“You’re working late tonight,” 

Eliza Dixon looked up from her work, shuffling papers on her desk. “I didn’t expect you to stay here, Sam,”

Her partner grinned from the door. “You’re not going to lose your title as the best detective in London if you take a break,” 

Eliza rolled her eyes. “I don’t see any point in wasting time that could be used efficiently,” She discreetly folded up the paper she was looking at and tucked it away.

Sam Powell leaned over her desk.  “Watcha working on?”

“Missing persons case,” 

Sam hummed. “We thinking human-caused, or something supernatural?”

“I’m not sure. Might be the kelpies of 45th Street, but I find that unlikely,” Eliza replied.

“Nothing we can’t handle.” Sam glanced at Eliza, taking in her pallid skin and eye bags. “...Don’t stay up too late, alright? I’m heading home,” Eliza grumbled, and Sam put on his coat and left the office.

Eliza watched the door swing shut. Only then did she pull the paper out from her sleeve, unfolding it gently, smoothing out the creases. She ran her fingers over the ink, to assure herself it was real. She stared up at the door her partner just left through.

No one ever said this job would be easy.

“Morning Partner!” Sam gushed from Eliza’s front door. Eliza stared at him in shock.

“Who said you can come here?”

Sam frowned. “El, we’ve known each other for years. I… Always come to meet you in the mornings,” 

Eliza massaged her temples. “Well, you do, but- I just- Ah, nevermind, let me get my coat,”

She grabbed her jacket, and her ID. A lighter and a large bottle of salt. Things you needed as a detective in a city as big, as magical, as weird as London. She superstitiously slipped her loaded pistol into her holster. It was regulation for most lawmen to carry one, but for some reason, she didn’t want Sam to think she had one today.

“Ready to go?” Sam asked, smiling, and they both left the building and walked down the street. 

“Why are we working on a Saturday??”

“Some Lady on Reading Avenue claims she hasn’t seen her neighbor all week. Said the house started smelling funny, but  food was still being delivered and the electricity was paid,” He handed Eliza a file

Eliza scoffed as she looked through it. “Murdered by a squatter? How tacky,”

“Worth checking out thought,” 

They approached the house. It was fairly normal, with red bricks, a gray roof, and a couple of windows with the shades drawn. Eliza knocked, but after a few moments broke the lock and the door swung open on creaky hinges.

Sam cursed and covered his nose with his shirt. Eliza whipped out her gun on instinct, subtlety be damned. “What happened here?”

The back of the door was dark and sticky. Blood was splattered against the furniture, dripping down the walls, puddling on the floor. The sofa was ripped, and the drywall punctured as if it sustained a beating. Even though it was a fairly bright and warm morning in London, the house was dark and damp, as if it was stuck in another season.

“Must’ve been a heck of a fight,”

“See if you can find the light switch,”

Sam wandered towards the living room, and Eliza the kitchen. Blood everywhere, and the stove disabled. She nudged open a door in the hallway. It was a bathroom, with considerably less damage. The sink, however, was caked with streaky, old blood. She looked up. The mirror was shattered.

Something barreled through the bathroom doors.

Eliza shrieked and aimed her pistol, but the figure grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hallway. Her pistol was knocked away, skidding down the hallway. 

The figure grabbed roughly at her arms and shoulders, cold, clammy fingers fumbling everywhere. Desperation poured out of their every movement, despite being unnaturally silent. Eliza couldn’t even muster up fear or anger; just an overwhelming sensation of pity. 

“Calm down!” She commanded, grabbing the stranger's hands. They went still, head bowed. Eliza released a pent-up breath. 

“Good…Now let me see your face,” The Stranger lifted their gaze. Eliza repressed the urge to scream.

Where there should’ve been eyes, a nose, a face, there was nothing. Just a clean slab of flesh. Where there was once supposed to be a mouth was a ragged tear, leading into inky blackness, with dried blood around it. Almost as if someone took a knife and stabbed a hole all the way down their esophagus. Their black hair hung limp down the side of their face, seeming intent on swallowing their head, to erase this unnatural mistake. They looked like the woman from the file.

Eliza backed away. What happened here?

The faceless stranger reached out blindly for her presence (of course it couldn’t see her, it had no eyes for goodness sake), its tear rippling grotesquely as they drew in air. 

“Help…. M-me… Help… Help…”

They can still talk? Are they even human? “Who are you? What happened?” Eliza demanded, fighting to keep her voice steady. The stranger’s mouth (mouth?!) started to tear at its edges. They drew their hands to their missing face as if to hide.

“Please… Plea-”

A loud bang echoed through the hallway. A gunshot right through the skull.

The stranger slumped over, blood pooling out of its head, a final cry escaping.

Eliza shot to her feet and whirled around. Sam stood behind her, smoking pistol in hand.

“What is wrong with you?!” She grabbed his collar. “That could’ve been a person! You killed another human! They were talking to me!”

Sam grabbed her wrist, face without regret. “Don’t be delusional. That could’ve been anything. You should be thanking me,” Eliza glared and yanked her hand away. 

“I don’t think they could’ve caused damage to this extent; we should keep searching for the perp” Eliza muttered. She’d deal with this later.

“You can’t say for certain-”

“I said, we should keep searching,”

They continued forwards.  

Eliza couldn’t find her pistol, but continued forwards. She was glad Sam didn’t follow her; she had her suspicions, but after what just happened she didn’t want to be anywhere near him. 

The master bedroom was surprisingly clean. The sheets were rumpled and there were clothes all over the floor. The mirror was shattered. “All clear here,” she called out, heading to rejoin her partner.

“Don’t come in-” Sam yelled as she opened the door. There he was, her partner, facing her on the other side of the room, with a nervous expression, eyes darting between her and the other person in the room. 

Wait.

There was another person here this whole time?

They had their back turned on her, dark hair tangled, clothes rumpled but cleaner than anything else in this house. Their shoulders were hunched forwards, almost in recognition. Eliza’s eyes flashed. Same hair, same body, same build, same veined hands-

5 years of training and 10 years of friendship took over. 

Eliza tackled the stranger. They went down with a snarl and she put them in a chokehold, back still away from her. They struggled, the stranger’s limbs flailing like toddlers.

 Eliza groped for their face; a nose, 2 eyes, a mouth with teeth, edges slick with blood- What the-, what the-

 They slid out of her hold, and in a moment of incredulity, Eliza threw her lighter at them. It clattered against the floor, but the stranger shrieked and stumbled back, clutching their face. Eliza grabbed it and flickered it on. The stranger wailed. Eliza grabbed them as they writhed in fear. 

“Sam!” She called out as she struggled to hold on. “Get them! Knock them out, Knock them out-” Sam was nowhere in sight. Eliza cursed loudly.

Something came down on her head, hard. Darkness slid in front of her eyes, and she felt the stranger slip out of her arms.

Eliza woke up in the hospital, Sam by her bedside, peeling an orange. She asked him about the house, the dead person and the one alive. He gave her a look and said that there were no bodies, no blood, no people, just an empty house. On their way back Eliza had passed out, and he had her taken to the hospital. 

“And that was that; don’t worry about the paperwork,” Sam explained, popping another orange slice into his mouth. 

After he left, Eliza stormed out of the building. She found out later that Sam had picked up the medical bill.

“Eliza, you need sleep, this isn’t healthy,” Sam sighed, eating another orange. “These are pretty good; you want some?”

Eliza shook her head. “I’ll come soon, I promise,”

Sam sighed again and left. Eliza waited until he was completely out of the building before hurriedly taking out the folded piece of paper. It had been 2 weeks since she first saw it, a little over a week since she tore it down, as proof, when the world felt as if it was collapsing around her, as she felt as though something had been carved out of her heart, like something had been taken from her.

And then he came back.

And then everything went back to normal, and everyone seemed to forget, but she couldn’t, she can’t, especially now. 

She read through the flier again, words like a confirmation.

Missing: Sam Powell, LPD

Last seen May 19th

If seen, please contact Eliza Dixon, LPD

The rest of the fliers had disappeared the day Sam came back. It was like he’d never left at all. But Eliza remembered. She remembered everything. She looked up at the pile of scraps he left on his table.

Eliza didn’t really have the heart to tell him he was allergic to oranges. 

Eliza asked Sam out to get drinks. They hung back in the warehouse by the office, drinking beer and vodka shots, reminiscing about their training days. 

She pulled out her lighter from earlier. This Sam was sloppy; he forgot to scrub the blood from her equipment. “Mind if I take a smoke? I’m a bit tired,”  Sam shifted back.

“Probably not wise to smoke here,”

“Why not?” Eliza flicked her lighter on. Sam flinched.

Eliza sighed and put it back in her pocket. “Aren’t you tired of this? I mean, you’re not even doing that good of a job,” 

Something flashed across his face, before he wiped it blank.

“What’re you talking about El?” 

Eliza steeled herself. “Cut the crap, Sam,” 

She palmed her gun and pressed it against his ribcage. “Let’s try this again; what are you?”

Sam gave her such a pained look Eliza had to fight to keep her conviction. “El… It’s me. We’ve been friends for years... We’re partners aren’t we?”

Eliza saw red. How dare you use that face, that expression, that voice.

“I’ve known you for 10 years Sam. I’ve visited your sister at the hospital, I’ve stayed up to help you pass your exams, I’ve saved you a thousand times and you’ve done the same for me. I’ve let you sleep on my shoulder on the train and I let you hug me at my parent’s funeral, why did you think I wouldn’t know-”  She twisted the cold metal into his skin and Sam winced.

“You really think this’ll be enough?” Sam gritted through his teeth. “Even if you do kill me, you’ll never find your friend, wherever I left him,”

“If he ended up like that woman, I hope to god he died a peaceful death,” Eliza’s fingers trembled at the memory. “You’re just like that thing in the house; so tell me, what are you?”

Sam lowered his head. “We… We just want to be human. We want a chance to live. The one I met in the house wasn’t fully there yet… But I am. I’m human now Eliza. I am Sam. You wouldn’t harm another human like this. You wouldn’t hurt me now, you wouldn’t hurt your partner-”

Eliza punched him across the jaw, and he staggered back. “You don’t get to be human, not after what happened to that woman, not after what you’ve done to Sam,” She spat.

“You can’t do anything now; I’m here to stay- Soon I’ll be just like him. It’ll be like I never left.”

Eliza held up the lighter. Sam stepped back. 

“You're weak to fire, aren’t you? I noticed the disabled stove in the house, the way you flinched from the lighter; I’m not stupid, you know, and the real Sam would’ve never underestimated me,”

Sam looked around. The barricaded doors, floor slicked with industrial oil, the alcohol laying near them. He swore loudly. 

“I was always good at planning ahead,” Eliza drawled with a grin. “I have to be, as the Number one detective in London,”

“Wait!” Sam cried out. “If you do it you’ll burn too! 

“I have nothing left for me. We’re partners, aren’t we? I think we can burn together,” Eliza flicked it on. 

“You’re dooming us both! You won’t survive!”

“Wanna bet?” Eliza always loved a challenge.

Sam lunged.

Eliza let the lighter fall.

The building went up in flames.