“Tsk.” Grumbled Lupe, rattling a plain white door, “It’s locked, guess we’re kicking it down.”

  Lortum stepped forward and calmly pushed Lupe to the side as he put his own gloved hand on the door handle. His protégé only looked at him unimpressed and was just about to make some kind of backhanded comment when a faint click sound of the door opening resounded throughout the quiet apartment hallway.

  Letting a smug smile run across his face, Lortum resisted the urge to gloat, after all this much should be expected from a Senior Agent… Even if his situation was the result of an elaborate ruse. Still, Lortum was happy to some extent, Oz’s innate key held a lot of potential outside of combat scenarios.

  For example, sending in those arrows of force through the keyhole to forcefully push up the lock pins, or even using them to observe the kinetic changes in the world around him… Such as Junior Agent Lupe shaking her head in disbelief, apparently not ecstatic that her supervisor had just proved himself capable.

  The theatre ‘mission’ was set for Wednesday, but that didn’t mean that Lupe and Lortum could afford to slack off throughout the beginning of their work week, so here they were following up on various Jinn leads that had almost always ended in nothing interesting.

  As of the current moment, the two government officers were exploring a run-down – but still operable- apartment complex. Some resident had claimed to have seen a large reptile like creature prowling the corridors at night, before returning to room 11, it was naturally chalked up to as Jinn activity. After all, it was unlikely that an alligator had escaped from the zoo and climbed up the first flight of stairs.

  Oz noted that it was mentioned that room 11 was currently uninhabited when he read the casefile, so assuming this was like all the previous missions, there shouldn’t be anything of interest inside.

  Pushing the door open, Lortum smirked at his Junior, “You’re so quick to violence measures, almost like a gorilla.”

  Lupe only stuck her tongue out in response, clearly unimpressed. Before pushing past Lortum and bounding into the dark room. The grizzled Jinn merely turned on the light switch by the wall and then followed after her.

  She had stopped maybe three steps in and looked around back at Oz with a curious expression, he two could only match her dumbfounded face with one of his own.

  “What exactly are we looking at?” Asked Lupe, failing to keep the confusion out of her voice.

  Indeed, the area was remarkable. Apartment 11 consisted of a single room, it was large and contained no furniture, but more interestingly the walls, ceiling and floor were wrapped in snakeskin. And not just wallpaper that looked like snakeskin, although that in itself would be strange, instead it was the genuine article.

  “Something suspicious.” Responded Lortum before realising that he was trying to understand human nature, and threw in some humour, “Ssssomething Ssssuspicious.”

  “Good one sir,” Responded Lupe without any emotion, “I keep forgetting your comedic talents.”

  Lortum was fairly certain that she was being sarcastic but didn’t say anything as her tone was missing any of the usual nuance that would have given it away. Instead, he focused on the surrounding Grudge around him, attempting to feel for anything out of the ordinary.

  More shockingly, Lortum failed to detect any Grudge at all, as if all of it had been sucked out of the room into nothingness. Such a thing was supposed to be impossible, but Lortum was old enough to know that impossible wasn’t really a word. He voiced as such aloud, hoping Lupe would understand.

  “Listen to me Lupe.” He said trying to sound more serious, “Impossible doesn’t exist. People do the impossible all the time, and the critics all say the same thing when they do: ‘Oh, well maybe that was possible, but this new task is even more impossible.’ – The problem with thinking like that is simple. There’s a reason the word impossibler doesn’t exist, you can’t quantify it. You just can’t… The second you can even imagine quantifying the impossible, it stops being impossible.”

  Lupe looked at him confused. After a small silence where Lortum started to feel like he had just rambled complete and utter nonsense, she finally spoke, but not with the grateful praise he had been hoping for.

  “That’s great and all, sir.” She started, eyebrow raised, “But what has that got to do with the room covered in snakeskin.”

  Lortum Paused, and before he could respond with a witty retort that he no doubt would of come up with, loud footsteps resounded behind him. Prompted by the sound to turn, the Agents swivelled to face a rounded man with a fairly ruddy complexion. Despite this, his brow was creased in anger, and he looked like he was ready to tackle the officers.

  “Has Dagon turned you mad!” He cursed, spittle flying from his lips. “Who are you two and what do you think you’re doing on private property?”

  Lupe and Lortum exchanged glances, the Senior gestured for her to say something and with a shrug the young girl stepped forward, producing an ID from her coat pocket. The Junior Agent flashed it with confidence, the black card clearly showing in a bold font ‘Combat Operative Lupe Shadoll, Junior Rank’.

  “We’re Officers of the Black Court,” She responded, “We have reason to believe Jinn activity is sourced from this room. Care to identify yourself?”

  “I’m the damned landlord!” He exclaimed, undeterred despite recognising the two as Goetists, “You better show me a warrant right now or I’m suing your pretty arse!”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Lupe laughed, “Sir he thinks you’re pretty! Try asking for his number, maybe you’ll get lucky, although you should warn him you don’t know how to make calls.”

  “We don’t need a warrant.” Said Lortum matter of factly, ignoring his bratty Junior. “So you can start with explain the walls to us, what is this room for.”

  The landlord’s outrage did not falter, but it did sharpen. His breathing was heavy from having hurried up the stairs, and the ruddy flush in his cheeks deepened as he followed Lortum’s gaze drifting around the room.

  “It’s décor,” he snapped at last, folding his arms across his chest in a gesture that was meant to look firm but landed somewhere closer to defensive. “The last tenant was some sort of eccentric. Paid in advance, didn’t bother anyone, so I didn’t pry. People cope in strange ways these days. That’s none of your business.”

  “Who was the tenant?” Lortum asked without looking away from the surface.

  The landlord shifted his weight. “I don’t know, I don’t care and I suggest you leave now... Before anyone gets hurt.”

  Lupe turned to look at Lortum and then drew her index finger in circles next to her temple, implying the landlord to be crazy, before pointing to him several times with her thumb in a ‘get a load of this guy’ fashion.

  It should have been obvious, even to an oblivious civilian, that between an untrained man and two Goetists who exactly would ‘get hurt’ as he had said.

  “You don’t know,” Lortum repeated mildly, finally turning his head. “You don’t care. And yet you are prepared to threaten government officers over it.”

  The landlord bristled. “I’m prepared to protect my property.”

  Attempting to supress a smile that Lortum clearly recognised, Lupe asked with a sweetness that was never usually in her voice, “How about we just take this guy into custody and ask him later from a cell?”

  The landlord’s outrage did not dissipate, but it did change shape. The initial bluster gave way to something tighter, more measured, as though he had realised belatedly that raising his voice at Goetists inside a room of unknown origin was perhaps not the wisest course of action. His eyes flicked from Lupe’s identification card to the snakeskin-coated walls and then back again, the crease in his brow deepening as he folded his arms in a defensive posture that failed to hide the tension in his shoulders.

  “It’s décor,” he said, though the word came out more brittle than confident. “The last tenant had… unconventional tastes. Paid six months up front, never caused trouble, never filed complaints. I run a business, not an interrogation chamber. People are allowed to be strange if they pay on time.”

  Lortum did not immediately respond. Instead, he stepped further into the room, his gloved fingers brushing lightly against the wall. Lupe didn’t know, and was probably just enjoying intimidating this poor man, but the Jinn could feel the lack of Jinn in this room. He knew it was suspicious, and by extension, the resident was suspicious.

  “Who was the tenant?” Lortum asked at last, his tone even and unhurried, as though he were inquiring about something trivial rather than standing inside a room that defied several foundational assumptions about Grudge behaviour.

  The landlord hesitated, and that hesitation spoke louder than any denial. His jaw tightened, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other before answering. “His name was on the lease, sure, but I don’t memorise every file. Quiet type. Rarely seen. Mostly active at night, from what the neighbours complained about. Heavy footsteps. Loud music. That sort of thing.”

  “You don’t know who he was,” Lortum repeated, finally turning to face him fully. His smile was faint, controlled, and just ambiguous enough to be unsettling. “You did not investigate unusual nocturnal activity, persistent scratching sounds, or a tenant who lined an entire apartment with biological material.”

  The landlord forced a brittle smile that failed to reach his eyes. “Look, if this is some sort of cult thing, I didn’t know. I don’t screen for theology. Besides, the tenant hasn’t been home in two weeks, if you’re looking for him it won’t be here.”

  Lortum didn’t say anything, rubbing the bridge of his borrowed nose in thought, trying to remember something. The Jinn felt like he was one step away from connecting the very peculiar dots. A room covered in snakeskin, two weeks of absence, and a lack of Grudge…

  “Ah.” Said Lortum, his eyes snapping open. As he sensed a force rapidly descending towards them. “I’ve put it together.”

  Lupe looked expectantly, as did the landlord, and the prideful Jinn was rather happy to explain it to them.

  “Did you know, that when a Jinn possesses a creature, they take on traits from that creatures biology?” He said calmly, “For example, a possessed human may be more prone to scheming and lying, a dog more aggressive and territorial, and a bird might even build it’s own nest.”

  No one responded.

  “And some birds, like the wrens, cover their nest in skin from their prey to warn other birds nearby.” Lortum was nodding along, pleased with his deduction, “Like snakeskin, or human skin, or whatever.”

  The landlord opened his mouth agape. “You’re really telling me that I’d have failed to notice if my own tenant was a demon? A monster?”

  The landlord let out a short, incredulous laugh that bordered on hysteria. “I’d have noticed. The neighbours would have noticed.”

  “The neighbours did know,” Lupe replied flatly, not looking at him. “They reported a reptilian shape returning to this room at night.”

  Lupe’s head turned first, her body already angling slightly toward the doorway before the figure even appeared. Lortum followed a fraction of a second later, his senses straining not for Grudge, but for motion, weight distribution, and the subtle distortions in the air that accompanied living things. Even now, the room remained unnaturally empty of spiritual residue, as though something had carefully scrubbed it clean.

  A man stepped into view.

  He was tall, neatly dressed in a dark suit and tie that looked freshly pressed, the fabric sitting perfectly against his frame as if tailored to exact measurements. His hair was combed back with meticulous care, his shoes polished to a dull sheen despite the dusty stairwell, and his posture was straight enough to border on rigid. At a glance, he could have been mistaken for a civil servant, an office worker returning home late, or a tenant inconvenienced by an unexpected inspection.

  He simply stopped at the threshold and looked at the three of them, his expression neutral to the point of emptiness.

  The landlord let out a short bark of laughter, the tension in his shoulders dissolving almost instantly as relief washed over his face. He turned toward Lortum with a smugness that returned

  in full force, emboldened now that a perfectly ordinary-looking man stood behind him.

  “There!” he said, gesturing triumphantly toward the suited figure. “You see? Perfectly normal tenant. No demons, no monsters, no whatever nonsense you two are spouting. Just a man in a suit. You Goetists really do jump at shadows.”

  He wiped at the corner of his mouth, chuckling under his breath before waving a hand dismissively toward the newcomer. “Go on then,” he added, voice dripping with vindication. “Have a laugh with me. Apparently, you’ve been living in a nest made of skin and I never noticed. That’s a good one, isn’t it?”

  The suited man did not react.

  The landlord laughed again, louder this time, turning half toward the tenant as if expecting shared amusement. “Well? Aren’t you going to say something? These officers think you’re some kind of-”

  The man’s jaw dropped.

  Not slightly. Not naturally. It fell open in a single, abrupt motion far wider than any human anatomy should comfortably allow, the hinge of it stretching with a wet, almost fibrous tension as the skin at the corners of his mouth pulled taut. For a suspended second, nothing came out - only a dark, depthless cavity where a throat should have been.

  Then it screamed.