In Daylight's Shadow

Prologue

Arc de Triomphe

Paris, France

Inspector Henri Gutue pulled tightly against the lapel of his trench coat and drew the flaps in towards him, trying in vain to shelter himself from the wind that whipped across his chest. Despite the warming the summer months, Paris, at least this night, was cold, and a slow, damp drizzle drifted lazily down from the heavens. His eyes scanned the cities skyline, lingering on his home's famous beauties and architectural nuances, as he slowly climbed the final steps onto the roof of the Arc de Triumphe. He muttered to himself and glanced at his watch. 2:37. He hadn't been asleep when his phone had rung not twenty minutes ago calling him to the scene, but there was a still a part of him that felt indignant for the assumption that he would be happy to be here.

As his black leather shoes clanged dully on the worn metal stairs, Gutue silently thanked the burning yellow lights that bathed the Arch for casting such a soft warm glow over the structure. Crime scenes were hard enough to work in during the day and often nearly impossible at night. He stopped at the final step, and, instinctively, surveyed his surroundings. The marble walls at the peak of the arch rose nearly four feet on each side of the large, grey rectangle of roof on which he now stood. Dotting the wall where several small evenly placed turrets, beyond which lay the second ledge of the arch, and then nothing until the swarming Parisian streets. His eyes moved across the extremes of the enclosure, then into the middle, where four men were squatting in a huddle around a dark figure. As Gutue moved towards them, the tallest turned, rose, and addressed him.

"Good evening. You must be Inspector Gutue?" he asked, extending his hand.

"Yes," Gutue replied, reaching into his coat pocket and extracting a small badge, which he flashed quickly at the young man. "I believe someone requested my assistance."

The man dropped his untouched hand back to his side, gave a half smile, and led Gutue towards the other three, talking all the while.

"Well, Inspector, I was the first one on the scene. Locals reported a series of loud, sharp noises, then large amounts of light emanating from the roof of the Arch. Our initial suspicion was some faulty wiring on the master lights, but, when we finally got onto the roof, well...we found this."

The man gestured with his hand to the floor, where the three kneeling men parted, revealing the battered body of a man. At first, he seemed no more aged than Gutue's own thirty-five years, but something about the hard lines of the mans face convinced the inspector that he was older.

"Any identification on him?" Gutue asked as he moved his way closer to the body.

"None, sir. And no visual ID for the suspect. Nothing about the suspect actually. Near as we can tell, this man was dead long before we got here."

Gutue nodded, slowly lowering himself to his haunches. The man wore the remnants of a black cloak and matching jumpsuit, both of which where ripped nearly apart in several places. Blood streaked through his jet black hair, and flowed gently down his arms. The man was on his back, staring up, his arms left limply by his sides. His mouth hung slightly open, revealing the streaks of dark black blood that stained his teeth. Several apparent stab wounds streaked the man's torso. Gutue reached into his pocket as he stood, extracting and donning a pair of surgical gloves.

"If you don't mind," Gutue said softly as he turned to the other men, "I need a few minutes alone."

The men nodded and receded to the safety of the stairwell.

Gutue reached once more into his vest and removed a small black tape recorder. After the pressing the appropriate buttons, the soft whir of the wheels began, signaling beginning of the recording. As he had been taught, he walked in small, concentric circles around the body, noting the key elements of the scene.

"Male aged thirty to fifty. Approximately five foot ten, one hundred and sixty pounds. Apparent cause of death: combination of several serious abrasions and a blunt impact wound to the skull. Schedule autopsy to confirm. No weapon visible at this time. Estimated time of death stands at 1:55 am."

Gutue paused for a moment and rubbed his temples as he looked up into the murky night sky. The wind shifted slightly.

He sank back to his haunches, and carefully moved the man's cloak from his upper body, revealing his battered chest. What was left of the man's black undergarment was burned and stained with droplets of blood.

"Puncture wounds across upper torso and lower abdomen. Sever contusion and swelling to the lower abdomen. Ankle apparently broken. Possible direct action to the right ventricle..."

Gutue stopped suddenly, and stared intently at the center of the man's chest. A deep cut ran from his clavicle to the base of his ribs, crossing another that ran from nipple to nipple. "A perfect cross," he murmured, as his hand moved in to trace the lines. As soon as his outstretched finger touched the skin and exposed sinew he felt a warm tingle in the center of his palms. He stopped for a moment, and then traced the entire length of the cross with his hand. As his hand left the cut, though, the blood turned black, and Gutue gasped as a series of etching and lines formed across the man's body. The thin black streaks seemed to form from nothing, like fresh cuts being made under the skin.

"Subject....subject..." He swallowed hard and forced himself to continue. "Subject has several concealed tattoos of unknown origin or composition. One on either forearm just below the wrists: appear to be the Greek symbols Alpha and Omega. One on either breast; matching v's at the apex of a northern semicircle. Three curved lines under each eye, slanting slightly towards the nose. A single solid line that seems to run from the palm on either side up the arm, then down the side of the torso. Letter V, I and I inscribed along base of neck."

Gutue shook his head and looked again at the man. The black ink seemed to accent the toned musculature; the man looked to the inspector like a marathon runner, streamlined and sculpted. He noticed for the first time the man's eyes, a dull, piercing green. He bent to the man, whispered a soft prayer, and moved to close the eyelids.

"I beg your pardon," came a voice from behind him. Gutue jumped slightly, and turned around, expecting to see one of the other officers sitting on the stairs. He was faced, instead, by an aged man with dazzling blue eyes, wearing a flowing brown cloak, smiling softly at him.

"This is a crime scene. You must leave now, or I will be forced to..." Gutue started, but before he could finish, the man took two slow, steady steps towards him, and Gutue felt a sense of warmth rush over his entire body. His arms went limp by his side, and, with a smile, he nodded at the man.

"Don't worry, Inspector Gutue," the man whispered to him, "this will all be over soon. Then you can go home and have a nice, long sleep."

"Mmmm." Gutue nodded, yawning slightly. "A nice, long sleep"

The man with blue eyes moved passed the inspector, and knelt before the body bathed in moonlight. Gutue smiled as the man in blue removed a small gold coin and placed it in the center of the fallen man's chest. Slowly, surely, a trickle of blood fell from the corner of the dead man's eyes, running down his cheeks and dropping softly onto the floor. Blue eyes smiled, then leaned down and kissed the man's forehead. The body glowed a soft white for a moment, then, as if made of ash, slowly disintegrated and rose into the cool night air.

-----

Three hundred miles to the north in a small, dank bedroom in number four Privet Drive, Harry Potter awoke with a start, twin rivulets of dull red blood streaking like tears from his glowing green eyes.