New York, March 2009
Richard Castle, Watcher
Author: Starfox5
Rating: FR18
Crossover: “Castle”
Written for: TtH August Fic A Day Challenge
Disclaimer: BtVS/AtS characters belong to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy. Castle Characters belong to Beacon PIctures and ABC Studio. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
Summary: It was starting to look like one of the cases the police was not meant to handle.
New York, March 2009
“Why was your car following us?” Detective Beckett asked Richard Castle as they stopped in front of Smith’s house.
“Just in case I need to leave in a rush. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you by asking for a ride, Detective,” Rick answered. He couldn’t very well tell her that Vi might be needed to deal with a supernatural threat, should ‘Damian’ turn out to be more than a deluded human. He really wished he could have taken his flamethrower with him.
“You use your barely legal girlfriend as your personal driver?” Beckett asked with scorn poking out behind her professional tone.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Castle countered. “And she’s 23 years old.”
Beckett gave him a look he was quite familiar with.
“She’s not my illegitimate daughter either,” he answered, “despite what some rags claim. She’s a friend of the family, and works as my bodyguard at times.”
“And as your driver, obviously.” She stressed ‘driver’ as he had heard others stress ‘personal assistant’ when talking about a rich man’s mistress.
“Yes.” It was obvious that their cover story needed a bit more work - at least if he wanted to have any chance to date intelligent women. Like Beckett. And not women who didn’t notice when his family made fun of them in their presence.
She raised her eyebrows at him, pursed her lips and turned to enter the house. Rick huffed, then followed her.
The worst thing was that Vi wouldn’t even take offense at being mistaken for his girlfriend, a poor impressionable young woman seduced by the rich, older man. She’d consider it an amusing joke. Unless someone implied that she was after his money. That could turn ugly quite quickly.
*****
“Dear Lord!” Richard hadn’t seen that many occult books and trinkets in a while, at least outside the libraries of his colleagues.
Beckett turned towards him. “You don’t usually sound that British.”
“The sight took me back to the years I spent in London, working in a private library. I tried therapy to deal with it, but some scars linger,” he answered, sighing dramatically. “You should hear my daughter talk - she spent half her life there.” And she used a deliberately strong British upper class accent when she was scolding him. Mary loved it, of course.
“My heart is bleeding for you. Studying abroad must have been a very difficult trial.” Beckett turned away and started to search the room.
“No, that was my first ex-wife.” He studied the books. Those on the shelves were the kind of crap emo kids would spend a lot of money for.
“Ah. It looks like ‘Damian’ bought more than books and crystals,” Beckett pulled out a drawer, revealing a collection of blades. “Red velvet. He went all out for those sacrificial daggers.”
Rick peered at them, then scoffed. “Those are useless trinkets. Dull blades for posers. Barely more useful than a spoon when you want to cut out a heart.”
“Really? Are you an expert for ritual murder?” Beckett was staring at him.
“I researched the matter extensively for my books,” Rick explained. He wasn’t sure she bought it. “I pride myself on getting the details right.” Or rather, just the right kind of wrong.
“That’s such an important part of writing stories about supernaturally empowered and endowed women battling demons.” The detective wasn’t quite mocking him, but she came close.
“Oh, believe me, I had to make my heroines supernaturally attractive for my own safety,” Rick said seriously.
“What?” Beckett stared at him, her mouth open in an expression of disbelief.
He shouldn’t be doing this, it was stupid to tease her like that, but he couldn’t resist. “Well, if there were actual supernaturally empowered demon hunting women around, they’d take offense if I described their literary versions as dumpy or ugly, and I’d end up ripped limb from limb.” Or at least lose one limb he really didn’t want to lose. Faith could be very expressive when making demands.
Beckett rolled her eyes again, then pointed at the empty but slightly dented space in the drawer. “In any case, one knife is missing. If that’s the murder weapon, then it couldn’t have been as useless as you claim.”
Rick was staring at a picture at the wall, showing a gaunt, tall pale young man in a cloak brandishing a blade, “That’s because if my guess is right, the missing knife is the one on this picture.” He pointed at it.
“That’s a rather plain looking knife. Not quite as fancy as the blades in the drawer.” Beckett stated.
“The really lethal things usually are not fancy, but practical.” He let his gaze wander over her jacket, turtleneck and jeans, then linger on her high heels before staring into her - very pretty - eyes again. “But often with just the right amount of stylish but impractical touch-ups.”
Her lips thinned, but she didn’t take the bait. But he thought she had shown the tiniest blush. Maybe. If he squinted.
He went on: “Like the obsidian grip there on the picture, with the Aztec runes on it.” The grip might even have been carved from the blade of an actual Aztec sacrificial knife. And that would be very bad news.
He looked around while Beckett studied the picture. A mop of red hair was visible outside the window, Vi was showing off again, hanging upside down from the roof. He pointed at the ground. Vi grinned in response, and pulled up.
When Beckett and Castle were leaving the house, the slayer was leaning against the Z3 and smiling innocently at them.
*****
“What did London say?” Castle whispered into his smartphone while watching Beckett, Ryan and Esposito gather for a coffee break in the bullpen.
“The runes on the grip are Aztec soul traps. They were used to capture demons in exorcism rituals.” Vi reported. “The obsidian was used as a sacrificial blade in those rituals.”
“So… our murder suspect could have a knife with a grip made from a demon’s prison.” Another clue that this was not a simple mundane murder.
“Yes.”
“But why the ritual? That wouldn’t do anything. How do you release such a captured demon?”
“Willow said the blood matters. Nothing else. Bathe the stone in the blood of five humans and the seal breaks.”
“Damn. Why can’t those priests never create demon prisms that are impossible to break? No pride in their work, I guess.” Rick hated it when magic was simple and deadly. It was far more difficult to stop a ritual that wouldn’t blow up in a cult’s face if a candle was slightly out of alignment. “Run the list of receipts I mailed you, and check if there are some actual spellbooks among them anyway.”
“Will do. Don’t pant too much after the sexy detective, Rick! She might arrest you for sexual harassment.”
“Hush you!” He wasn’t that bad!
Vi ended the call with a giggle. Did everyone in his family have to make fun of his love life?
He was still frowning when he went for a coffee, and the detectives must have noticed.
“Love trouble?” Beckett asked.
“No. I had Vi check a book in my office. If the runes on the knife in the picture are any indication, then the guy could be following an Aztec myth. In that case, he might try to kill four more people to bath the knife in their blood.” Rick explained while getting another coffee. He winced - that couldn’t be called coffee with a good conscience. It was to coffee what teabags were to real tea. Or American beer to Czech.
“You gave out pictures from a crime scene to your ‘driver’?” Beckett sounded livid.
Before Rick could answer, Captain Montgomery shouted from his office. “Beckett! Esposito! Ryan! They found another victim. Sacrificed like the first!”
*****
The girl was laid out on a slab of concrete, still bound with ropes from Walmart. She was missing her heart. The medical examiner, Lanie, was already on the job. Castle didn’t disturb her. He didn’t have to.
“Are you taking pictures?” Beckett asked, walking up to him. She wasn’t about to let the matter with the runes slide, it seemed.
“Not of the corpse. I am geotagging the location.” Rick explained.
The woman blinked, then he eyes widened. “Like in ‘The Seal of Five’? You think he’s trying to paint a pentagram over New York with the blood of his victims?” She was sharp. And she knew his books very well.
“A pentagram is one of the most common symbols used in occult rites. If this is the second point, then we can find the next three, and cover the areas.” His app had already done the work, and he showed it to her.
She plucked his phone out of his hand, stared at it, then turned and headed towards the other detectives without giving it back.
“Hey!” He went after her. “I need that! I can mail you the data and map!” He didn’t try to take it back by force though, and so remained out of luck, and out a phone.
“We’ve got an ID on the victim. Mary Simpson. Went missing last night, together with her friend, Claire Thompson.” Ryan announced when the two reached them.
“Damn. He has his third victim already…”
Castle and Beckett exchanged alarmed looks. She opened her mouth to say something, but Castle was faster.
“This time we take my car!”
Author: Starfox5
Rating: FR18
Crossover: “Castle”
Written for: TtH August Fic A Day Challenge
Disclaimer: BtVS/AtS characters belong to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy. Castle Characters belong to Beacon PIctures and ABC Studio. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
Summary: It was starting to look like one of the cases the police was not meant to handle.
New York, March 2009
“Why was your car following us?” Detective Beckett asked Richard Castle as they stopped in front of Smith’s house.
“Just in case I need to leave in a rush. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you by asking for a ride, Detective,” Rick answered. He couldn’t very well tell her that Vi might be needed to deal with a supernatural threat, should ‘Damian’ turn out to be more than a deluded human. He really wished he could have taken his flamethrower with him.
“You use your barely legal girlfriend as your personal driver?” Beckett asked with scorn poking out behind her professional tone.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Castle countered. “And she’s 23 years old.”
Beckett gave him a look he was quite familiar with.
“She’s not my illegitimate daughter either,” he answered, “despite what some rags claim. She’s a friend of the family, and works as my bodyguard at times.”
“And as your driver, obviously.” She stressed ‘driver’ as he had heard others stress ‘personal assistant’ when talking about a rich man’s mistress.
“Yes.” It was obvious that their cover story needed a bit more work - at least if he wanted to have any chance to date intelligent women. Like Beckett. And not women who didn’t notice when his family made fun of them in their presence.
She raised her eyebrows at him, pursed her lips and turned to enter the house. Rick huffed, then followed her.
The worst thing was that Vi wouldn’t even take offense at being mistaken for his girlfriend, a poor impressionable young woman seduced by the rich, older man. She’d consider it an amusing joke. Unless someone implied that she was after his money. That could turn ugly quite quickly.
*****
“Dear Lord!” Richard hadn’t seen that many occult books and trinkets in a while, at least outside the libraries of his colleagues.
Beckett turned towards him. “You don’t usually sound that British.”
“The sight took me back to the years I spent in London, working in a private library. I tried therapy to deal with it, but some scars linger,” he answered, sighing dramatically. “You should hear my daughter talk - she spent half her life there.” And she used a deliberately strong British upper class accent when she was scolding him. Mary loved it, of course.
“My heart is bleeding for you. Studying abroad must have been a very difficult trial.” Beckett turned away and started to search the room.
“No, that was my first ex-wife.” He studied the books. Those on the shelves were the kind of crap emo kids would spend a lot of money for.
“Ah. It looks like ‘Damian’ bought more than books and crystals,” Beckett pulled out a drawer, revealing a collection of blades. “Red velvet. He went all out for those sacrificial daggers.”
Rick peered at them, then scoffed. “Those are useless trinkets. Dull blades for posers. Barely more useful than a spoon when you want to cut out a heart.”
“Really? Are you an expert for ritual murder?” Beckett was staring at him.
“I researched the matter extensively for my books,” Rick explained. He wasn’t sure she bought it. “I pride myself on getting the details right.” Or rather, just the right kind of wrong.
“That’s such an important part of writing stories about supernaturally empowered and endowed women battling demons.” The detective wasn’t quite mocking him, but she came close.
“Oh, believe me, I had to make my heroines supernaturally attractive for my own safety,” Rick said seriously.
“What?” Beckett stared at him, her mouth open in an expression of disbelief.
He shouldn’t be doing this, it was stupid to tease her like that, but he couldn’t resist. “Well, if there were actual supernaturally empowered demon hunting women around, they’d take offense if I described their literary versions as dumpy or ugly, and I’d end up ripped limb from limb.” Or at least lose one limb he really didn’t want to lose. Faith could be very expressive when making demands.
Beckett rolled her eyes again, then pointed at the empty but slightly dented space in the drawer. “In any case, one knife is missing. If that’s the murder weapon, then it couldn’t have been as useless as you claim.”
Rick was staring at a picture at the wall, showing a gaunt, tall pale young man in a cloak brandishing a blade, “That’s because if my guess is right, the missing knife is the one on this picture.” He pointed at it.
“That’s a rather plain looking knife. Not quite as fancy as the blades in the drawer.” Beckett stated.
“The really lethal things usually are not fancy, but practical.” He let his gaze wander over her jacket, turtleneck and jeans, then linger on her high heels before staring into her - very pretty - eyes again. “But often with just the right amount of stylish but impractical touch-ups.”
Her lips thinned, but she didn’t take the bait. But he thought she had shown the tiniest blush. Maybe. If he squinted.
He went on: “Like the obsidian grip there on the picture, with the Aztec runes on it.” The grip might even have been carved from the blade of an actual Aztec sacrificial knife. And that would be very bad news.
He looked around while Beckett studied the picture. A mop of red hair was visible outside the window, Vi was showing off again, hanging upside down from the roof. He pointed at the ground. Vi grinned in response, and pulled up.
When Beckett and Castle were leaving the house, the slayer was leaning against the Z3 and smiling innocently at them.
*****
“What did London say?” Castle whispered into his smartphone while watching Beckett, Ryan and Esposito gather for a coffee break in the bullpen.
“The runes on the grip are Aztec soul traps. They were used to capture demons in exorcism rituals.” Vi reported. “The obsidian was used as a sacrificial blade in those rituals.”
“So… our murder suspect could have a knife with a grip made from a demon’s prison.” Another clue that this was not a simple mundane murder.
“Yes.”
“But why the ritual? That wouldn’t do anything. How do you release such a captured demon?”
“Willow said the blood matters. Nothing else. Bathe the stone in the blood of five humans and the seal breaks.”
“Damn. Why can’t those priests never create demon prisms that are impossible to break? No pride in their work, I guess.” Rick hated it when magic was simple and deadly. It was far more difficult to stop a ritual that wouldn’t blow up in a cult’s face if a candle was slightly out of alignment. “Run the list of receipts I mailed you, and check if there are some actual spellbooks among them anyway.”
“Will do. Don’t pant too much after the sexy detective, Rick! She might arrest you for sexual harassment.”
“Hush you!” He wasn’t that bad!
Vi ended the call with a giggle. Did everyone in his family have to make fun of his love life?
He was still frowning when he went for a coffee, and the detectives must have noticed.
“Love trouble?” Beckett asked.
“No. I had Vi check a book in my office. If the runes on the knife in the picture are any indication, then the guy could be following an Aztec myth. In that case, he might try to kill four more people to bath the knife in their blood.” Rick explained while getting another coffee. He winced - that couldn’t be called coffee with a good conscience. It was to coffee what teabags were to real tea. Or American beer to Czech.
“You gave out pictures from a crime scene to your ‘driver’?” Beckett sounded livid.
Before Rick could answer, Captain Montgomery shouted from his office. “Beckett! Esposito! Ryan! They found another victim. Sacrificed like the first!”
*****
The girl was laid out on a slab of concrete, still bound with ropes from Walmart. She was missing her heart. The medical examiner, Lanie, was already on the job. Castle didn’t disturb her. He didn’t have to.
“Are you taking pictures?” Beckett asked, walking up to him. She wasn’t about to let the matter with the runes slide, it seemed.
“Not of the corpse. I am geotagging the location.” Rick explained.
The woman blinked, then he eyes widened. “Like in ‘The Seal of Five’? You think he’s trying to paint a pentagram over New York with the blood of his victims?” She was sharp. And she knew his books very well.
“A pentagram is one of the most common symbols used in occult rites. If this is the second point, then we can find the next three, and cover the areas.” His app had already done the work, and he showed it to her.
She plucked his phone out of his hand, stared at it, then turned and headed towards the other detectives without giving it back.
“Hey!” He went after her. “I need that! I can mail you the data and map!” He didn’t try to take it back by force though, and so remained out of luck, and out a phone.
“We’ve got an ID on the victim. Mary Simpson. Went missing last night, together with her friend, Claire Thompson.” Ryan announced when the two reached them.
“Damn. He has his third victim already…”
Castle and Beckett exchanged alarmed looks. She opened her mouth to say something, but Castle was faster.
“This time we take my car!”