Eight
It was nighttime, the stars were bright and illuminating the field around him. A wolf howled in the distance, and in that moment, a girl appeared before him. Her hair was dark, her skin a pasty white. She stared at Sirius, completely unaware of the danger she was about to face.
Right past her shoulder, Sirius could make out the figure of a man, the same one from before. He felt like a fish caught on a hook.
A knife dangled in his hand as he slowly approached the girl. She didn’t move. The man watched from a distance as Sirius got closer, and closer, until he was face to face with her.
“Please.” The girl whispered, her eyes silently begging Sirius to stop. His fingers tightened on the handle, slowly raising it up until the point was at her sternum.
“This is my design.” Sirius muttered, jabbing the knife into her chest and yanking down towards her stomach, gutting her. Her organs spilled out onto the ground as she fell forward, the only thing supporting her was Sirius.
The man stepped back, allowing her body to make contact with the ground as she took her last few breaths. His hands and shirt were coated in her warm blood. He looked up at the distant figure, warily making his way towards him–
His feet ached as they made contact with the rough pavement of the road. His legs were bare aside from a pair of boxers, sending goosebumps up his legs in the cold weather. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to maintain as much heat as he could through his short-sleeved sleep shirt.
“Sir?” Someone asked from behind him. In his daze, he hadn’t realized a police car had driven up behind him, blocking off the road. “Are you alright?”
Sirius stayed silent, words not being able to be formed in his current state. The last thing he remembered was the luring feeling of walking towards the man in his dream. He couldn’t fight it, a gravitational pull yanking them together.
“Do you know where you are?” The officer asked, slowly approaching him like one would a wild animal. Sirius shook his head, his long hair falling out of the bun at the top of his head. “Okay, let’s get you home, do you know where you live?”
The police officers drove him home, which turned out to be about 5 miles in the opposite direction.
The house was suffocating and knowing that he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, he threw on some clothes and grabbed his keys.
Remus answered the door, slightly startled at the prospect of a visitor at the early hours of the morning. The second he opened the door, Sirius came stumbling in, slightly bleary eyed and disoriented.
“There’s something wrong with me.” He muttered; his hands shaky as he stood in front of Remus.
“Why don’t we take a seat, I’ll bring you some coffee.” Remus steered him in the direction of the sitting room before going into the kitchen to brew the coffee.
“I’ve been having these crazy dreams, and today, I woke up in the middle of the street, barefoot, 5 miles away from home.” Sirius held the mug in his hands, welcoming the heat.
Remus listened to him speak, drawing up multiple conclusions in his head, both physical and mental. “Your line of work is very stressful Sirius, it’s not surprising that you may be experiencing major symptoms of stress and anxiety.”
“Remus, I’ve been doing this for a long time. I know how my brain works, sort of, and this is not how it’s supposed to be.” Sirius finally set the coffee down, scared his shaky hands would spill the liquid. “I’ve always had nightmares, but this, this is something different. It’s like a message. It feels so real.”
“What do you experience in these dreams?”
Sirius stayed silent for a moment, his eyes gently closing as he thought back to the scene.
“I kill her.”
“Who?” Sirius’ eyes are still closed, leaving Remus time to truly look at him. His cheekbones were high, his skin pale. He looked like an aristocrat, obviously gone rogue if his long hair and clothes were anything to say about it.
“A girl, in a field. I gutted her.”
“How did it feel?”
Sirius’ eyes snapped open at that, looking at the doctor in slight confusion. Remus’ expression was sincere, like he truly wanted to know how the thought of killing someone affected Sirius.
“It felt…good.” Sirius' own words caused him even more confusion. Because it was true. It did feel good.”
“Killing must feel good to God too, he does it all the time.” Remus stood, walking behind the couch. “And are we not created in his image?”
Sirius scoffed at the man, rolling his eyes at the speech. “That’s subjective.”
Remus ignored him, “God’s terrific, last Wednesday he dropped a church on 34 of his worshippers while they sang a hymn.”
“Did God feel good about that?”
“He felt powerful.”
“I’m not God.” Sirius stood, feeling the imposing weight of Remus’ eyes on him. “And either way, it was just a dream.”
Remus smiled at the words. Sirius was so insistent on calling this vision of a nightmare, reminiscing on the gruesome acts his own hands caused. With the shift of words, maybe Remus’ plan was working.
“I did it for him.” Sirius muttered, his hands in his pockets.
“In your dream?”
“Yes, he was there, watching me. I knew what he wanted me to do and so I did it.” His voice had a hint of wonder in it as he spoke. He hadn’t really realized the power this figure had over him in these dreams. But thinking back on it, on the feeling of being pulled into this grisly darkness, he was connected to his figure, one way or another.
“Who?” Sirius looked up at him, his eyes searching.
“I don’t know.” He looked away, instead focusing on the paintings on the walls. “He’s been in multiple of my dreams, a guiding force.”
Remus hummed in thought, gently sipping his coffee. “How’s the case going?”
Sirius was startled at the change in conversation. “Well, we’ve figured out something about him, but honestly it’s not really helpful in actually catching him.”
“What did you find out?”
“He’s eating them.” Remus feigned shock at the statement, his eyebrows shooting up on his forehead, urging Sirius to continue. “I had this dream, of the figure. He made me dinner, but it was the meat from some girl. He fed me a person.”
“So how did you come to the conclusion of The Artist being a cannibal?” Remus was truly intrigued. Sirius’ mind worked in wondrous ways, and it’s very possible that his subconscious was helping to deliver him to the right answers.
“When we saw all those people cut open, different organs missing, I had this vision…The man, this figure that’s been stuck in my head, preparing lungs, one of the organs missing from his victims.” Sirius took a breath before speaking. “This sounds kind of crazy, but I just had this feeling. The feeling that they were connected, that they were either the same person or maybe the man in my dreams is just a hint at what The Artist is. I don’t know.”
“You’ve gotten very close to this case.” Remus said in a comforting voice.
“This isn’t like before.” Sirius’ brows furrowed at the remembrance of the Shrike case. How he got so involved it felt like he was the killer, hunting and eating these girls like one would a deer. “I’m close to figuring this out, I can feel it.”
“You’ve connected to this case in a way Agent Dumbledore will not approve of, I believe he made it my job to steer you clear of these destructive behaviors.”
“Then why aren’t you steering?” Sirius questioned. Ever since Sirius met Remus, he had been supportive. Indulging his crazy theories and ideas. They were constantly on the same wavelength, making sense of each other's strange words.
“Because I believe in you.” Remus smiled at the man before him. “Plus, if you are wrong and you get hurt, I can be your safety net.
Sirius felt a small smile grace his face. People constantly doubted him, his colleagues, his friends, his boss. It felt nice to know someone was in your corner, that someone was going to stick by your side.
“So, what do you suppose I do, Dr. Lupin?”
“Listen to your subconscious.”