Secrets and Lies

After dinner the rest of our first evening in Canterbury went pretty much as expected.

I got ready for bed as soon as we'd returned to our hotel room, then spent another three or four hours with my phone and Miss Talbot's book on how to learn magic. I was determined to finish learning that truth spell, since I felt certain it was going to come in handy sooner rather than later.

Meanwhile as soon as I was done with the washroom Phoebe climbed into the big luxurious roll-top tub for a good long soak. Then when she finally emerged and got dried off she climbed into the opposite side of our king-sized bed, which to be fair was more than enough for the two of us. Honestly the thing could have comfortably fit four people.

Regardless I wasn't all that opposed to the idea of sharing a bed with my cute partner. My concerns were mostly about taking things too fast, and not taking advantage of Phoebe or her situation. Although the real challenge turned out to be not letting the little brat steal all the blankets part-way through the night.

Tuesday morning I made sure we were both up bright and early, with plenty of time to shower and dress. I was in some work-appropriate attire for a change, and I made sure my assistant was likewise presentable. By half past eight we were enjoying a light breakfast in the hotel's tea room, and as we ate we discussed the new lead Alys sent us overnight.

"If we can identify that bloke in the video that'll save us a lot of time," Phoebe commented as she studied the clip on her phone.

I nodded in agreement, "My thoughts exactly."

The clip in question was one of two Alys and Emma had found amongst the hundreds of images and videos from Sunday's angel sighting. Unfortunately they were both very low quality. Between the heavy compression employed by the social media website and the fact that they'd been cropped and zoomed from wider shots, it meant the finer details were grainy and pixellated.

They were still good enough to recognize the subject matter though. The first four-second segment proved Owen and Martin were indeed among the crowd of witnesses on Sunday. And not only had they seen the angel first-hand, it even appeared like they received some of the 'blessings' it was handing out as it floated around above the large group of onlookers.

The second clip was even shorter, just two blurry seconds as the camera panned past the crowd in an attempt to follow the angel when it finally departed. What made that brief segment important to us was it captured Martin again, only this time he appeared to be speaking to a young man in priestly robes. The clip was too small and blurry for Terry to get any sort of reverse image match on the unknown priest, but if he worked at the cathedral then odds were someone there would recognize him and point us in the right direction.

And I already knew exactly where to begin. "As soon as we're done breakfast we'll head over there and try and speak with a member of the Cathedral Constabulary. Partially as a matter of professional courtesy, but also because there's a good chance they'll recognize the man Martin was speaking with."

"I thought Canterbury was under the jurisdiction of the Kent Police?" Phoebe asked with a raised eyebrow.

I'd actually thought that too, it was only when I had a closer look at the cathedral's website that I realized they had their own on-site police. Instead of admitting I only just learned that detail myself I pretended it was common knowledge, "The city is, yes. But the cathedral has their own force on site. Both for the protection of the visiting public as well as the security of the historic site."

"Huh," the redhead frowned. Then she shrugged, "I assume you'll handle all that yourself, while I just stand around and look pretty again?"

I grinned, "Good girl, I see you're getting the hang of it. Do try and pay attention though Feebs, don't let your mind wander too much while I'm handling the interviews. You never know when I might need my assistant to do some assisting."

She rolled her eyes while her cheeks coloured slightly. That was the end of our banter, as we both finished our morning pastries and coffee before heading out. We were close enough to the cathedral there was no point even thinking about the SUV, so we made our way over there on foot.

And once there it wasn't that hard to find a pair of constables standing near the main public entrance. I made use of my new ID as I introduced myself, then explained we were looking for Mr. Smith of Cardiff. I had Phoebe show them that clip of Martin speaking with the priest and asked if they recognized either of the men in the video.

PC Rory Evans hadn't seen Martin, but he immediately recognized the man in the robes as one Andrew Simmons, who was at the cathedral for some sort of religious study programme. Even better, the constable gestured at the entrance next to us and said that Simmons had just gone into the nave not ten minutes earlier.

I thanked him and his partner, then Phoebe and I went inside where we soon spotted the young man making his way through the huge structure. We hurried to catch up, and as we approached I addressed him, "Excuse me?"

"Good morning," I added when he stopped and turned to face us, "Are you Andrew Simmons?"

He looked to be in his mid- to late-twenties, with hazel eyes and short neatly-trimmed light brown hair. His attractive face had fair skin and was cleanly-shaved, which gave him a sort of boyish charm.

In response to my question his eyes quickly flicked up and down over both me and my partner. Then he nodded, "Yes that's me. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you have a few minutes to answer some questions, regarding events from Sunday afternoon," I explained.

The effect on Simmons' demeanour was instant, his expression shifted from politely curious to wary and guarded. His tone was cooler too as he stated, "If you're with the press then you should direct all inquiries through the Church's media office."

"Not the press," I responded as I smoothly presented my new ID, "I'm Detective Trillium Sharpe, this is my associate Phoebe Campbell."

Once again his expression shifted, this time revealing a mix of surprise, wariness, and confusion. "If this is a police matter then perhaps you should speak with the cathedral's constabulary? I'm sure they'll be able to assist you in your enquiries."

"We just did," I explained. "We talked to a Constable Evans, and he directed us to you."

Simmons' eyebrows crept up at that news but he relented, "Very well detective. How can I help?"

I gestured for Phoebe to show him the two clips on her phone while I explained, "We're looking for a pair of Cardiff men, Owen Powell and Martin Smith. It looks like the two of them were here during the event on Sunday, and that second clip appears to show you speaking with Mr. Smith. Do you remember meeting either him or Mr. Powell?"

He frowned as he looked closer at the videos, then nodded when seeing the brief segment of himself and Martin. "I didn't get his name, but I do indeed remember that one."

"What did he say?" Phoebe interjected before I could respond.

"Like so many others present during the miracle, he experienced something profound when he looked upon the angel's divine countenance," Simmons replied. And while he sounded sincere, I thought I detected something wistful in his tone.

After a brief hesitation, I decided to risk trying that truth spell. I was confident I could do it without our witness noticing, especially while his attention was focused on my busty partner. I was a little less sure about the wisdom of trying to cast a magic spell in the middle of one of the oldest Christian sites in western Europe. I just had to hope I wouldn't incur any divine wrath.

After silently reciting the strange words I addressed Simmons again at normal volume, "Could you elaborate on that please? Anything you can recall about the conversation might help, even if it seems insignificant."

The priest sighed, "As I said, the gentleman seemed genuinely moved by the experience. He said something about being inspired to try and give back to the church or community, and asked if there was any way he could help out here at the cathedral."

While he spoke I also picked up little flashes of insight, that I knew had to be coming from the spell.

They told me that wistfulness in Simmons' voice came from envy. He'd been there on Sunday with everyone else, witnessed the angel alongside hundreds of others. And while dozens of tourists and laypersons seemed to be genuinely touched or experienced their own religious epiphanies, he'd felt almost nothing. There'd been the normal surprise, awe even at the sight of a truly angelic being. But that was all he felt, and it left him both doubting his faith while also feeling envious of all those countless others who'd experienced something he'd been denied.

"I explained that there was a process and a rather lengthy waiting list," Simmons continued, and this time his tone carried a very faint hint of irritation. "Then I suggested if he wanted to give back to the community, our local food bank and shelter are always looking for help. Especially at this time of year. Christmas and the winter season is a difficult time for many unfortunate souls."

Once again my spell revealed what his words had not. Smith was just one of a dozen people to ask about working at the cathedral following their angel-inspired epiphany, and Simmons had had enough of it. Not only did he have to watch so many other people feel something truly miraculous, they all seemed to assume that meant they could just join the cathedral at the drop of a hat. It took two years for his own application to be accepted, and he resented the implication that a bunch of laypersons could skip all that just because they were lucky enough to witness a miracle while visiting for a single Sunday service. Or worse, during a half hour tour of the grounds.

All that information left me momentarily overloaded, and while I quickly sorted through it in my mind my partner addressed the young man again.

"Do you suppose Smith went to volunteer at the place you mentioned?" she asked. "Can you perhaps point us in the right direction?"

"Of course," Simmons nodded. This time the only insight I got from the magic was a confirmation that the address he gave us was correct. And that it was a little ways east of the city, more than halfway back to Fordwich in fact.

At that point I felt the spell fade away to nothing, as though it had only a limited supply of energy and it just ran out. The experience left me with some renewed confidence though, so I took over once again. "Thank you for your time. We'll be in touch if we come up with any more questions, but for now I believe that's everything."

The young priest nodded once, then continued on his way while Phoebe and I turned back towards the exit.

"Magic huh?" the redhead whispered as she put her phone away. "What'd you do to him?"

I hadn't realized she'd know I'd used that spell, but tried to hide my surprise as I whispered my reply. "Truth spell. Just to make sure he wasn't hiding anything."

She gave me a questioning look with one cocked eyebrow, obviously curious to know the result. I shook my head slightly, then gestured for us to continue all the way out of the cathedral grounds and back onto the old city street.

Then as I directed her towards the carpark I elaborated, "It told me a hell of a lot more than I was expecting. But the important thing is he was telling the truth about his conversation with Martin."

The redhead nodded once before commenting, "That book Miss Talbot gave you must be bloody effective if you're already getting results like that."

"It's amazing," I agreed. Then I lowered my voice and asked, "Except how did you know I'd used magic?"

She shrugged, "Comes with practise. You'll figure it out too, as you get more experienced with the arcane."

Her non-answer didn't actually tell me much, but I decided to let that go as we reached her Grandland.

"You already know where we're going?" she asked as we both climbed inside.

I started up the engine then nodded, "Got that from the spell as well. The shelter's just off Sturry Road, partway back to Fordwich. In an old commercial building, next to some car dealerships and a DIY store."

She called it up on the satnav anyways, but we were practically there by the time she'd finished putting the address into the system.

Then she commented, "You know what else is out this way? The spot where they found Bray's body. And your hunch yesterday was correct, that dealership is where the first witness works as an auto mechanic."

"The second guy's still missing by the way," she added as I found us a place to park. "I can't help wondering how many other people might have up and disappeared since Sunday's mass-sighting. Or if it's just Owen and Martin that seemed to drop everything and vanish."

I shook my head, "No idea. Hopefully they won't be missing much longer though. That's the shelter there, with luck we'll find the both of them inside."

"Aye," she agreed before opening up her door.

From the outside it was clear the structure was originally a mixed retail commercial building, with a couple storefronts at ground level facing the carpark and office space on the floor above. Now most of the storefront windows were painted over, with signage indicating which door was the main entrance while the others were all locked up.

As we approached Phoebe commented quietly, "Truth spell or not I've my doubts about this. I've only known Martin for a few months, but he doesn't strike me as the type to do any kind of work at a place like this, volunteer or otherwise."

Rather than reply I just opened the door then the two of us stepped into the small reception area. And in a rather unexpected turn of luck, we immediately found ourselves face to face with one of our missing colleagues.

"Phoebe!" Martin exclaimed happily. "And Trillium! What a lovely surprise, I hadn't expected to see either of you here. Have you come to volunteer as well? We could certainly use the help. Having a couple pretty young women like yourselves lend a hand with the cleaning and laundry would be a godsend."

My partner scowled, "Not bloody likely mate. What're you even doing here? And why haven't you been answering your phone? Dr. Bishop's been calling and messaging nonstop since Sunday."

Instead of joining the conversation I found myself just quietly looking over Martin Smith. Despite having only met the man a handful of times it was clear even to me that something was very different about him. The first thing I noticed was actually his attire. Instead of being dressed somewhat fashionably in a shirt and sports jacket he now wore a grubby old tee and some grey sweat pants. And his normally clean-shaved face had a couple days' worth of stubble, as though he hadn't shaved since Sunday.

The last thing that seemed out of place was the smile he wore. That didn't fade or falter despite Phoebe's somewhat terse response, and it remained firmly in place through Martin's reply. Which was another thing that seemed off. The smile, his tone of voice, the look in his eyes, it all seemed excessively peaceful and pleasant. Not happy or joyous, just pleasant. In fact I was almost inclined to describe it as simple.

With that unwavering simple smile on his face Martin explained, "Please pass on my apologies to Grace. I couldn't answer her calls or messages because I gave my phone away."

Phoebe and I exchanged a surprised look, then the redhead demanded, "Why the bloody hell would you do that? And why do you look like you dressed yourself from the lost property bin?"

"You know someone's been drawing money on your accounts, right?" she added. "What's that about?"

Martin's calm peaceful smile remained a permanent fixture while he replied, "I gave my tailored clothes to a young man about to attend a job interview. He had greater need of them than I. Same with the money, I donated it to ensure that some deserving families wouldn't go hungry this week."

My partner sighed, "Mate you've been had."

Our coworker just smiled his simple smile and shook his head, "I've been touched Phoebe, blessed by one of the Lord's messengers. I've seen the light, and now I'm doing work that's much more important than anything I've ever done before."

"This is my true calling," he added with calm conviction. "It's much more important and rewarding than anything I've ever done before in my life. And that includes both LIES and the Brotherhood of Diomedes."

Phoebe gave our coworker a hard look, then she grabbed my arm and guided me across the room away from the desk where Martin remained seated. There she whispered, "He's bloody mind-controlled."

"How can you be sure?" I asked softly. "I mean, what if he really was blessed by an angel? How do we know that's not what religious rapture looks like?"

The busty redhead gave me a look, "I saw the way you were looking at him. Even you can tell that isn't the same Martin Smith you met in Yorkshire."

I hesitated a moment, then sighed. "Yeah. So if you're right, is there anything we can do about it?"

She nodded, "Aye. If it's some sort of magical control then I can dispell it. I need you to give the order though, approve my use of magic and all that since you're the lead agent."

It only took me a moment to make that decision. If Smith was under some form of mind control then I was positive he'd want it removed. And if he wasn't being controlled, then there'd be nothing for Phoebe to dispell which meant it wouldn't hurt for her to try.

"Alright," I told her. "Try and dispell it. Then maybe he can tell us where to find Owen."

Without missing a beat the redhead turned and marched back over to the desk where Martin waited calmly with that simple smile on his face.

"Right mate," she stated, "This'll probably hurt you a lot more than it hurts me. You'll thank me though when it's done."

Martin didn't even get a chance to respond before Phoebe did her thing. I didn't see or sense anything obviously supernatural, but I did see her gesture vaguely towards our colleague as she muttered some arcane words under her breath.

A moment later Smith clutched his head in both hands and let out a long scream of pain. He was loud enough I was worried they could hear him all the way back at the cathedral. Then he collapsed, slumping sideways off his chair to end up laying sprawled on the floor, silent and motionless.