Emika Grows

“What?” Emika asked. “'External colleague'? Who the hell are you? Also, I don’t want to answer any questions. Please go home.”

This was a total disaster. Were they onto her? She gazed over the street behind them, trying to make out if there was a team ready to apprehend her — but so far, it all seemed peaceful. What was she to do? These two needed to just run away right now, or she couldn’t see them survive this encounter, which would leave her with an incredible mess. Especially so if they died out here on the streets, trying to arrest her.

As these thoughts jumped through her head, Emika tried to calm down and took a breath.

“Excuse the rudeness,” the ‘external colleague’ said, and made a step forward to offer her his hand. “As he said, Maxime. At your service.”

She stared at him and his smile that even crept up to his eyes, as if entirely genuine.

“Please come in,” Emika said eventually, ignoring his unknowing offer to get killed off. At least this meant these people had no clue about her. If she played this right, maybe they’d just leave quickly. “And excuse the way I look. It’s just a fashion statement I’m working on, because I’m in the business of bonsai growing.”

“Don’t worry about it, we’ve seen worse,” Beckford said. 

“Oh. Well, I worry about everything,” Emika claimed, trying to retrieve a good impression after having botched it on first sight.

Luckily, her all-devouring monster ring was currently residing in an obscured part in the back of her garden. Unluckily, Emika didn’t know for how much longer that would be the case.

Inside, she pointed to the sofa, letting them know they could sit down there, and suddenly saw a few branches she’d sawn off herself a while ago still lying on the ground next to it. Great. It was like having cut off fingernails lying around in her house. How had she not noticed before?

To keep a sizeable amount of distance toward the two of them, she sat down on the chair Lester had put on the other side of the room earlier. She briefly considered making them tea to seem nice and hospitable, but really, was there a point to seeming nice? After all, she wanted them gone.

After they’d sat down, Beckford started rummaging in his bag, and pulled out a file. He glanced through it for a moment, before laying it down on the low table before him. “Alright,” he said, clearing his throat. “As I said, we just want to ask some questions. Do you have any idea as to what might have brought us here?”

What, was this a fishing expedition? Emika knew she had a slight tendency for carelessness, but she wouldn’t start incriminating herself right from the get-go. She just shook her head.

He pulled out a photo and showed it to Emika. Upon seeing it, the blood left her head. What a terrible start.

“Do you recognize this person?”

“Yes,” she said, with a weak voice. “That’s Mina Hargrove. She was my best friend.”

“… Was?”

Fuck, Emika thought. Well, at least she had lasted ten seconds. Her brain froze, trying to come up with any way to get out of this. This was not going to be pretty. “Yeah,” she then said, about to give one of the worst insinuations she had ever come up with, “I get angry at people if they leave me hanging, and she hasn’t talked to me in a while. Done with being her friend.”

She wanted to melt into a puddle. First killing Mina off, then acting as if the lack of contact was her fault. She felt so bad. How Emika’s brain was even able to come up with thoughts like this was beyond her. On the other hand, she had to deal with what her exhausted mind gave her.

“I see,” the inspector said, and it was impossible to discern his thoughts. He simply scribbled down a line on a note pad.

Then, Beckford pulled out more pictures. Reiko Takahashi. Sam Wiley. Taara Basu. All of her dead friends. Emika couldn’t cry now. She absolutely couldn’t. And yet, her eyes welled up. Talking now would be a bad idea. She needed to calm down.

“When was the last time you saw any of them?”

Emika stared at the pictures — they were quite small in his hands, with how far away she sat. They all were family pictures; some of them a few months old, some of them very recent.

“I—I don’t know,” Emika mumbled. “Must have been a while. Why?”

“The truth is, they all went missing around three weeks ago. We are just trying to put pieces together to find out where they might be,” he explained. “Any help you could offer in finding them would be greatly appreciated.”

“I see,” Emika whispered. Even if she wanted to, there was no way she could help them find any of them. They’d already vanished by the time Emika had gone to Mina’s home, after all. Of course, Emika could tell them that they were dead, and that this all was just a terrible mistake, and due to the curse she had been inflicted with — but, from her encounters in these past few weeks, one thing was certain to her: whether she was actually at fault for their deaths or not didn’t seem to make too much of a difference. There was a good chance she’d be seen as a monster either way.

After waiting for an answer and only receiving silence, Beckford finally pulled out one last photograph.

No. Not that. Showing her this now, how was she supposed to remain composed? Emika just stared at it, a tear running down her cheek, dropping right on the floor.

It was a picture of Eva, with her parents.

“Do you know who this is?” Beckford asked.

“Yes,” Emika responded, almost as if on autopilot. “Eva. Oh, god. She loved her parents.”

“Loved?” Beckford asked right back, a strong emphasis on that last letter.

Emika started seeing stars, all the blood emptying from her brain. Now she really had done it. So, that was why Melisande had warned her about talking to the police. Was there a point to trying to get out of it?

“Yeah,” Emika said, this time lining up the very worst thing she’d ever say, “Also didn’t talk to me lately. Dead to me now.”

She felt like vomiting. Could she even call herself human after this? In fact, was there any way this type of sentence would make her seem less suspicious at all?

“Okay,” Beckford said, nodding. Then, out of left field, he asked, “Do you have family?”

Emika was full on crying by now. “No. My parents died a few years ago.”

“How did they die?” he asked, and Emika stared him down.

“Accident.”

“No other family? Dead or alive?”

“Not in this country. None that I know,” Emika leaning back in her chair, trying to wipe the tears off her face without scratching herself with growths.

“Then, who is in those urns?”

He pointed to the small shrine in the room. There were the two urns containing her parents’ ashes. And next to those, stood the two urns containing Catrine’s and Eva’s.

“Thank you very much, Beckford,” the other man, who had just been sitting there watching, suddenly said.

With confusion, Beckford turned around. “You mean—”

“Yes,” Maxime said. “I’ve got it from here. Good work.”

Beckford seemed to understand what was expected of him. Quickly, he gathered the pictures back in the file, stashed it away, and got up. “And the case?” he asked with a last glance to Maxime.

“Close it. I’ve got it from here.”

“Okay. Understood. Have a nice day,” he said to him, then turned to Emika. “Goodbye, Miss Hasegawa.”

And with that, he left. The other person remained as he was, and for a moment, he just observed Emika with his dark, unreadable eyes. Meanwhile, she tried to calm herself down.

“You did well,” he then said.

“What?”

“I mean, you did well with this visit. I was curious as to what you were going to do. Which is why I arranged this little meeting. The police had been investigating this… incident for a while.” He had a particular cadence to his short sentences. “I wanted to first see if you would take the advice. To gauge how dangerous you were.”

He got up, and then sat down on the table, getting much closer to her. He smiled, and now that he was alone, he seemed much more significant than before. As a bystander, he was simply another person tagging along, but now — he seemed confident, laid-back, as if no worry in the world clouded his mind.

“I don’t get it,” Emika said. “What advice?”

“The advice to stay low. To not endanger other people. This just now? Great job. You kept your distance, didn’t let yourself get angry. Didn’t instigate a fight or resistance. That’s how I like them.”

Them being monsters, Emika figured.

“My name is Maxime Durand. But, just Maxime is fine. I’m tasked with keeping our little town safe of magical incidents. Among other things. I’m pleased to meet you.”

Yep. This was the Cursebreaker Melisande — and, pretty much, everyone else — had been alluding to.

“I am somewhat unhappy about one thing, though. And that is what I’m here to talk about.”