"And tell your partner to be safe too."
"I will."
"It's not usual to have something like this happen, you know. I hope you understand that."
"Yes, I understand that," replied Bran as he held the front door open for the police officer to leave.
"I'm glad," she said, though she still continued to stand in the doorway.
As Bran began to think he'd have to think of some ploy to get her to leave, he saw Misha appear around the corner down the passageway. Bran was glad to see him. Perhaps the officer would leave now…
But then Bran saw the expression on Misha's face. What had happened?
"Misha!" Bran called out.
"Hello there," said Misha as he arrived at the top of the stairs. "Do we have a guest?" he asked.
"Officer Cha's just leaving," cut in Bran.
"I was just here to let you both know that Cheung Hiu Fa is being taken care of by one of her aunts while her grandfather is still in hospital. He's in a stable condition as well," said Officer Cha happily. Her uniform was crisp and new and Misha wondered how long she'd keep the enthusiasm for the job. It looked like a hard profession.
Misha looked to Bran. "Cheung Hiu Fa…?"
"The little girl we helped find," he said quietly. "With Amethyst."
"Ah, got it."
"Yes," broke in Officer Cha. "Bran was kind enough to leave your address at the station in case of any updates."
"Oh, well thank you for coming all this way to tell us," said Misha.
"No need for thanks! It's my job!" She stepped out the door, much to Bran's relief, then turned back again. Bran held back a sigh. "And stay safe you two!"
"We will," said Bran firmly and ushered Misha inside to give himself a reason to shut the door.
"What's that about 'staying safe'?" Misha asked when the door was closed. He began to wonder if the woman wasn't a normal officer, but someone from Helen's South Seas Department.
"Oh, just some murder," said Bran with a dismissive hand. He took the bags from Misha and looked inside them.
"A murder?" Misha exclaimed.
"On the island. Pearl Island. It's got nothing to do with us. How'd you go finding the things?"
"Oh, I couldn't find some things in the end, but I got most of it. I ran into Melody and she helped me rewrite the names in Traditional Chinese."
Bran shut his eyes with a pained expression. "I forgot. Sorry about that. I normally buy stuff from a place you haven't been to before."
"It's no problem," Misha said smiling. He took the bag back from Bran and went to the kitchen to pack the things away.
Bran was looking better than when he'd left earlier and it made Misha's heart glad.
"You know, I've been thinking-" Misha began but a knock from the door cut him off.
Bran had half a mind to ignore the door, but he opened it anyway and found that it was who he had expected: Officer Cha.
"How can I help you?" Bran asked even though he really didn't. Misha had just come back so he could start making that cream to help heal the cut on his mouth.
"I'm sorry to bother you again, but, did you say that your partner's name is 'Misha'?" asked Officer Cha.
Misha came to the front door, a bunch of greens in each hand. "Yes, that's my name." His mind was caught on the idea that Bran had apparently called him 'his partner' at some point. He knew he must have meant it in a business sense (for the Wishing Box stuff) but Misha couldn't stop his mind from running away with the idea.
"Your surname wouldn't happen to be 'Long', would it?" continued the officer.
"It is," Misha replied as he emerged from the daydream.
Officer Cha looked worriedly at Bran then at Misha again. "Do you know an 'Artemis Long'?" she asked.
Bran and Misha shared a look. Misha nodded. "That's my father's name," he said.
Officer Cha took a deep breath. "I'm really sorry to tell you this, but, your father has been found dead."
--
It wasn't Bran's first time in a morgue, but he still felt grateful of the warm sun outside afterwards. He glanced at Misha beside him. Was this his first time in a morgue?
The boy hadn't talked much about his background, his parents, his childhood, all that, but Bran still got the sense that he hadn't always been so antagonistic towards his father. In fact, he suspected that they'd actually been rather close up until things had gone sour.
Seeing off a beloved person is one thing, but seeing off one where the emotions were complicated was another thing entirely.
Bran chose not to say anything and instead stood silently by Misha. They were in the grassy courtyard just outside the morgue in a small corner with a few thin trees. They weren't far from the heart of the financial centre of the island, yet it was surprisingly quiet and there were even little birds chirping in the trees.
"I have an idea about how Coral got that spell on her," said Misha suddenly.
"What idea?" asked Bran.
"The librarian. You remember that guy who told us the name of the book? I think he must have done something. See, Coral doesn't have any space to study at home, so the most likely place for her to go, since Melody says she's a good student, is the library. And remember how that librarian guy was just able to tell us the information we needed to know? I bet he was planning on bewitching us too."
It was a deluge of information and Bran wasn't sure if it meant Misha was feeling better or worse.
"That's some sound thinking," he said instead. "We should visit the library and see if we can find him."
"The library's closed today. I checked before I came home…" Misha's voice caught right at the end of the word 'home'.
Bran waited.
"Bran?" said Misha. His voice sounded more distant than usual.
"Yes?"
"I want to go to the cemetery. My mum's cemetery."
"Okay."
Anything. Right now, Bran would do anything for him.
So, he turned and took a step toward the exit of the courtyard but found that Misha was still rooted to the spot, staring up at the trees. Bran stopped and went back to him.
"Misha?" he said.
Misha's eyes finally seemed to refocus, and he looked at Bran.
"Cemetery?" Bran asked.
Misha nodded, though Bran could tell that he hadn't quite gotten out of the malaise that kept him rooted, so he reached out but held back from taking his hand. Instead, he clapped him on the shoulder.
No, it wasn't just right now.
Bran would do anything for Misha, end of story.
"Let's go."
--
The woman sighed and pulled her phone out from her purse again. She unlocked and opened the gallery in one fluid motion, bringing up one particular folder of images.
The folder had been given the wonderfully description name of 'Untitled 2' but it was obvious once inside what it was all about.
Mr. Long, Artemis Long, Artemis, images upon images of the man slid under her fingers as she thumbed her way through them. Some of them were of the man alone, some were with friends of colleagues, but the ones that caused the woman the most pause were the ones with her.
A romantic dinner in Italy, a hike up to The Peak, a snowy day in Hokkaido, they'd travelled all over. But that had been years ago.
The woman's eyes latched to one photo and she stopped her scrolling and opened it.
It was of a much younger Artemis holding a child of about five or six. Next to him was a beautiful woman with a man's jumper thrown around her shoulders like a shawl and a ring on her finger.
That ring had been new and sparkly then, just like the life the pair of them thought was ahead of them, was ahead of their son.
The woman sighed and exited out of the gallery on her phone.
It hadn't been long until the cracks had begun to show, perhaps some had even started around the time of that photograph, but either way, no one would have been able to stop the inevitable.
A notification popped down from the top of the screen and the woman tapped it open, skim reading the contents of the message. When she reached the end of it, her brow was furrowed and her lips pursed.
Just what was going on?
She sat back in her chair and let her fingers drum against the wood of her desk. Then she took the handset of her landline phone and dialed a number. She let it ring once, twice, three times, then hung up. A second later another notification popped up. This time with a single word: Here.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," said the woman.
The door creaked open and a boy stepped inside. He looked like any other kid his age but for the serious look on his face and the string of bells around his wrist.
"Well?" asked the woman.
The boy nodded. "I've found him."