A chime range as he entered the shop.
The smell of fresh meat wafted in the air, not unusual, considering he’d entered a butcher's shop. Behind the glass of the long counter were various cuts of beef, all likely chopped that very day, though the selection was limited. The sun was waning, and they would be closing soon. It would only make sense that they’d have limited products this late.
He heard the rhythmic chopping from the door leading further into the establishment, the opening covered by a simple black flap. He cast a glance around, noticing various pictures of famous people shaking hands with the owner littering the wall. He hoped that his investigation was leading him in the wrong direction.
The case was odd and this place felt normal.
He hit the bell on the counter and waited, placing his hands in his pockets and turning around to survey the shop once more. It all led here. All the threads that his bosses said didn’t exist, the ones he swore everyone was simply turning a blind eye to. Everything pointed here. He heard the flap push aside and a grumble.
“What do you want?”
Harry turned around and tried to hide the shock at the size of the large man in front of him. His broad shoulders and chest made it seem as if he’d be more at home in a weightlifting competition rather than a simple butcher shop. Though the man's arms meant he likely had very little issues chopping and cutting. Reaching into his coat, Harry produced his badge and displayed it to the man.
“Detective Potter,” he said as he slipped his badge back into his coat. “I was hoping you might be able to help me with a case I’ve been working on.”
The man shrugged and grabbed the towel thrown over his shoulder to begin wiping down the glass in front of him.
Harry turned around and gestured at the various art and pictures hanging on the walls.
“How long has this place been here?”
“A couple decades,” the man replied without looking up from his task. “My father owned it before he passed.”
Harry paused. Now why would he lie about that? The age of the business was correct, but ownership records show that it was owned by an elderly couple who had no children.
“Seems to be a good bit of product out this late at night,” Harry continued, “think you’ll sell it all tonight?”
The man nodded.
“Most of it, yeah. We generally sell out most nights.”
Tension flooded Harry’s shoulders at the lie. Income records showed the place barely broke even. If they were selling out each day then they’d be in much better financial shape. They wouldn’t have two outstanding loans. He pivoted on his heels to face the man and placed his hands on his hips. One rested gently on his service weapon.
“Mr. Marbach is your name, correct?” he asked. “Son of Philip Marbach?”
The man nodded. Harry smiled. Marbach was the name of Harry’s favorite bartender.
“This case I’m working on has been all kinds of odd. I’ll admit, I don’t believe half the things I’ve read.” His brow furrowed and he saw the man grip the towel tighter. “It’s about these bodies, you see. We keep finding them, but not the whole thing. One was missing their legs. Another was missing their hands. The last one? No head.”
Harry jerked his head towards the doorway behind the counter.
“You mind if I take a look in the back, Mr. Marbach?”
“I do,” growled the man, finally looking up and glaring at Harry.
There was a counter between them and no knives in the man’s area or on his person. Even if he lunged, Harry could get a shot off in time. He clicked his tongue. . “I’m going to level with you, sir,” Harry said. “This case is the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen. It’s got incredibly creepy vibes and we’ve found evidence that my superiors seem hell bent on burying, but I’m a persistent bastard. Now, we both know your name isn’t Marbach and that you don’t own this establishment. The only question left to answer is how much I’m going to have to fight to find out why you’ve been hacking up bodies.”
Silence.
A clock in the back chimed and the stranger leapt over the counter. Harry’s eyes went wide as he stepped back and drew his weapon, shocked at the agility. He hadn’t even bent down to clear the glass. The man lunged and Harry fired twice. The stranger staggered backwards and clutched his chest. Harry lowered his weapon but paused as he watched black liquid emerge from the man’s chest.
The man looked up and his face was changed. His skin was charred and cracked. The eyes were completely black; no white remained. Brown, twisted horns sprouted from the man’s forehead and he smiled at Harry. It wasn’t a human smile, but rather, something of pure evil.
He looked like a demon.
“What the fuck?”
The demon-like being charged. Harry raised his weapon but the beast swatted it away with ease before grabbing him by the throat with a scarred hand. He lifted Harry up and slammed him into the ground. The air was pushed from his lunges as he impacted and stars played across his vision. The beast looked down at him and smiled again.
“How is it you, a mere human, found me out?” The voice was deep and it seemed to reverberate from every surface with an unnatural tone. “You’re not even DSA. Who are you?”
The sound of breaking glass and an explosion ripped through the night air. The hand released him and Harry gasped for breath. The being staggered back, clutching its stomach. Harry’s vision blurred, but he saw a woman with bright pink hair step over him, towards the being. Without a word she raised what appeared to be a stick of wood and a glowing orb towards the being. Another explosion sounded and he covered Harry’s head.
After several tense seconds he looked back up and the being was gone. The orb at the end of the wood flashed red and went dormant.
“What the fuck was that?” he asked as he propped himself up against the wall.
The woman turned to him and smiled before looking down at the stick in her hand.
“This? Well I only know it by its unofficial name, so I have no idea. Worked on that guy though. Sent him right back to hell.”
Harry rubbed his eyes and winced as the pain in his back made itself known. When he opened his eyes the woman was crouching down in front of him, the same smile playing across her face.
“My name is Tonks,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Potter. We’ve been keeping an eye on your investigation for some time. Tell me, what do you think just happened?”
Harry’s head pounded and he needed a stiff drink, but he gestured towards where the being had been.
“Seems like that thing was some sort of demon,” he looked at Tonks and raised an eyebrow. “That’s not right though, because demons aren’t real. This case was odd, but that can’t be true. Demons are just fairy tales.”
The woman reached into her coat and pulled out a business card. As he took it, he read the black letters printed on the white card.
Agent Nymphadora Tonks Department of Supernatural Affairs
He looked up at her. She smiled again and her hair changed from pink to bright green.
“The demon was right about one thing: you managed to figure out his scheme all on your own. My boss thinks you’ve got brains and guts, so how about a change of employment?” .