Man becomes man only by his intelligence, but he is man only by his heart.- Henri Frederic Amiel

3: Sight

It had been weeks since the murders continued to get an advantage on Chanel's work, and most recently the murders were worse over time. Some let over corpses were left with huge gashes on their neck and wounds all over their body as if they were slaughtered, it sent a cold feeling to Chanel's chest as she would try to breathe whenever a body was brought to the station for an autopsy. Recently a day ago, a dreadful call from a casino in Hampton made most of the investigators run away from this attack that night—a person was with a couple of friends that night and was brutally attacked by them for doing something they didn't like. They left the body in the chamber of the casino for people to sight along their way to the casino ballroom.

It was a disgusting story in Josef's opinion. He didn't know what action to take if these were the killers who had been murdering most of their people for the past month. Thinking wisely, he believed they were linked to the other murders, though he wasn't precisely sure he had to let Chanel take this case. If not, they would be at a dead end.

The next day, Chanel did an autopsy on the man they found at the casino; his body was badly bruised and the large gashes were dried up. She bit her tongue—making it bleed a little—confused why the crimes were ongoing. She finished the autopsy and pulled out a soiled cloth.

“I can't believe it is happening again.” Chanel leered, covering the corpse with a thin white sheet of cloth.

“You mean the murders from last week and last night?” Lance questioned her. He knew his question was stupid enough to ask even though he knew what was going on.

She grimaced at him and put away the supplies she used when doing an autopsy on the dead Amanda; the glove box closed with a light clack sound. “Obviously, Lance. What else did you think?”

He shook his head as he slouched into the folded steel chair that scratched the floor, leaving a ray of gray in the linoleum tile. What an idiot; she gargled the words by drinking from her water bottle and continued to grimace at the man who at she first considered him as smart, now was showing his stupidity near the end of their autopsy. During the weeks of endless research he came up with possible scenarios for the girl's death, they were reasonable since young adults like Amanda could have feel for the same plot, but were they reliable enough to solve the case? Somehow they weren't as connected as she though, though cause of death were all the same in all murder cases.

That was the information she needed to get this case over with so that she could enjoy the end of her vacation, but it was not going to happen.

“What is the cause of death?” Lance asked her.

She opened up the manila file that held all the information and handed Lance a photo of the girl's neck. “I found this when I first examined her body the day we found her. It looks like she was stabbed in the neck.”

Lance examined the file for himself and came up with another solution. “These don't look like normal stab wounds.”

“Huh?”

“A stab wound has a slit appearance­—these look like holes.”

“Holes?” She inquired with a nasty tone.

Lance shook his head. “Yes, holes.”

“Then she could have been stabbed with a pencil for crying out loud if that is what you are saying!” She exclaimed.

Lance began to laugh, his deep laugh was lovely to hear in Chanel's opinion, and he tossed the picture in the pile of notes made during the autopsy. Chanel smirked a quick smile from his humorous laughter and made a straight face after a split second of being vile. It embarrassed her is she was ever vile, it meant nothing but nastiness. The word shouldn't even exist.

“Let's be serious about this, Chanel.” he said, “A pencil? What could have made these holes?”

She hefted the notes from the pile and scrunched them in the manila folder, eying Lance's pose in the chair. His arm rested to his sides and his legs extended out like tree roots clinging to the ground, an unnatural and inappropriate pose she thought.

“Why don't you work on that while I define the notes?”

He grudged. “I guess I can do that for you.”

“Great!” She exclaimed and tossed the evidence to him. He quickly grabbed onto them before they would flow in the air and scatter all over the floor. “I really needed the help. I was told by Josef that he wanted me to go the casino ballroom where the latest murder was called in.”

“So that means I'm here alone for the rest of the day to do your work?”

“You and Josef said you wanted to help because you were jealous of my acquisitions.” She smiled at him and pulled out a Coach bag from underneath one of the steel chairs. “I'll be back at the house by eleven. You can leave me the leftovers in the fridge.”

“As if I would be going to your house after to rampage through your stuff.” He sneered.

“Well then you can sleep in the basement if you are worried.” She joked, and opened the entrance door of the corridor. She slammed the door behind her and walked down the hallway that turned into an office, where patients and clients waited for meetings with the police force that involved with the murder cases. One of them, a brunette haired man with a gray tux sat pleasantly in the corner of the room with a suitcase at hand. He looked like a private investigator than an average person who would come by, and that is the kind of person Chanel feared.

Chanel exited the building as the department began to fill up with people scattering inside, most of them whom looked like the fancy looking man Chanel noticed a while ago. They all wore the same color suit and had the same hair cropped to the end where the tips met the tips of the ear. She hoped that they weren't private investigators, or else the investigation team would have been outraged with anger that someone had hired professionals to do the job. Josef would be the one to blame for the trouble.

The Ford car was parked in the back of the building, along with the police cruisers and buses that transported criminals to the jail house miles away from Manchester. She opened the car door and was stopped all of a sudden by a eerie noise that awoke her from her day dreaming of private investigators; she spun around and found Josef staring at her in the face. Creepiness filled her chest, her breathing lightly from fright.

“Chanel,” he accounted. His breathing was heavily, as if he had been running towards her for a long time. “I forgot to tell you, but I have a friend of mine coming from New York City who is rather interested in helping you with the case.”

She squinted her eyes, baffled. “You called for help?”

“I couldn't take it. I had to get help­–everyone else in the party left because they fear of getting hurt. And I couldn't let you do this alone, so I called a friend of mine who is good with these cases and was happy to be hired to do the job.”

She wanted to punch him, but punching wouldn't help. Fury, all she ever wanted to have at a moment like this. “When is he coming?” she asked, without trying to sound furious about his plan.

A smile stretched across his face. By his looks, his friend was already here. “He's coming right now.” And with a swift motion with his hand, he cupped his hand over his ear and listed to the sound of squealing tires on the dry pavement.

A car peeled out from behind her and rushed towards the two, waiting, and pulled up next to Josef who was laughing his ass off when Chanel suddenly went into panic mode. She grabbed onto her chest, her heart pounding. Who was this person Josef was talking about she questioned in her mind. Then, on the driver side of the car, the door swung open and a huge man climbed out while holding onto what looked like a gun in his left hand. She staggered back and hit the side of her car, frightened by what she was seeing.

He was a dark sinned man with a crew hair cut and tattoos on the back of his neck, his eyes were shield by a pair of sunglasses that were in Chanel's opinion out of style. His black coat was long and worn, and his shoes were rather dirty of what looked like dirt and blood. He looked like a serial killer than a helpful man.

The man smiled at Josef and offered a hug for him. “Josef!” he said, his tone was deep. “It's great to see you.”

Josef laughed, caught in the man's tight grip, and patted him in the back. “Chanel,” he introduced the man. “This is Eric. He is a close friend of mine who I used to live next to when I used to live in New York.”

Eric suddenly tapped on Josef's shoulders, telling him his correct name everyone responds him to. He cleared his throat and responded. “Oh my apologies, I don't mean to be rude, but you do know what everyone calls me by.”

“Oh yes.” Josef cleared his throat and corrected himself. “Chanel, this is Blade.”

“Huh?” Chanel responded awkwardly, not noticing Blade's reaction.

Josef muttered, “Yes? What is it?”

“Sorry, but please­—why do you call him that?” At the exact moment she shield her eyes from the sun beating down on her face, but from Josef's point of view it looked like she was offended that this man was enormously huge and also scary looking.

Blade sneered, “Because it is how I would like to be responded by.” His accent was dangerously scary, that Chanel avoided to have any more eye contact with the man she responded to as a serial killer.

“Okay then...” Mute yourself, she thought, just shut up so that you won't cause any more problems. Quietness entered...it was what Chanel wanted for a while since Blade made the entrance scene with his car.

Josef decided to barge into the unusual quietness and added onto the task he wanted Chanel to do for the evening. “I am going to have Blade come and follow you around so that he can get the exact evidence you have proven about the case, so make sure while you are at the Casino ballroom, give him a chance to work in with the evidence found on the scene tonight.”

Outraged, she glared at Josef, swearing under her breath. “You want me to bring this beast along?”

“Be nice to our guest­-”

“I'm not that emotional with comments like that, so don't you worry about it.” Blade curtailed, his head held high and stared down at the girl as if he were to be obeyed as always.

“So you are saying that you don't have any feelings?”

“Chanel! Behave!” Josef exclaimed and tossed a fist in the air. He staggered back to Blade and apologized for Chanel's peculiar behavior. “I'm so sorry about this. I don't know what has gotten in with her.”

“It's fine with me.” Blade said, and pointed a finger at her. “I expect you to have good manners when you are with me twenty-four/seven. If not, we will have complications along the way.”

Offended by his creepiness, she threw her hands in the air and covered herself from being hit in the face. Blade turned to Josef and told him that he was going to take Chanel with him to the casino instead of having her lead him the way now that they were already have problems with each other. Chanel swore to herself and wished the man to disappear so that she could go there herself. She didn't need the assistance, she was perfectly fine on her own, but why this? Is Josef trying to be a pain in the neck to her? She put her hands down and agreed to the new plan, though with doubt in her mind that it wouldn't work.

“All right, you can come. However, you cannot be near me within ten feet and you cannot-”

“I get it. Don't go through the rules.”

“Fabulous!” Josef happily said, and clasped his hands together. “I'm glad that this is going to work out after all.”

Without noticing, Chanel and Blade both stared devilishly at him, rolling their eyes. A bunch of crap from your mouth, Chanel mused.

“So then, we might as well be on our way?”

“Right,” Chanel said, and lend him the keys. “We're taking my car.”

- - - -

The drive down to the seacoast wasn't as bad as Chanel thought, though the idea of having Blade as a 'new' partner annoyed the hell out of her, bickering in her mind why she had to be in this situation already when she was already in near completion of the murders. Cussing out words, Chanel leaned her head against the cold glass window of the car and awaited for the casino to pop up so that she would jump out and run away from the maniac serial killer looking man.

Blade pulled up to the curb of the road and stopped, he eyed the parking lot behind the casino. No signs of familiars, thank god.

The parking lot was not as full as the one at the police department, which made it easy for Blade to park the Ford way back behind the building. It was an easier way to keep hidden if in fact, there were familiars at the place. It's better to be safe than sorry, he thought.

The car stalled behind the building, where a rubbish compartment sat next to a door that would lead another way inside the casino ballroom. The one thing Blade did hope for was that the building wasn't another night club. He had been through enough night clubs for once.

“This is the back to the casino?” Chanel asked him, his eyes peeled to the street lights above.

He shook his head. “Yes, from what you've told me.”

Chanel rolled her eyes and grasped onto the rusted knob, the knob turned and made a click sound once she kicked the steel door open. Inside the tiny back entrance, the walls were covered with cracks and holes, some with worn out pipes cut off at the ends stuck out. Two light bulbs that hung from the ceiling lit the way; a faint white glowed off the walls and revealed the dirty floor that was made with ceramic tiles, opposite colors from one another. Along the way as the slowly hiked into their path of travel, a set of rusted metal stairs popped up when Chanel scanned the corner.

“I guess we have to go through here to get upstairs.” she replied.

Blade grabbed onto the stair handle, held onto Chanel's hand, and heaved up the woman in his tough grasp, cutting off half of her circulation. Her hand was released, a sign of relief that his crunching hands didn't cause that much damage to hers. It took only a few minutes to get up to the top of the stairs and by the time Blade reached for the door, he put his ear up against the cold mahogany colored door. he could hear the sounds of laughter and praise, it sent a chill down his spine, hoping it wasn't a club.

He turned the handle and motioned Chanel to follow him. She didn't know where the exact location they were in, but by perspective of the interior design, it was the casino she was supposed to examine last night's murder. Around the corner where she stood was the restroom stalls and a janitors closet.

“Over there,” Blade said and pointed towards the middle of the enormous ballroom sized place. He pulled off his leather trench coat, his weapons that were attached to his waist by a thick black belt, his sunglasses, and tossed the stuff aside behind a bushy palm plant. He retched his face into a grin—trying to look happy to impress the girl and the other visitors in the casino room­--and turned to face Chanel in the face.

“Try to act normal.”

Chanel's eyebrows raised. “Why?”

“It's going to be an interesting investigation with these things floating round here.”

“Things?” Chanel questioned, her tone as tough as metallic.

“You'll see,” he said, and pondered off. Hopefully there aren't familiars around here. He staggered towards the casino and left Chanel behind for him to check.

Still baffled by what he was talking about, Chanel veered the opposite direction so that she wouldn't have to be watched by some freak who thinks he's a tough army guy. He thinks he's smart, she hissed, what an idiot. A balcony stood above her head that was held by two golden pillars with an engraved floral design swirling from top to bottom. After walking through thick crowds near the balcony entrance, she found herself in place where the casino room was active with animated people laughing and cheering. It could have been the obnoxious behaviors going on, but something else triggered Chanel's thoughts. And she wasn't sure what it was.

She walked down one of the aisles of slot machines and stopped near one to give it a good look at. Josef had told her the person who was killed that night was using one of the slot machines and won a grand total of ten thousand dollars; the fella must have been lucky to win that much money only to be murdered after. Described by Josef, the slot machine purposively was located near the end of one of the aisles, and had blood on the cash dispense from cutting themselves.

The slot machine Chanel looked at did not have any evidence of blood. She was back to square one. Which slot machine did he mention?

She paced around the other three aisles during the full half hour and found nothing that would help her solve last night's murder case. But still the same results showed up and Chanel thought about giving up and couldn't find a good excuse to blame to Josef why she didn't find anything at the casino club. She rubbed her temple, sweat damped her forehead before she used her sweater to damp off the extra moisture from her eyelids.

It's going to be a long night, she thought over.

Her pocket began to vibrate, and she plucked out a tiny silver cell phone. She flipped it open and answered it. “Hello?”

“Chanel?” Josef questioned, appealing to her voice as hopeful as ever.

Josef? Why is he calling?

“I forgot to mention this to you before you and Blade left.”

“Oh, you mean the freak guy?” She sneered.

Josef sighed, disbelief lifted his tone. “Chanel, please be respectful.”

“All right,” she sighed.

“A witness told me last night that a group of people is possibly involved with the murder, and they say they are staying at the hotel for a few weeks and might be leaving sometime tonight. I think it would be best to find out who these people are. Don't tell them you're an investigator, but find a way to get information off their tongues.”

“I'll do that.” She agreed, “Who might these people be?”

“I was...told that they...were...a group of friends whom are here...to find...” Then, a cracking sound cut off Josef and Chanel's conversation on the phone. Chanel furiously exclaimed into the phone loudly enough to get a response back.

“Josef?” No response.

The phone went dead all at once. Must be in a bad area, she mused. “I really do hate cell phones.”

She stampeded towards the other end of the rec hall where she sighted Blade merging around with the rest of the crowd and examined the slot machines being used; his body was easy to spot out from a mile away, but what was most interesting was that he told her he didn't like revealing the real Eric people would never have seen him as. A glut feeling heaved her chest when she saw him look over a woman's small shoulders. The one thing he didn't have for sure was manners.

Blade walked away from the woman and caught up to Chanel, with a sickening look on her face.

“What is it?” he asked.

Chanel shook her head and denied. “Oh, it's nothing. I'm just overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed? by what?”

“I don't know,” she confessed. “It's so much to be seeing in one night.”

Blade bit the lower half of his lip and looked over his shoulder. What the hell is her problem, he questioned himself. He went back to face her again. “Do you want to let this off for the night so you could get some rest?”

Chanel denied again. “Oh heavens no! I want to do the job Josef asked me to do.”

His face was questionable, though he clearly didn't understand why she was refusing every offer he mentioned. Something had to be in her mind that is driving her crazy, but she wouldn't let it out; for a woman her age she was a tough one to deal with, she was way different that what he thought of Karen for the first time.

Karen...he pondered briefly. It had been too long since he had seen her years ago, prior to that night where he thought she was going to die because of him. It was too much emotions to handle though he didn't like revealing his emotions—inside, he felt that cold feeling—regret of letting that beast gain power to kill him. After all this time of having that feeling shut tight inside, he was seeing the lighter side to himself. But was it enough to lighten his personality?

But she...that woman he saved at the hospital and at the place he couldn't remember, was something more to him than his abnormal ability as a man...or thing he emphasized...she was something special. She found the cure he needed if he didn't want to be a beast ever again. She was something...just like Chanel, but different by personality, they were similar by thought. Only if Chanel knew what he was thinking about, she would understand.

He picked up his cell phone from his back poet and read the time. “Well, it's not that late to still investigate.”

“Okay then,” Chanel responded, rudely. “You take the left corridor and I'll go up to the balcony. How about that?”

Blade's smiled flipped into a scowl. “Whatever,” he said, and scattered away.

Finally, she said to herself, alone time. She sundered towards the balcony entrance where a guard wearing all black hauled people to a stop and asked them for their wrist. Baffled, she looked closely at the woman with long, scarlet hair holding her wrist up to the man who then scanned her wrist like scanning a bar code, and opened the tiny gate for her. A bar code, she pondered. She sighed in disbelief, realizing she wouldn't be able to get up to the balcony after all. Oh well, at least she tried.

She gazed up at the balcony where a few—dashingly good looking—people overlooked the casino from behind the railing while drinking and laughing to jokes their friends made. One had short, curly black hair talking to a premium blonde woman who had a small structured face and a flat body. Her chin was slightly pointy but her features were outstanding; it's possible that she's a model for good looks on the runway. She wore a pale blue dress, her slim shoulders were covered with a white cardigan that matched perfectly with her pallid skin. She was beautiful, that Chanel wished she was just as good looking as she was.

To the side was a brawny man with thick citrus hair tied to the back that nipped his neck at a good angle. He didn't have a clean shaved look—only a thick beard the same color as his hair—and his face was so bawdy, that Chanel refused to loom him any more.

Then, she peered to the side of the man, and her heat fluttered, stopping instantly when she caught sight of him. She was mystified by his handsome features, almost spell bound that her feet felt like they were floating. His hair was a shaggy auburn that shined gold in the lights above, his light blue eyes were exhilarating as they glimmered, his face strong and like an army soldier—tough. He had a forty eight after hour shave, clean to the curve under his moistened lips. This wasn't a normal man, he was angel. And surprisingly, she thought he was more well-favored than Lance.

Without warn, the man she had been staring at saw her from the corner of his eye, and he continued to stare without giving out an emotion. Chanel couldn't move her feet now that he saw her underneath the balcony. If she ever attempted to run away, he would possibly wonder why. Slowly, Chanel walked away and went for a gambling at one of the slot machines without looking back at him. Above her marvelous beauty he had saw and come to adore, he smiled, and headed for the stairs.

She found one good slot machine to give it a try at, and slipped in two coins and pulled the leaver. The dancing pictures swirled, having to have her adjust her eyes for a few moments until she saw the same symbols show up three in a row. A lucky winner, she guessed. It was only a twenty dollar win though Chanel was pleased to have won something from a slot machine.

Suddenly, a hand grasped her shoulder, and Chanel's heart pounded hard. She spun around to see who it was that grabbed her—it was the same man she saw in the balcony above. His face was retched into a hear warming smile.

“My dear,” he said softly, his voice was velvety and it melted Chanel's voice as she tried to say something. “I can't believe I am meeting you for the first time.”

“Who are you?” She asked quickly.

“A friend.”