhead had ale with her meal, while I stuck with soda.

The food was good and at first the two of us ate quietly, but it wasn't long before Phoebe broke the silence with a question. "What's on your mind, Trillium? You look like you're plotting something."

"Not plotting," I shook my head. Then I lowered my voice as I elaborated, "Thinking about this angel business, and how it might fit in with the conman theory."

I continued quietly, "Going after a couple middle-class working-class guys like Bray or White feels like the work of some small-time crook. But what if our small-time crook got their hands on some magic? Say they figured out how to convincingly impersonate an angel? They do a trial-run at that old church in Fordwich, it works, so their next target is Canterbury Cathedral."

The redhead seemed to think about that as she sipped her ale. After a half minute or so she asked, "So assuming you're right, what's their goal? They're not getting chummy with a few hundred people just to drain their bank accounts or steal their life savings. And how do you figure Bray's death factors into this scheme?"

"I could be way off base here," I warned, "But what if they're thinking big? Like really big? I mean as in their next mark is Church of England big. The cathedral here is home to the archbishop of Canterbury, right? Spiritual leader of the country, the only person who outranks them lives at Buckingham Palace. Sounds to me like a ticket to fame and fortune, for someone with a convincing angel routine."

"As for Iain Bray, my guess is he figured out what was going on and threatened to go public. So he had to be silenced," I added.

From the look on her face I got the feeling Phoebe was unconvinced. "I suppose it's possible, but it doesn't really fit the profile. I mean look at our last two cases? Yang-eating alien monster, and a humanoid hyena with a breeding kink?"

I frowned, "So maybe this isn't an entity? Could be a normal person putting on an act, convincing witnesses they're something more. Like that 'wolfby' Grace and Owen found up in Cumbria."

"Huh," my partner considered that for a moment. "That spell of yours, could it make someone look like an angel? We already know it can do wolfbies, catboys, foxgirls, and the likes."

That left me thinking for a second, before I shook my head. "No. I mean, I suppose someone could probably use it to make themself look angelic? It might even be able to give them wings. But I'm almost positive the wings would just be decorative, I doubt they'd be able to fly. Not without some extremely drastic changes to their physiology, but then they wouldn't look like an angel anymore, they'd look like a bird."

"And it definitely wouldn't grant them any powers," I added. "So no glowing lights, no floating halo, nothing like that."

Phoebe continued looking thoughtful for another few seconds, then she frowned. "It's an interesting theory Tril, but we're not here for the angel. We're here to find Owen and Martin."

"Right," I nodded. "They're obviously connected though. And finding the angel may well lead us to our colleagues."

She couldn't argue with that, but it felt like the conversation had run its course. We finished our lunch not long after, then set out to have a look around and get a feel for the area. We wandered along the old narrow streets in the centre of Canterbury, possibly trying to blend in as a couple tourists exploring the city. Although to be fair I wasn't sure we were actually fooling anyone. Monday afternoon in December wasn't exactly peak tourist season, and I worried Phoebe and I looked a little too out of place.

Still, nobody seemed to pay us any mind as we slowly made our way past the numerous little shops, cafes, and restaurants. Eventually we passed through a very impressive gate and got our first up-close look at the cathedral proper. Even to a non-believer like me that was an awe-inspiring structure. There was nothing obviously supernatural though, and nothing to indicate there'd been an alleged angel there the day before. Apart from a large gathering of religious people standing around where the angel appeared, perhaps hoping it might return again today.

My partner and I snapped a couple photos with our phones, still playing the role of tourists as we looked around the structure's exterior. There was no trace of the alleged angel though, or our missing colleagues, so after about twenty or thirty minutes we decided to move on.

From there we crossed over to the other side of High Street, then followed another lane up towards the river before doubling back towards where we'd originally started. That path brought us to the hotel Owen and Martin had booked into, the same one where Iain Bray's credit card was used for several nights. There was a carpark next to the hotel, and Phoebe guided the two of us in there for a quick look around. We ended up on the far side of the small lot, where the River Stour ran past.

As we pretended to enjoy the view of the river my partner commented, "No sign of Owen's car. I figured if he and Martin were still at the hotel, this is where they'd have parked."

I snapped a few 'scenic' pictures of the river and the park on the opposite bank then quietly pointed out, "It looks like some of those hotel rooms directly overlook the river. And we're upstream of where Bray's body was found."

"Aye," Phoebe replied with a thoughtful frown. "I don't think there's enough current to do what you're thinking. Could be wrong though."

We continued to admire the park and the river as I asked, "Probably a silly question, but I don't suppose there's any kind of GPS tracking in Owen's car?"

The redhead sighed, "No idea. It's a new vehicle, he just got it a couple months ago, so maybe? I'd like to think Terrance or Grace or even Alys would have thought of that on their own already. We can text them and ask though."

"Anyways c'mon," she added as she turned and set off. "I've had enough standing around a carpark. We should be able to check into our hotel by now. It's supposed to be a nice room, we can regroup and figure out our next move in comfort."

I noted she said 'room' rather than 'rooms', which left me thinking she'd booked us another fancy suite. I didn't bother asking though, I'd find out for sure soon enough. Instead I glanced at the entrance of the place Owen and Martin had stayed as we walked past. And that left me feeling a little frustrated.

"If I was still with the Met we could just go in there and ask the manager if our coworkers were there," I grumbled quietly. "Just flash my ID and use the right tone, even without a court order most people would tell me what I wanted to know."

My partner pointed out just as quietly, "If you were still a cop you wouldn't be here working with me, you wouldn't be on this case at all."

"I know," I sighed. "How do you people normally get information out of folks?"

She gave me a sideways look, "As I've said, LIES is only two months old. We're still finding our way."

"In the Brotherhood we'd use magic," she admitted in a whisper. "Read minds, or use other magical means of extracting information from folks. Brutally effective, but very much against the rules now. As you and I both know."

"Right," I grimaced. "Sorry."

A couple minutes later we were back at the lot where we'd parked. There we found a courier's panel van stopped in front of the entrance to make a delivery. Once we'd rounded the side of that we got a clear view of Phoebe's luxury SUV, and the scruffy teenager who was currently attempting to break into it.

"Oi!" the busty redhead shouted as she dashed forward. "Get away from there!"

I paused to watch the would-be thief turn and make a run for it, while my partner chased after him towards the far side of the carpark. I was just about to continue on to the Grandland when a heavy black hood suddenly came down over my head. At the same time strong hands grabbed me from behind and pulled me backwards off my feet.

There seemed to be at least two, maybe three people on me, and despite my struggling I couldn't break free of their grasp. Then I heard the panel van's loading door open up. My heart was pounding in my chest as I tried to shout for help, but the hood probably muffled my screams. A moment later the van door slammed shut, while two very strong hands forced my arms together. A zip-tie was closed tight around my wrists, followed by another one around my ankles. At the same time the van started moving, while I kept trying to thrash and struggle as best I could.

"Hold her still," a masculine voice calmly ordered.

Once again I felt strong hands on me, two on my shoulders and two more on my legs. There was enough weight behind them to pin me down against the floor of the van. That's when I felt something lightly tap against my forehead, through the thick black fabric of the hood. Whatever it was, the instant it happened all the strength drained from my body.

Suddenly I felt more tired than I'd ever been in my life, as though I'd just run a double marathon after going a week without sleep. I was far too weak to try to move my arms, or my legs. Just moving my head felt like a monumental effort.

Even my thoughts seemed groggy, and I wondered for a moment I'd been drugged. Except there hadn't been any feeling of an injection. And for that matter I was still wearing that protective amulet, I couldn't be sure but I felt like it would prevent any needles from going in. It certainly would have stopped them from using something like a billy club to knock me out, but that's not what I felt.

It was just a gentle tap, like I'd been lightly struck with a pencil or... Then it occurred me, if magical amulets of protection existed, then maybe there were magic wands too. And maybe that's what touched my forehead.

"Wha," I tried to talk but my words came out slurred, almost like I was drunk. I took a deep breath and did my best to focus then asked, "What did you do to me? Who are you people?"

A different male-sounding voice commented, "She's fighting it."

"Hit her again," the first one responded.

There was another light tap on my forehead and that was that. The sounds of the van faded away, as did the feeling of restraints on my body. It felt for all the world as though my consciousness had just dropped out through a hole in the back of my skull, and I was left with nothing but the sensation of falling, down into a deep dark bottomless pit.