Information

James
Legacy Name: Harford

The

Marsh Zasaba
Owner:

Dimitri

Age: 7 years, 5 months, 2 weeks

Born: November 8th, 2016

Adopted: 7 years, 5 months, 2 weeks ago

Adopted: November 8th, 2016

Statistics

Level: 1
Strength: 10
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 0
Books Read: 0
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

James H. Lacey

Don't ask what the H stands for...
...And no, he's sure it's not supposed to be Harvard.

Dear Mr. Brooks,
I regret to inform you that I am unable to host a lecture about the occult at your university this coming Thursday due to unforeseen circumstances.

His pen hovered above the paper precariously, the need to finish the letter great. But honestly, Lacey hated writing letters. It was so impersonal, and he could never find the right words to put down (which is strange, considering he had written many books). But if there one thing he hated more than writing letters, it was lectures.
Oh how he loathed speaking in front of crowds. Those judgmental university students thinking they already knew everything, the annoying professors. Lacey would much rather stay at home reading books, or writing them.
But here he was, writing a letter to the head of the school, trying to think of any reason to get out of doing that lecture. He sighed deeply, scratched out his fourth attempt, and grabbed a fresh piece of paper to start anew.
Luckily he didn't have a chance before his doorbell rang. Puzzled, he wondered who could be here at such an hour. Lacey opened his door to the sight of the Chief of the Scotland Yard. "Oh, hello Chief. You do realize the time, don't you?" He could have asked how the Chief was doing, but Lacey wasn't the best at human interaction.
Chief frowned slightly, but used to Lacey's quirks, and wasn't surprised Lacey was still awake at this ungodly hour. "Yes I do see that it is 3 in the morning, James. But I am here on official business from the Yard. We have a job for you." It was as if the gods were smiling upon him, he had a reason to miss his own lecture!
"For you my good sir, I'd be happy to help. So what is the case?"

On a scale of 1 to 10, (and 10 being the worst) this case would have fallen at a solid 8 on how gruesome the crime scene was. With how many times Lacey has helped the Yard with his occult and personal private detective knowledge, this victim was quite unique. "Chief, I can say with utmost certainty, that this is an occult killing." It was probably obvious to the Chief, considering the pentagram beneath the victim, and the lack of a heart inside his chest. But the man said nothing, allowing Lacey to make such obvious statements.
Lacey examined the body, the walls, the floor and then the pentagram. It was strangely familiar, yet the symbols told of something darker. He shook his head in disbelief. Lacey would have to consult his books to be sure.
"So what do you think James? Why would they carve a man's heart out of his chest?" The Chief asked, but was hoping the answer wasn't as gross as he was thinking.
Lacey rubbed his chin in thought. "Well. This could be an obvious answer and a group of cultists trying to summon a demon. But that is unlikely as these symbols next to his head are wrong. Or it could be some sort of ritual that involves eating said heart in order to grant immortality."
Silence followed. Lacey knew the Chief was still skeptical about such things, but he couldn't deny that sometimes these cases happened, and the culprit ended up being such a person. But the man still shook his head in disbelief and got the coroner to remove the body.

"Wait, wait. So this chief of police, you never mention his name. I'd rather have a name for my paper than just 'CHIEF'."
"I've never mentioned his name?" Lacey then realized that he had always called the man Chief, and didn't actually know his surname. So to hide his fault, he just waved the interviewer off. "Doesn't matter. The more important thing to know is that your title should be eye catching, draw their attention in. Possibly "The Case of the Heartless Man"."
The journalist frowned, but scribbled a bit in their book. "So what happened next?"
"Well, I went back to my office..."

His office was a pigs sty. Stray papers everywhere, books piled upon each other to create a tower ready to fall over at the lightest breeze, and even a waste basket filled to the top with balled up and ruined papers. But Lacey knew where everything was, so when he needed his book on pentagrams, he dug under a mountain of papers to get it. A place for everything and everything in its place so to speak.
He opened his book to search for the symbol he saw on the ground, but was unable to find it. Perplexed he stared around in his room, seeking some other book that might help. Lacey didn't have too many other books, and the one he first had was his best book. But he couldn't just leave it there, he had to find out what that symbol was and there was only one book left for him to look at. One he didn't particularly want to dig out.
Sighing deeply, Lacey went to his desk drawer to take out a thin handmade book and flipped through the pages. In it he found the symbol that was drawn at the mans head. It wasn't one he wanted to tell the Chief about. Lacey phoned the police station and left a message for the Chief to meet him nearby, for which he did not have to wait long.
"I hope this means you founds out something important James. My men are getting a little jumpy, and I have to go and set them straight before I go home." Chief crossed his large arms over his belly, waiting for the news.
Lacey held his breath for a moment before sighing deeply. "Well, it's not good news, but it isn't bad news either," he paused long enough to ruffle his own hair. "This is an occult ritual, just not one I had hoped to see in my lifetime. The symbols under the guy are to summon a demon from the underworld." The look on the Chiefs face remained unchanged, but Lacey could feel the doubt coming off him. "Now I know it sounds crazy, there are no such thing as demons and such. This is probably just some fanatics obsession and belief that it's real. Which is a problem since they believe this is real and they really are trying to bring forth a demon."
Chief sighed and rubbed his forehead, as if to rid himself of a headache. "Fine, they're trying to summon a demon. Anything else I need to know?"
With a smile, Lacey clapped his hands together for dramatic effect. Which obviously had no affect on his large friend. "I am glad you asked that, because this summoning has a 'recipe' of sorts. They need very specific, uhm... things, for it to work. This man was just the first, the heart of a gluttonous man. Next is the eyes of witch, the tongue of a mad man, and the blood of a heretic. Now, some are easy to get, but I have a list of a few women that would be considered a witch these days. May I suggest you post men at their homes?" Lacey handed the Chief a paper with five names on it.
"I can spare a few men, and post a few at the asylum in case they go there. As for a heretic, that isn't much to go by so I can't do much about that." Lacey agreed. They parted ways, their jobs just getting a little bit harder.

The journalist scribbled frantically, only noticing Lacey stopped talking and staring off into nothing when they caught up. "Mr. Lacey? What happened next? Did you catch up to the cultists?"
He snapped out his stupor. "Oh, yes, the fanatics. We finally caught one trying to go after one of the 'witches' I had listed. Things happened in interrogation that may or not be questionable, found their hideout and arrested them all."
"That's it? No bravado? How did you find out where they were hiding out? What about the other victims? I need details Mr. Lacey, or this wont make a very intriguing story." The journalist seemed rather grumpy about Lacey just dropping off the story. But it was very sensitive information he couldn't just fling out willy-nilly.
Lacey folded his arms and leaned back on his chair. "No, there was no bravado about how we acquired this information. It was downright disturbing and definitely not something that should be written in a paper. The man we caught was a madman and was very difficult to work with. It took a few days to get the information we needed out of him. Then that was it. We found the building, and took them all down."
It was obvious he was holding some info back, as he refused to meet the journalists eyes. They didn't say anything, just pursed their lips and narrowed their eyes a little at him. "Fine. I suppose it will do. But one last thing. How many did you arrest at the end?"
"Six. And they were not happy about it."

Once the journalist left, Lacey sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose to help make his oncoming headache bearable. There was so much he had to leave out of the interview. Terrible things. Things that will definitely give him nightmares for weeks to come. Bodies upon bodies of victims tortured and dissected for some crazed ritual. He shivered just thinking about it. Even the men and the Chief with him will never forget the scene. He reached for his bottom desk drawer, the one he kept a bottle of old scotch in, and poured himself a drink. Not that it would help anything, but drank it anyway.
But the one thing no one else saw, as he somehow found the room first, was the fact that it was all real. All of it. The ritual, the sacrifices. The demon. Oh how he wished it was all just some terrible nightmare and all he had to do was wake up. The absolute fear he felt coming face to face with that creature was something he neverwanted to feel again. It had towered over him, grinning with absolute glee at him with a mouthful of extremely sharp teeth.
But the thing that scared him the most, was that it knew his name.