Chapter 3
Heritage

"I know he was here last night. This is where his body was found. And with the mess it was, I doubt someone moved it here for the sole purpose of being an inconvenience to you!"

Everything about the whole environment made Caddock cringe. It was dingy, reeked of rum, and was exactly the type of place that Benjamin would have been perfectly at home.

The early morning made the establishment somewhat more bearable. The witnesses, however, left something to be desired. The employees who all may have seen Benjamin the night he was killed had all just gone to sleep two hours ago. The only person in the pub that was remotely useful to talk to was the owner; a large fat French man with an accent so thick, it could have been cut through with a knife. It was also a disadvantage to Caddock that this particular pub owner did not hold a very high opinion of Englishmen.

"My syeempathiez to you friend," the owner said. "But what can I say, ah? Zhis is a dangerous city. The faint of 'eart will not survive."

The pub owner laughed, as though Caddock were complaining about something as mundane as Benjamin coming back to the inn drunk and waking up with a horrible hangover. The concept of a man being dead appeared to be quite amusing to this man, in fact.

All the same, Caddock did his best to be courteous. "Mr. Leroq was an Auror. He fought against Dark wizards for a living! Whatever it was that killed him was extremely powerful and likely very dangerous. To anyone."

"I 'ave not 'ad any complaints from any of my ozher customers," the owner argued, shifting his eyes down to the dirty glass he was wiping with his beefy hands. "And for as tipzy and aggressive as people are when zhey leave zhis place, I zhink I would 'ave seen something or 'eard something before now."

A smile crept across his lips and a throaty snicker escaped his breath "At the very least, you can know your friend died with a smile on 'is face."

What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I would not want to sully the man's good name," the man said, scratching at his dirty beard, Caddock waiting to see if anything fell out. "And eet means exactly what you would zhink eet means, boy!"

The pub owner gave a hearty laugh at his own words, but Caddock remained unamused, even though he did indeed have a good idea as to what the man was talking about.

"An Auror—a servant of the British Ministry was murder in your establishment!" Caddock tried to keep his tone in its practiced business, but even he could hear his own anger and annoyance slipping through.

The pub owner simply shrugged his shoulders. "I'm French; what do I care?"

That was the end of what Caddock was willing to put up with. "You need to know a man's nationality before you feel sympathy for his death?" Caddock growled.

The owner of the pub was easily twice Caddock's size, and there was no way of nowing whether the man was made of more muscle than fat. In short, Caddock was taking a chance in physically provoking this man, with both hands clenched firmly at the man's collar and his wand out of reach. But remembering his dead partners remains and the gruesome manner in which he must have died was more than enough to renew his courage once again.

Luckily for Caddock, the pub owner chose once again to display his complete inability to respond appropriately to any situation. "I like you, boy!" he laughed heartily once again. "You have zhe fire in zhe belly, passion in zhe heart! Zhat is so rare zhese days!"

Caddock let go of the man's collar. Now that there was no risk in the action, he felt much more at ease than he had been before. "You were here last night. Do you remember seeing Benjamin Leroq?"

"Yes, I was and yes, I do," he replied. "As I said, a British man! Zhat I would notice!"

Caddock could have figured as much. Given the employees he had met so far, he had a feeling the city's native English might not feel so welcome.

"Yes, he was courting a little lady," the man said with a light tone. "She was sitting right there, where you are now."

Finally, Caddock was beginning to hear something remotely useful to his investigation. Rummaging through the pockets of his Muggle suit, he extracted a piece of parchment and self-inking quill to take down the statement.

"Good, good," Caddock muttered, trying to flatten the parchment with his palm. "Can you describe her?"

"She was dark-'aired, dark-skinned. Indian, I zhink," the pub owner recalled. "You know, a native."

An usually rare trait. Caddock had a general idea of what America's natives looked like, though he had never seen one in person. It seemed likely that she would be a rare enough sight that her movements would be easy to track. "Can you tell me anything else about her: eyes, nose, anything like that?"

"She was," the man considered his words carefully, "perfect. I don't know how else to say it. Like someone decided to take everything the world believed made a woman beautiful, and gave eet all to her.

"I 'ave to confess," he whispered, leaning in close, "if she weren't so intent on not leaving that friend of yours, I might 'ave given a go at 'er myself, if you know what I mean, eh!"

The man nudged at Caddock's shoulder suggestively, but the Auror had no time. He had certainly seen his share of beautiful woman throughout the world, but they were hardly something to waste precious time and energy on.

"Did you happen to catch her name?" Caddock asked, trying to get the interrogation back on track.

"No, she never did let zhat slip," the man said. "I don't recall her saying anything, actually. Let 'er fingers do zhe talking, zhat one. But believe me, if anyone were to see 'er, zhey will remember."

"Alright," Caddock replied, folding up his notes into one of his pockets. "I will then go through te city and see just how true that is."

Caddock pushed himself off the barstool and gladly left the dingy pub, and the pub's residents were more than happy to see him go. As he made his way down the stone-paved streets, he debated stopping by his French café to visit that waitress who was sweet on him, just to remind him not every citizen in the city hated a British man on principle.

Late at night, after the streetlamps had been lit, Caddock was still no closer to finding his partners murder with no more information than he had started the day with. Indian woman were indeed a rare sight, so rare that none of the dozens of people he stopped to question had seen one. His French waitress was very happy to see him, though the language barrier kept him from confiding in the young woman. There was no asking her how many Indian women she had seen that day.

Caddock ended up spending the rest evening at his French café, asking anyone who passed by his table. Not the most effective strategy in the world of investigation, but by that point, Caddock was running on fumes. Even after the restaurant had closed at its late hour, Caddock remained at his table, gazing out at the other patrons who were too drunk to move.

Caddock reached into his pocket and extracted his very miniscule notes.

Despite the fact that the café and all the surrounding businesses were closed, that did not stop the city's nightlife from stumbling past, often quite loudly.

It was yet another man, stumbling his way down the street, though not nearly as inebriated as many of the specimens Caddock had seen thus far. A young woman was holding him steady on his feet while whispering sweet nothings in his ear. When they passed by Caddock's table, she turned to him and offered a large smile.

Her face was a perfect portrait of photographs he had seen of the country's natives. She was quite lovely, her face was copper-brown and her heavy black hair pinned up under a wide hat decorated with ostrich feathers. The ensemble was a bit overwhelming, but he almost wondered if just because the woman was Indian, his mind foolishly believed she belonged in beads and deerskin.

Her gentleman friend whispered a slurred something in her ear, likely something rather vulgar from the tone of her laugh, which continued even after they had moved behind Caddock's line of vision.

Indian…beautiful…flirty around men…

Running on pure instinct, Caddock pushed away from the table and leapt to his feet.

"Get away from her!" he shouted, extracting his wand.

The man spun around quickly and so did the woman, appearing quite angry that they had been interrupted. "Waz yur problem, eh boy?" the man slurred, though the young Indian woman had yet to say anything in her own defense.

"That woman is dangerous!" Caddock tried to warn him. "She's already killed once, and she'll kill you without a second thought; I'll bet my life's earnings on it!"

At this accusation, the man burst out laughing and the Indian woman offered a few snickers as well, despite the fact she still remained extremely guarded of the British Auror in front of her.

At that, Caddock charged at the couple holding his wand at the ready. He had no way of knowing whether or not the man she was with was a wizard, but to hell with it! He could not call himself an Auror or a man if he simply stood by and allowed the poor drunk to become the victim of whatever torture it was this woman put her victims through.

"Stupify!"

Stunned, the Indian woman fell out of her gentleman's grasp and flat onto the pavement. Her wide-brimmed hat drooped, hiding her face, and about a half dozen hair pins scattered all around her. Instead of bending down to help her, her gentleman back away, stumbling, almost terrified.

"For the love of Merlin, run, you bloody drunk!"

That was what finally seemed to compel the drunk to obey. He took off running, stumbling, crocked, and running into things, but at the very least, he was moving away from certain death. However, behind him, Caddock heard a growl from the pavement where the Indian woman was still sprawled on the ground. Bent feathers, long strands of dark hair in her face, the unmistakable expression of rage; the woman looked positively wild. Luckily, she was also remaining still.

Caddock paced back and forth while the Indian woman's angry eyes followed him, like predator and prey. He debated the best way to handle the situation in terms of detaining this woman. No doubt the American authorities would be drooling to get a hold of this woman, whether she was magic or Muggle. Whatever method she used to kill, she was capable of killing wizards and other magical beings as well. That made her fall under the authority of the wizarding world no matter what she wished to call herself.

What Caddock was wondering was how he might be able to spin the situation so this murder would have to face her justice from the British Ministry of Magic. Surely the murder of a British Auror would at least allow him to argue the case. And selfishly, Caddock wanted to be the one to avenge his partner's death.

But all this would most likely be argued for months. He could restrain the woman now, and worry about legalities once she was in custody. Caddock raised his wand—

"Expelliarmus!" the woman suddenly shrieked.

Caddock's wand went flying into the air, and Caddock himself was slammed against the pavement, a sharp pain in the back of his head; he could even feel his brain rattling around inside his skull. What little light that did grace the city streets caused him excruciating pain, squinting his eyes shut to the point where he could only see shadows and outlines.

The Indian woman was now standing over him, the ostrich feathers drooping over her face making her shape easily distinguishable. When she ventured closer, Caddock was able to see a wand bound in silk cord grasped in her fingers. "What on earth was that for?"

The pain caused by the streetlamps slowly became less sharp and Caddock was able to open his eyes slightly wider.

"You are three different kinds of bastard. You know that, don't you?" she spat at him as Caddock pulled himself to his feet. "Attacking a woman! Every wizard I have ever met thinks they are so above the Muggle population, yet what I see from you, makes me wonder how the definition of 'savage' became so very twisted."

Just like Caddock, this woman was a stranger in the city of New Orleans herself. She also didn't speak in the indistinguishable Louisiana drawl Caddock had become so well acquainted with in the past few weeks. Also, she seemed to share the exact same feelings of disgust towards the city's citizens that Caddock did, although he was now unintentionally included along with them.

"You see? Witch," she said, holding her wand directly in front of his eyes. "Not a monster, not a killer; that man just walked away without a scratch on him."

The woman gazed out forlornly at the street where her gentleman had run, the only clues of his presence being the few benches and rubbish bins he had knocked over. And by how fast he had been able to run, it was plain to be seen that he had not been hurt.

"I'm never going to see him again," she remarked, using her wand to charm the loose strands of hair back into place, the scattered hair pins shooting back into place. "And I was just starting to get him to open up about his dearly departed brother."

From a pocket that Caddock couldn't see, the Indian woman extracted a long pipe and a decorated patch smelling sweetly of dried tobacco. "Nice man, but apparently he did have a fondness for the prostitutes."

She tipped the herb into her pipe. "Now stay out of my way before you are placed under arrest for obstructing a Department investigation."

With a spark from the tip of her wand, the bone pipe was lit and began to smoke. "I would have thought another Auror would have a touch of decorum. And the rest of the world claims our Law Enforcement Office is a joke."

"Auror?" Caddock gaped, not quite sure he believed this woman."You're an Auror?"

Before actually inhaling any of the tobacco, she chewed on the stem thoughtfully. "We have Aurors in America as well, Mr. Beckett," she replied snidely. "Can you take my word for it? Or are you going to need to see my badge as well?"

When Caddock did not offer a verbal 'no' right away, the woman sneered at him as she reached for her handbag. The flap open, she reached inside and tossed a small piece of folded leather for Caddock to catch. After a rather clumsy catch, he unfolded it to find a gold badge inscribed with what he assumed was the insignia of the American Department of Magic. At its side, gold writing was inscribed right into the leather, detailing all conceivably useful information about the badge's owner.

"Annie Two-Moons," he read the name aloud.

The Indian woman breathed a long line of smoke into the air. "I hate that name," she told him. "But it's what I find myself using more and more these days."

"Speaking of names, how do you know mine?" Caddock finally posed the question. "And how did you know I am an Auror?"

"You have been raising holy hell all over the city about your dead partner," the woman now known as Annie Two-Moons reminded him. "You honestly think we don't talk to one another?"

Caddock did his best to remain composed, but he couldn't help but cringe inwardly. He recalled exactly how he had been conducting this unofficial investigation. He didn't need anyone to tell him how he had been running through the city like a madman these past few days. Such conduct would never be allowed were this an official mission. Of course, if this were indeed an official mission, he would also have a partner by his side who would keep his behavior in check.

"You understand I could have you arrested right now," she told him suddenly. "Assaulting a Department agent is a crime in this country."

"Yes, I am very sorry for that," Caddock tried to apologize while at the same time, making himself look somewhat competent. "But if you really have been following my investigation, you must know that my best lead so far has been an Indian woman. You can also understand my assumptions when I saw you with that gentleman."

"Why?" she hissed in a venomous tone. "Because all Injun women look alike?"

Every bit of common sense Caddock had told him to stop talking and to stop talking now. No matter what he said or how sincerely he apologized, Annie Two-Moons would still interpret it in a way that would offend her.

She exhaled a long breath laced with smoke, almost like a dragon. "Bad enough I have to hear 'Injun this' and 'Injun that' among my own colleagues. Now I have to put up with it from an idiot Auror who hasn't even seen enough Indians to no what he's talking about."

"Are any of these colleagues working with you on this case?" Caddock asked, praying silently that there would be. "Would it be possible to speak with any of them?"

"No, unfortunately," she admitted, a bit more angry than disappointed. "Only me. But don't you shed no tears on that. Me alone will be a lot more useful to you than the rest of those morons running around chasing their tails. I swear."

Annie Two-Moons began circling Caddock, this time, taking on the role of predator herself. It was only then that Caddock was truly able to get a suitable look at the woman. She was young; younger than Caddock himself was, barely appearing old enough to be the Auror she claimed to be. She was dressed as Muggle; pulling it off better than most witches and wizards did, but still over-the-top, just enough so to still draw attention. The high-neck dress, costume jewelry, and extravagant hat: it was all so unnatural looking on her, with her age and ethnicity both.

"I'm the only one who has any clue as to what is really going on," she said, seeming to think rather highly of herself. "Of course, getting anyone in my department to believe a word I say, that is what is truly difficult."

Caddock remained quite unconvinced of the young woman's rather vain nature. "And I imagine you already know what caused the gruesome nature of these men's deaths."

Annie Two-Moons breathed out another stream of smoke. She said nothing, but her lips shaped themselves into a small smile, the kind that people took on when they were privy to some information the rest of the world was not.

"And you know exactly what it is, don't you?" Caddock ventured to guess.

Annie Two-Moons nodded, turning her attention back to her tobacco. "Something my people once spoke of," she elaborated, inhaling lazily on her pipe. "It seems impossible that I would find one so far from home, but I can see the evidence when it's there."

Caddock was already growing tired of the woman speaking in circles. "Which would be…?"

The young Indian woman tipped her pipe, dumping useless ash onto the street. "Deer Woman," she stated simply.

"A what now?" Nothing Caddock had heard from this woman made a grain of sense, so there was no reason to believe her direct answers would make any more sense.

"A creature my people talked about in stories," she explained further, once again chewing on the stem of her pipe. "I have heard them since I was a small child, and have seen the fates of those unlucky enough to encounter it. I could recognize the signs in my sleep."

"And yet, Miss…Two-Moons," Caddock said, taking his turn to speak, "I don't recall you once saying that this creature is real, though,"

Miss Two-Moons refilled her pipe with more of her sweet-smelling tobacco. "If you mean 'Can it be looked up in a book somewhere?', then no, it cannot," she said, lighting her pipe once again with a spark from her wand. "Sadly, that is because all magical texts in this country are written by white men, and what white men do not know, is assumed not to be true."

After inhaling contently on the fresh tobacco, Miss Two-Moons looked up at Caddock, noting the skeptical look that must have been quite plain on his face.

"You don't believe me either," she observed. "And that's alright. Because quite frankly, I do not need your help. You came to me, and I only though you might want someone to point you in the direction you need to be looking."

Miss Two-Moons was right; Caddock didn't believe her. And if her didn't believe her, he certainly wasn't going to follow any leads she had that were based on this belief. It would only end in a large amount of wasted time.

"I might need your help if you had anything of value to offer," Caddock retorted. "So far, all you've had to offer to me are legends and wives tales you heard as a little girl. When I was a child, parents told their children stories about hopping cauldrons and death as a living being that gave gifts to people.

"Myths and wives tales aside," Annie Two-Moons drawled, "I know that the last victim before your friend was a vampire: Barnabas Israfel. One whose friend I was able to track down, and actually convince to talk to not only a witch, but an Auror for the Department of Magic."

Caddock ground his teeth, but inwardly, he was kicking himself at his thoughts before. Even if this young woman was debatably insane and leading an investigation based on the notion of imaginary monsters and boogiemen-type creatures, he could hardly ignore that a witch managing to secure an interview with a vampire, and the fact that she had not ended up dead or turned was a miraculous achievement. Caddock had not even yet begun looking for other possible victims; he had been so obsessed with Benjamin.

Caddock looked over to the young Auror. Maybe she could serve some use to him after all, if Caddock could sort the truth from her own imaginings.

"His name is Magnus Berg, and I am meeting him tomorrow night," Miss Two-Moons informed him as she began to walk away. "I have my own list of questions to ask him, but if you have any of your own, I would suggest you come along as well. Also, first impressions aside, you don't seem like the sort of man who would allow a woman to confront a dangerous creature alone."

The young woman was leaving Caddock, without so much as a parting greeting. Apparently, along with reason, she was not one for proper manners either.

"But how will I find you if I do decide to accompany you?"

"Don't you worry about that," she assured him without turning back. "I'll find you."

That was where the young American Auror, Annie Two-Moons, left Caddock: standing on an abandoned street, surrounded by scattered trash and tipped benches, bathed in dim lamp light.