Souls of the Reaper

by Markie Madden

  “One moment, detective.” Colton inched the car forward again. “Yes, sir, it seems there was a traffic accident three blocks from your location. Officers are already on the scene. But you’re looking at a delay of possibly 15 or 20 minutes.”

  “Damn it! Will you get a message to Lieutenant Anderson, tell her I’m on the way, but will be a little late?”

  “Sure thing, detective.”

  “Thanks,” he muttered, but the phone had already disconnected.

  Though he knew it would be next to useless, Colton squeezed into the right hand lane, planning to take a side street to go around the accident scene. However, at the next turn, he saw traffic backed up there as well. Swearing, he glanced around for any way out of the wall-to-wall cars. Heat pumped off the pavement in visible waves. As the vehicles inched forward, he spotted a clear alley between two sets of tall buildings. He reached for the siren, then swore again as he realized he hadn’t installed the police equipment in Becca’s van.

  Still, he grunted as he wrenched the wheel to the right, guiding the clumsy van into the alley. It was a tight fit; a scant few inches separated him from the garbage dumpsters set at regular distances behind the tall structures. He imagined the buildings housed storefronts on the street level, offices or apartments higher up. Keeping a sharp eye out for anyone roaming the alley, Colton made his way to the next road, blaring his horn and forcing his way into the snarl of traffic.

  His mood hadn’t improved any by the time he arrived at the station, twenty minutes late for his shift. He expected Lacey to call him out for it. Even though the tension between them had eased up a bit since their harrowing experience on the roof where Lacey had nearly fallen to her death, she was still, among other things, his boss. He would not anticipate any favoritism on her part, especially when it came to him.

  She didn’t disappoint. Before he could even reach his cubicle, she stepped from her office and snapped, “You’re late.”

  “Dispatch didn’t tell you I called?” He immediately felt his defenses go up.

  “Yes, they did.” Her tone softened marginally. “Let’s go, we have a call.”

  “What, already?” A little over a week before, they closed a case involving a previously unknown species of Immortal called a Skinwalker, and though it might be several months or longer before that unsub ever saw the light of the courtroom, he expected the brass would have given them at least a week’s leeway before throwing them into a new case. But he shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him and followed his partner back out into the parking lot.

  She glanced in the direction of his assigned space, not bothering to hide a smirk as she noticed the van sitting there instead of his truck. “Car trouble?” Her voice held a polite tone even though he knew she meant it sarcastically.

  As he lowered himself into her low, sporty-car seats and wiggled to make himself comfortable, he snarled, “Yeah, damn pissant kids in my complex. Had the nerve to egg my truck overnight.”

  She tried and failed to smother a laugh. It came out instead as a cough. “Crime is rampant on the streets.”

  “I’m telling you, people are going crazy. Or, more than usual, anyway. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was a full moon.” Since he was a Werewolf, he always had an innate sense of the moon’s cycles.

  “Don’t I know it.” She drove from the parking lot in her usual speedy manner. Damn the Vampires, but they do love their speed! He gripped the “chicken stick” without hesitation as she continued the conversation. “Do you know La Femme Bistro?”

  “You mean that fancy eating place over on 110th?”

  “That’s the place,” she agreed.

  “Thought that was a place for rich trophy wives to stuff their faces with lo-cal and vegan crap and think it’s okay to drink wine for breakfast because it’s served in orange juice? You go there?”

  “What? I like their tea.” She admitted, seeming embarrassed.

  “Okay, what about them?”

  “Well, I was there this morning and had to break up a verbal altercation. Between two twenty-something men and one of the baristas.”

  “It’s hard to think of too many twenty-something young men who would be caught dead in a place like that. No offense. I mean, unless they were gay. And still, even that doesn’t make sense.”

  “That was my thought as well.” She switched lanes rapidly to avoid a slow-moving vehicle. “But according to Mari, the barista, this isn’t the first similar incident this week. She said the first time, it was a group of the rich and snooty having a bit of a slap fest and hair pulling over a bunch of stupid tarts.”

  “What’s tart?” He was confused, thinking tart beverages probably wouldn’t sell well.

  “No, tarts. Used as a noun, not adjective. A tart is a pastry. And apparently there weren’t enough to go around.”

  “They started pulling hair because of food?” He was surprised.

  “It takes all kinds,” she said.

  “Apparently.”

  As she pulled over to the side of the road and turned on her hazard flashers and her LED lights, he said, “Hey, I was stuck in traffic not too far from here. This is our call?”

  “Yeah, road rage, according to witnesses.”

  “This is why I was late to work.” He fumed. “Can you believe this shit?”

  “Well, believe it pal. We got work to do.”

  They got out of the car and walked about half a block to the scene of the crime. It looked like a war zone. Cars were nose-to-rear and inching along the already-baking pavement of the road, honking with sharp bleats. A tan and white cruiser was parked at an angle behind two vehicles that had obviously been involved in the accident. One was a truck, parked nearly sideways and half on the sidewalk, the other, a small economy car, sat on one flat tire, steam and antifreeze pouring from under the hood. The driver’s window of the car was shattered, glass scattered out across the street, the morning sunlight causing it to twinkle as they approached.

  Colton observed blood on the side of the car, running down the paint in long rivulets and already turning brown in the heat. The door panel under the window was dented and the paint was cracked. Blood stained the gray interior of the driver’s seat. It was obvious this had been the scene of vicious violence.

  A uniformed officer stood on the sidewalk near the truck, standing guard over a handcuffed man who was sitting cross-legged on the curb. Lacey approached the uniform and flashed her badge. His shoulders straightened with a snap. “Lieutenant.”

  “What’s the story here?” Lacey demanded.

  “The victim’s on his way to the hospital.”

  “Injuries? From the accident?” Colton wanted to know.

  “No, sir,” the uniform replied. “The accident wasn’t what caused his injuries. The other driver, this guy, nearly beat him to death.”

  2

  We cannot see things that stare us in the face until the hour comes that the mind is ripened. ~~Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Lacey threw her partner a look. “Are you serious?” She asked of the uniform.

  “Yes, ma’am. Driver of the truck says the victim was too close to him, and when he put on his brakes the car hit him.” He glanced down at the suspect. “They pulled over so other traffic could get by, and the victim dialed 911. That should have been the end of it.”

  “But?” Colton prompted the other man.

  “This guy lost it.” The uniformed man’s expression clearly showed his disgust. “Road rage times ten. Witnesses say he kicked the victim’s car door, smashed the window, and dragged the other man out onto the street. Where he then proceeded to pummel him like a madman. Several witnesses in other vehicles saw it, but they said they were plain shocked at first, so it took several minutes before anyone came to his aid. By that point, the victim had two black eyes, probably a broken nose, and other injuries.”

  “What do you have to say for yourself?” Lacey demanded of the man sitting on the curb.

  “I don’t have to say n
othing!” His tone was belligerent. “You fascist pigs can do whatever you want with me. I know my rights!” He appeared to be on the verge of a loud and pointless rant.

  “You know your rights?” Colton snarled, causing the prisoner to recoil. “Then maybe you’re familiar with this one: you have the right to remain silent! Start by exercising that one.” He said it with such a growl that the hair on the back of Lacey’s neck stood on end. Even the officer shuddered.

  No, I don’t have to!” The man bellowed at Colton, obviously unaware of the warning his red face heralded. “You can’t make me!”

  Lacey exchanged another glance with Colton, this time placing her hand on his arm as a way of calming her partner down. Though she still felt just a hint of revulsion, it was far easier to do than she ever imagined it would be. Easier than it would have been a short time ago. “Get him in your vehicle,” she ordered the uniform. “Have his truck towed to impound.”

  “Yes, sir.” The man answered smartly, then wrestled the suspect off the ground. Handcuffs didn’t prevent the man from putting up a fight, and before she knew it, Colton was in the middle of the struggle. It took both him and the officer to get the prisoner into the back of the tan and white cruiser, but they finally accomplished the task. The man continued his tirade even after they’d closed him into the police car, where he promptly began to bash his head against the side window.

  The uniform’s partner, a middle-aged woman, ran to assist. Lacey stepped in their direction as well, but it was difficult enough for the three of them to maneuver. The female officer opened up the opposite back door and held the prisoner with a muscular arm around the neck, preventing him from banging his head. The other uniformed officer had retrieved a bright orange foam helmet from the trunk of the vehicle, and Colton held the suspect’s legs down until the officer had secured the helmet around the man’s head. For good measure, they also looped an adjustable strap around the man’s ankles, with the loose end passed under the back door to Colton. Once the vehicle doors were closed, the strap held the man’s ankles tightly, in an effort to ensure he didn’t kick out the cruiser’s windows.

  “God, what is it about people?” The female officer asked the world in general. “Is it a full moon?”

  Her sentiment was so close to what Colton had said earlier, that it made Lacey take a step back, thinking of other recent events. It did seem like the usual sort of craziness, and the hike in crime that usually accompanied the cycle of the full moon, yet she had noticed the bizarre behavior for well over six weeks now. “If it is, it’s the longest full moon in recorded history.” Her dry comment earned her a sideways grin from the other woman.

  “You’ve got that right, sister.” The other woman agreed. “You want for us to take this guy downtown?” She obviously realized Lacey’s car had no cage installed.

  “Sure, get him booked in. We’ll come talk to him after we’ve interviewed the vic. Medical City, I assume?”

  “Where else?” She responded with a shrug.

  Lacey called to Colton. “Let’s get over to Medical City,” she told him. “The light is getting to me.”

  Though it was barely after eight in the morning, the sun was already bearing down on them relentlessly, pelting them with ultraviolet radiation and pumping heat off everything around them. Contrary to myth and old movies, Vampires could be out during the light of day, but did not prefer to, as the sun’s rays scalded their skin like a human with sunburn. So it would not bother her in the least to get back into her vehicle and make the trip over to one of the city’s busiest hospitals.

  Once they were strapped in and the air conditioning was blasting, a concession to her partner who could easily become overheated, she said, “This sort of craziness is going on all over the city. It’s different, I don’t think I’ve ever seen things this bad.”

  “Oh, come on,” he replied as he squirmed in his seat. “Crime is crime, it’s everywhere.”

  “You’re right, but some of this is so odd. Like people are cracking at the slightest provocation.”

  “Yeah, well, most people are bat guano crazy anyway.”

  She laughed so hard she had to put the vehicle onto auto drive. “I’m going to have to remember that. ‘Bat guano crazy’. That’s hilarious!”

  He looked down at his feet, and she guessed a revelation was coming. “Once, I kind of made that up for at home. Becca yells at me if I swear around the kids.”

  Lacey tried to get a grip on her laughter, not wanting to completely alienate her partner. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. But that took me by surprise.”

  “Glad I could be your comic relief, Little Sister.”

  She was still secretly pleased by his new nickname for her, a gentle reminder between the two of them of the partnership they began to forge after he saved her life during their last big case. The way he looked at it, he told her, was that she was his partner, meaning she was part of his pack now, a pack sister.

  When she first learned she would be partnered with him, she fought tooth and nail against the brass. However, she was not successful in getting him removed from the unit. Then, she discovered that his ancestor group had been the pack that killed her entire family in Greece five hundred years ago, and she swore to never work another case with him. She even went to the commander in hopes of getting herself reassigned. Her boss refused her request, and sent her to the department’s psychologist, Dr. Dilorenzo, who was helping her to work through the incident and to overcome her demons. Though human drugs usually used for post-traumatic stress would not work on the biology of a Vampire, she and Dr. D both felt she was making some progress.

  It didn’t take long before they arrived at the bustling complex housing Medical City hospital and care center. As always, Lacey paused before stepping up to the automatic doors, giving herself a moment to prepare for the assault of human blood on her sense of smell. For this very reason, Vampires were rarely found working in the health care field, unless it was in some discipline such as psychology or psychiatry, as in the case of Dr. Dilorenzo. The scent of human blood was akin to methamphetamines or opiates to a drug-addicted human.

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  Colton watched her as she stopped right before entering the medical facility. During their last case, when they had a reason to interview a subject in the hospital, she mentioned that she didn’t care for them. It took him one or two swift breaths before he realized what she meant. Even though he wasn’t primed to hunt only humans for their blood, as she was, his heightened sense of smell easily picked up the coppery smell, as well as the smell of sweat, body odor, and all the other things that humans with their limited senses could never understand.

  So this time he stopped and gave her a moment to herself, waiting until she walked through the doors before stepping in behind her. As his newest “pack sister”, she had earned that much respect from him. More than that, her actions during their big Skinwalker case won his trust in her, now it was time for him to turn the tables. He wanted nothing more than for Lacey to fully trust him. He understood the feelings of betrayal that she felt on learning that his pack, his ancestors, were the ones responsible for her family’s death so long ago. When they were first partnered up, he thought she was already aware of the connection.

  Lacey stepped up to the emergency room information desk, which was manned by an unfamiliar young man wearing glasses. She pulled her badge and asked for their victim’s room number.

  The man typed rapidly, the keys ringing musically under his fingers. “They have him in Trauma 3,” he said finally.

  After thanking him, Lacey beckoned her partner down the long hallway.

  “I’m surprised that what’s-her-name isn’t here,” he commented.

  “You mean Jenna?” She referred to their Skinwalker unsub’s girlfriend, whom they had interviewed during that case.

  “Yeah, that’s her.”

  “I talked to her the day we arrested Blyge. She mentioned something about wanting to move back up north
somewhere. Closer to her family, I think.”

  “But the case hasn’t even gone to court yet.”

  “Yes, I know.” Lacey made a turn at the end of the hallway, using the flat of her hand to push the square button for the automatic doors that would allow them into the recesses of the emergency room. “But she may not even be called to testify, and even if she is, most likely it can be done via a recorded deposition.”

  “True. She sure didn’t wait very long, did she?”

  “Do you blame her?” Lacey’s voice was bland.

  “Not really.”

  At the nurse’s station, they stopped and waited until they gained the attention of one of the uniformed staff members. The matronly woman was walking behind the counter with her arms filled with linens.

  “Can I help you?” Her voice had the distinctive Texas accent.

  Lacey flashed her badge as she spoke, and Colton followed suit. “We’re looking for the victim of the car accident and assault; he would have come in by ambulance within the last 30 minutes. They said he was in Trauma 3.”

  “Oh, right. Let me get his nurse, I’m not sure if they’re ready to have anyone in there.”

  While she was gone, Lacey waited with the patient stillness that a Vampire could express, and the entire time Colton wanted nothing more than to pace up and down the narrow walkway. He folded his hands on the smooth counter top, clenching his fingers to avoid tapping and giving away his impatience. He tried and failed to mimic Lacey’s tranquility. She gave him a quick glance and a small smile, as if trying to encourage him. Maybe the brass is right. Maybe pairing me up with her is a good thing. He took several deep breaths.

  Several minutes went by before the orderly returned. “They’re still working on him,” she told them. “But the doc has a moment to talk to you. Go on down, last room on the left.”

  They approached the frosted glass separating the hallway from Trauma Room 3. The loud sounds of barked orders and beeping machines could be heard, but they could see only shadows through the opaque glass. Lacey tapped on the door hard enough to gain the attention of someone inside. The door slid open and Dr. Matthews stepped into the hall.