“For me, it’s love. I use love to keep the power inside me in check. Each Reaper has his or her own way.”
“But I don’t know how to find it.” He stood and began to pace the small confines of their hotel room. “There must be an easier way.”
“It’s the only way.” Ling’s tone dropped the temperature in the room ten degrees. “You must seek inside yourself the true way. If you can’t get a hold of yourself and your emotions, I may have to look elsewhere for an apprentice.”
Grasping at a tenuous thread of restraint from deep inside, Xiong took several deep breaths and tried to count to ten. It was several moments before he was able to speak again. “Wait, I’m sorry, my love. Will you forgive me?”
In answer, she took his face in her hands and kissed him with a passion that increased as each second passed. His erection was again instantaneous, as it seemed it always was whenever he was with this exotic woman. Within moments, they were locked together and tangled in the bed sheets, and his thoughts were full of nothing but Ling.
9
The infectiousness of crime is like that of the plague. ~~Napoleon Bonaparte
Lacey sighed in frustration, unable to fully comprehend what she was reading. Which meant another call to the department’s number one profiler, Marcell. Though she spent nearly an hour reading through his report on Stetson Sorby, the man accused of the assault on poor John Pope, she couldn’t understand much of it. Though it galled her to do so, she picked up the phone and dialed his extension from memory.
“Dr. Dilorenzo.”
“Good morning, doctor.” The niceties were a long-ingrained habit.
“Well, good morning to you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?”
“Translate this report, for one thing.”
His chuckle irritated her. “What are you having difficulty with?”
“Gee, let’s see, what am I having difficulty with?” She mocked, half in seriousness. “Oh, yeah. Most of it.”
She could hear his fingers marching across his laptop keys, and Lacey knew he was pulling up the report on his system. “Let me take you through it section by section.”
“Wait a minute, doctor. All I need to know, is Sorby competent to take to trial?”
“He is, and he isn’t.”
“Okay, that’s where I’m having a problem.”
“Yes, I thought you might.” Marcell took a deep breath. “My findings in this evaluation are very puzzling, even to me. It’s going to be a difficult case to prove if his counsel tries to plead insanity.”
“Do you think he’s even thinking of it?” Lacey wasn’t familiar with attorney Cummings, and she wondered if Marcell had any dealings with the man in court in previous cases.
“Oh, I believe Delbert specializes in it, if that’s even a possibility. Now, I’ve dealt with him many times before, when the department has called me in as an expert witness to refute his psychologist’s findings. He’s like a dog with a bone, especially once he gets even a hint of anything resembling ‘I felt like I lost my mind’ from a client.”
“Great.” This case was turning out like a bad case of stomach indigestion. “Give me a quick rundown of what you found regarding the suspect.”
“He scored just above average on the Stanford-Binet scale.” The psychologist referred to the standard test measuring IQ. “He has a clear sense of what is right and wrong. My deeper study revealed that he flat out doesn’t care.”
“Explain.” Lacey was afraid she would have to start taking notes like a student back in school.
“See, I asked the subject repeatedly if he thought it was right for him to beat the victim so severely for causing minor damage to his truck. Each time, he said he knew it was wrong. Then, after asking several unrelated questions, I asked if he felt any remorse or guilt over causing the other driver such injury. His answer was always no. In fact, a few times he asked why I thought he should feel guilty.”
“Almost as if it was his right to do so, as if he were the injured party.”
“Exactly.” He sounded pleased that she caught on. “However, his answers so disturbed me that I took it a step further and administered an MMPI-2RF test. This is a good way for psychologists to measure any dysfunction within a subject’s personality. Giving him this extra test is why my report to you was delayed.”
“What were the results?”
“Well, I was rather surprised at some of them.” He paused and she could hear his computer keys clacking cheerfully. “On Scale 4, which measures psychopathy, he was found to be extremely resistant to authority, and he presented with quite a few of the markers on Scale 8, showing that he had some unusual perceptual and emotional experiences. Sorby also tested as antisocial.”
“In English, please, doctor.”
He sighed. “He’s a borderline psychopath.”
She was even more confused. “What do you mean, borderline? Either he is, or he isn’t.”
“It’s not that simple,” Marcell replied. “I believe that what your source at the hospital theorized may well be true. Your suspect acts like what I would imagine a human without a soul would act. There are no longer any social mores, inhibitions, or conscience, for lack of a better term. He showed no impulse control, no fear of consequences, and no empathy whatsoever. However, I have reason to believe that these factors would not be as...obvious, or as strong, if he hadn’t somehow lost his human soul.”
Lacey closed her eyes. Is every single one of our cases going to be like this? She privately wondered if the Fates weren’t testing her somehow. No, it’s more that they’re laughing at me! “So, what is your recommendation, doctor?”
“Will you be very angry with me if I tell you I don’t know yet? I’ve made some calls to other highly-esteemed colleagues of mine around the world. But, I’d like a day or two for some consultations, unless you’re in a hurry to close this one.”
She checked the status of the case on her screen. “Not scheduled for hearing in the next few days,” she replied. “It seems there are some other, more urgent cases that bumped it down. So you have a little time. Just don’t take too long. We’ve got to get this guy wrapped up tight. Jerk.”
“Agreed. Now, about dinner. Where would you like to go?”
Lacey had almost forgotten about their date. “How about Platelets?” She named her favorite restaurant, an exclusive eatery that catered to Vampires and stocked many different kinds of exotic blood. Their human food was also excellent. Lacey often dined there.
“Fantastic. I’ll see you there. Say seven o’clock?”
“It’s a deal.” That would leave her enough time after work to stop by the SPCA shelter and pick up her new pet. Morgan. His name is Morgan. I’ll have to get used to that.
After hanging up the phone, she stepped out the office door and called to Colton. He extricated himself from his desk chair and came to her. “What’s up?”
“I’d like to make an unusual request. Can you pull up a report on all crime in the city? For example, crimes going back maybe a month or so?”
“What are you looking for?”
She frowned. “I’m not sure at the moment. We need to look at how many crimes have been reported, what kinds of crime, the percentage of the increase or decrease. Stuff like that.”
“Okay, I’ll get right on it. Did the head shrinker shed any light on our suspect?”
“No, I’m pretty sure he has made our case that much worse.”
Her partner groaned. “Perfect.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Tell me about it.” She then proceeded to fill him in.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
“You’re not making any sense!” His voice made it clear that he was frustrated. “He’s either competent to stand trial or not.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” she said, trying to calm him. “I don’t pretend to understand it all. But, I’m sure our department’s top profilers do, so we need to leave this to them for the time being.”
“So, wha
t are we supposed to do now? Just sit on our ass and wait for them to figure out what to do about this scumbag?” He paced the tiny confines of his partner’s office.
“We do what we were doing. Continue to do our research, and try to build more evidence.”
“But if this guy turns out being a Reaper on the rampage, how can we build a case? I mean, there could be hundreds of victims out there who don’t even know they’re victims!”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I asked you for the latest crime data. How’s that going, by the way?”
He snorted. “It’s still compiling. At least I think it is. The little status window on my laptop says it is.” He walked back to his desk as she followed. “Of course, that could just be a hack our lovable IT guys put in place to make us THINK it’s doing something.”
She smiled at that. “Well, let me know when it finishes. If it finishes.” She went back to her office, leaving him to sit at his desk and brood.
Watching the green progress bar on his screen did nothing to improve his mood. So, while he was waiting for it, he went back to the internet and continued his search into the myths and legends of Reapers.
His phone rang. “Detective Scarber.”
“Hi, honey.” His wife’s musical voice made him smile.
“Hey, Becca. What’s up?”
“I wanted to call to ask if you would bring home some meat for dinner.”
“Sure. Anything in particular?”
“No, bring home whatever you like. How’s it going?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Frustrating. You know I’m not supposed to talk about it in detail. But I have cause to be researching Reapers, and you wouldn’t believe how much crap is out there about them.”
“I’d imagine so.” Her voice conveyed her sympathy. “The humans have an odd preoccupation with death and what happens after, so I’m sure that they’ve written about it from the beginning of recorded history. Why are you looking it up, or can’t you tell me?”
“No, I can’t. For now.” He knew his wife would understand. “But part of the problem is, I don’t know what parts of it are true and what parts are simply myth or legend.”
“Well, you have to remember that most myths began with a grain of truth.”
Before she gave birth to their kids, his wife was a high school psychology and mythology teacher. She still maintained her teaching license and took online classes to keep it up. “What do you mean?” He was curious.
“People write what they know,” she told him. “Hold on a sec.” Colton could hear the scratchy sound of her covering the phone, then a muffled, “Behave yourselves when I’m on the phone!” He grinned as he wondered what his kids were doing this time. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I know you’ve got your hands full. So, what were you saying?”
“Oh, yeah. Consider how the art of human civilization originated. The first human populations lived in caves in many places across the world, and the oldest known cave paintings are images of animals, birds, insects, and other people, and hunting scenes. Artists drew or painted what they saw. When the written word evolved, the authors wrote what they knew. Sure, they put their own slant or embellishments on it, but they borrowed from their own experiences.”
“Interesting,” he said. “Though I don’t know how much that will help me now.”
“Go back to the beginning.” Becca made a suggestion. “You might get closer to the truth that way.”
“Yeah, but where’s the beginning?” He snapped it out, then immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry, I’m just frustrated.”
“I know you are. It’s hard to figure out where to start. The popular skeletal character wearing a black cloak didn’t actually come into being until sometime in the 15th century, and most scholars agree it was due to the Black Plague. So, if I were you, I would go a bit further back than that.”
“But won’t most of that be made-up stories? With no evidence to back it up?”
“Maybe. But maybe not. You won’t know until you see it. I’ll help you some when you get home, if you want.”
Colton thought he might do that. It never occurred to him that Becca, with her education in world mythology, might be a viable source he could tap. And he wouldn’t need to tell her the details of the case; they could always talk about it as hypothetical. But what he said was, “Sure, I’d like that, if I maybe didn’t have other plans of what to do with you when I get home.” He loved teasing his wife.
“Shame on you.” She scolded, but he could hear that she was pleased.
“Love you, Becca.”
He didn’t often say so when he was at work, and he knew she was surprised. “I love you too, baby.”
“See you soon.” He hung up the phone, and glanced over his shoulder, trying to see if anyone had overheard. And jumped out of his skin; Lacey was standing right behind his desk chair. “Jesus Christ! You’re going to give me a heart seizure!”
She stepped back a tiny bit, almost as if she was afraid. But her lips twitched. “Sorry. You were too busy making lovey-lovey with your wife to hear me. Or, I certainly hope it was your wife. Otherwise, I might have to hurt you, Big Brother.”
“Watch it, Little Sister.” Though his heart was still racing, he gave her a crooked grin. “I’m tougher than I look.”
“Yeah, right. Saddle up, we got a call.”
“Really? Now what?”
She shrugged. “Dispatch said something about a drunken brawl. Uniforms are on their way to the scene.”
He followed her from the bullpen. “What? It’s not even noon!”
“Well, it’s five o’clock somewhere.”
He couldn’t believe it. “You’re pulling my leg, right?”
Mildly, she retorted, “Why would I want to do that? I might catch your Wolf germs.”
“Seriously?” He struggled to keep pace with her as they crossed the parking garage. “What the hell is wrong with everyone in this city?”
“I think we’re getting a step closer to proving a theory as truth.” Her car’s alarm bleeped as she unlocked the doors.
“Damn it.” Colton grunted as he lowered himself down to the car seat and folded his long legs inside before closing the door. She hit the siren, and tires squealed as she floored the accelerator. He closed his eyes and prayed, wondering if her driving would be easier on him if he didn’t look at where they were going. His stomach rolled as the car turned sharply, then the horsepower punched him back into the seat. Involuntarily, he yelped.
When he cracked open his eyes, Colton saw cars flashing past his window at a dizzying speed. He wanted to ask his partner to slow down, but was afraid that his voice would squeak. The quick yelp-yelp of Lacey’s siren kept pace with his pulse, and he heard a rushing sound in his ears. He peeked at the analog speedometer and regretted it. Jesus, 150MPH? Is she trying to kill us both before we get there? He thought of Becca, and was glad he had the chance to tell her he loved her.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
The speed didn’t bother Lacey in the least. She had too much experience as a driver to doubt her own abilities, and she loved to drive fast. Usually, she did it because she knew it irritated her partner, but this time, the urgent nature of the call warranted it. Lacey knew the patrol officers would beat them to the scene, but from the way it sounded, they might need all the help they could get. She whipped around some slower moving traffic on the highway, moving to the left-hand lane. Glancing over at Colton, she noticed his pale face.
“You’re not about to puke all over my car, Big Brother.” The nickname rolled off her tongue a little easier each time.
“Please.” His voice sounded raspy. “I can stomach your driving, Little Sister.”
Seeing that they were now a few minutes from the call location, she let up on the gas a bit. The powerful car slowed, the needle slowing to just a hair over one hundred. She hoped it was slow enough for her partner. “Maybe I should make you drive once in a while.”
The image of her ridi
ng in his aged, and likely slow, pickup truck must have amused him. For a moment, he seemed to forget he was uncomfortable. “Maybe you should. That way, I could show you how normal people drive. Or are supposed to.”
Lacey snorted. “Who wants to be normal?”
“Do you like being an Immortal?”
She was a bit surprised, then realized he’d blurted it out without thinking. Trying to ease his discomfort with a conversation, she said, “Yeah, I do.” No one had ever asked her the question before, and though she never thought about it, she did enjoy her Immortal existence. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious, more than anything. Though I’ve heard of some Immortals who really, really wanted to die, and some of them tried hard to do it.”
“We both know there are many ways Immortals can be killed,” she said. Not only did she know from her own experience when Colton’s ancestors murdered her family, but the justice systems of the world had been turned on their ears when it came to death penalties involving Immortal convicted criminals.
“I know, but I mean, say you got tired of it all. Seriously, everyone you know will live and die and others will take their place. If you just wanted to end it, would you?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think I could. I’m not sure how to explain it, but...”
“What?” He spoke up when she didn’t continue.
“Well, I have a feeling that we’re here for a specific reason.”
“As in, all Immortals have some reason for being here?”
“Exactly.” She was relieved he caught on quickly.
“Do you believe in God?”
Zipping down the highway off-ramp, she thought a moment before she answered. “I believe in something. Not to get religious or anything, but something out there generated all the energy of the Universe. Science has taught us that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, but simply changed. Changed into what, we may not know. So, the energy that makes us all up must change into something else in the end. It’s a fundamental law of the known Universe.”
Souls of the Reaper Page 10