“After work, I went over to Baylor, to the medical library. The first book recommended to me was co-authored by your friend, Doctor Ingold. I had difficulty with a lot of the medical lingo, but the general gist, as I understood it, was that the human soul has to be escorted to the Underworld, or maybe more like a middle world, so they can move on to whatever awaits them. See, I think it’s a way to prepare them for reincarnation. Anyway, it’s obviously imperative for the soul to be escorted, else it be lost. Ghost stories sometimes aren’t just stories told to frighten people, I gather.”
“Why does this bother you?”
“It’s difficult to explain.” She took a sip of the exotic blood, enjoying the flavor before it cooled. “If, for whatever reason, the human souls are so important to the balance of the universe, why is it that Reapers don’t simply tell them so? Don’t you think, maybe, the behavior of the humans would improve if they knew how important they are?”
“I think, at one point in human history, they were aware of their importance. At least, to some extent. But humans have such a large ego. Already they think they’re in full control of the planet, yet they still marginally control their environment. The parts they don’t destroy, that is. It’s possible if they were given the full information about their connection to the universe, it would cause them to become completely self-important.” Marcell, too, drank from his goblet.
“Aren’t they already? They already think that everything on this planet was put here for their exploitation. All the plants, the animals, the fish in the oceans.” She drank again, savoring the taste of the blood that was so important to the symbiotic virus coursing through her body. “But, let’s not talk about that right now. It’s not good conversation.”
“So, tell me something interesting about you, something not related to work or your therapy.”
She smiled. “I have adopted a dog.”
“You did? What kind?”
She would have blushed had it been possible. Instead, she pulled out her phone and showed him pictures of the brindle bulldog. “He was a seizure in my dog fighting bust. One of the SPCA officers, Paul Kelso, told me even though they don’t euthanize fighting dogs like they used to, it’s still difficult to place them. They do behavioral analyses on them and make sure to place them into homes with people educated on dog fighting. Or, in my case, someone strong enough to deal with them.”
“What compelled you to do this?”
“I never had a pet. As a child, I lived during a time when animals were food or transportation or for pulling a plow. It was hard enough to feed a family, much less an extra animal who wasn’t there to pull their weight.”
“Understandable.”
The waitress came back to take their order, and Lacey resumed the conversation after the woman went away. “And, had it not been for Aegon ‘Turning’ me, I would have died from the plague. I never had the choice to have a child, and I guess it’s something that’s been on my mind lately. Maybe it’s because Colton’s always talking about his kids. Anyway, I thought about having the feeling that some other being was depending on me. I assumed you would be happy about it.”
“We’re not in therapy, Lacey. And, I’m very excited for you. This may be an excellent way for you to open up, just a bit. Tell me about your dog.”
So, Lacey launched into a monologue about her new pet, while Marcell listened with a look of intensity on his face. He even laughed when Lacey told him about her housekeeper taking time from her work to toss a tennis ball for Morgan.
“Look, I don’t know a thing about keeping a dog,” she went on. “But, I can learn. And, you know, it’s kind of nice to have someone to come home to.” She told Marcell about her trip to the pet store, and how she ended up buying one of just about everything to keep the dog healthy and entertained.
Marcell laughed. “You might end up with the world’s most spoiled pet. I assume he’s well-trained? Housebroken?”
“He seems to be. I had a dog door installed, and I had to show it to him once or twice before he started using it on his own. As a fighting dog, he would have to have some training.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true. How does it make you feel, to have a living creature depending on you for all his needs?”
She shrugged, leaning back from the table as their food was served. “Good, I suppose. It’s taking some getting used to having him underfoot all the time. But, he’s okay.”
“I would have mentioned this in therapy if I’d known you were considering a pet. But I think it’s an excellent way to open yourself up, as you begin to heal from your ordeal.”
Marcell referred to the night she and her coven family had fought a rogue pack of Werewolves, an incident that she alone had survived. She still had nightmares about it, but the department enforced therapy was helping her to overcome the event. To make matters worse, Colton was a descendant of that pack, a fact she learned well after they were partnered.
Lacey took a bite of the shrimp and Alfredo pasta she ordered. “Mmm. This is good.”
Marcell, evidently taking her statement as a change of the subject, tried his own meal, a large and rare T-bone steak with baked potato. Together, they enjoyed the rest of their meal in quiet companionship.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
When she returned home that night, she spent nearly an hour throwing an already ratty tennis ball for Morgan, watching as the dog gleefully retrieved it time and time again. Her date with Marcell turned out quite enjoyable, and before they left Platelets, he mentioned he would like to see her again. Lacey was still hesitant about getting close to another being, though she did think that having Morgan around would help her in that regard. She laughed at the goofy dog as he ran up to her again, dropped the ball at her feet, and grinned up at her with his tongue hanging to one side, bouncing up and down as he panted, giving him a lopsided appearance.
The next morning, Lacey’s head was still spinning after slogging through several of the books the librarian at Baylor had recommended. She went to work expecting to dump it off on Colton and Kazz. There’s a perk to being the boss! When she arrived at her office, however, she discovered Niall was already there.
“You’re early.” She tossed her keys and shoulder bag on the table near the door. “Is everything okay?”
“No, I’m anxious to get it over with. This has me deeply disturbed. I must admit, I couldn’t sleep well last night for thinking of it. The ramifications, not for the humans alone, but for all the Reapers of the world.”
“Yes, it’s not going to be pretty when this gets out to the general public.” Lacey sat down behind her desk. “And I can imagine the hate crimes that this will create.”
“Hundreds of Reapers, likely tortured, then killed.” He shook his head. “And the loss of some, or all, of the souls he’s stolen. That is a travesty.”
Lacey studied the doctor. “What is so important about the souls, anyway?”
“We may never know. Even my trainer didn’t know the answer to that question. Perhaps we’re not meant to know. We are, after all, only here as guides.”
To try to take his mind off things, Lacey began talking about some of the thing she learned during her trip to the medical library. “I saw there has actually been medical imaging done of a Reaper while traveling to harvest a soul. It was quite a unique glimpse into something totally foreign to me.”
Niall seemed relieved at the turn the conversation took. “Yes, I’ve seen those studies. Of course, when a Reaper travels, we cannot see ourselves in that way. So, it was interesting to see the measurable energy traces, and the tether, in a new light.”
Suddenly, her phone rang. “Excuse me. Anderson.” She tugged her tablet from her pocket. “Yes, of course. I’ll be down in 15 minutes.” Lacey held up one finger to Niall and stepped from the office, looking for Colton. He was just walking into the bullpen. “Colton, come here.”
“Morning. Already busy?”
“Maybe Niall here can help you out with some of your research. Meanwhile, I
got a call that one of the bar brawler’s attorneys is here, wanting to talk to his client and to me. I’m going to take Kazz with me, give her a little seasoning about questioning a suspect. Thought maybe you’d keep Niall company while I’m gone.” She lowered her voice. “I think he’s a little upset about the whole thing.”
“I got this, boss. You go play brown-nose to the shark, I mean, lawyer.”
She grinned. “Hey Kazz.”
The young woman’s head popped up from behind her cubicle. “Sir?” She blushed. “I mean, Lacey? What’s up?”
“You’re with me.” She gestured to the woman, who fell into step behind her.
While riding the elevator down to the bottom floor, where prisoners would be escorted from the jail in the basement to meet with their legal counsel, Lacey briefed Kazz on the bar fight call she and Colton caught right before the other woman came over to the Unit. “So, I think we should assume that these guys are also victims, though we have no way to prove it.”
“So, what’s the deal? We going to interview one?”
“The suspect’s attorney has requested a meeting. I have no idea what it’s about. We’ll find out when we get there. But I wanted you along so you could learn, and because I wanted a second pair of eyes and ears.”
“I could give you dog ears or human ears.” Her lips quivered. “It’s a quirk.”
Lacey laughed. “That could be a good one, but I’m not sure it would be helpful to our case.”
“Well, then, I guess I’ll refrain. For now.”
Having Kazz on the team is proving to be more interesting than I thought! “You know, Kazz, you’re one of a kind!” Lacey grinned.
“I know.” It was said matter-of-fact, with no hint of superiority, and Lacey grew to like the younger woman even more.
They entered the interrogation cell, and Lacey’s heart sank as she recognized the suspect’s legal counsel. It was Delbert Cummings, the same lawyer who was also retained by the perpetrator in their first case, Stetson Sorby. Lacey recalled what Marcell told her about the man, and fervently hoped that he wasn’t going to try to plead insanity.
“Lieutenant.” Cummings sneered it.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Cummings. Officer Moss.”
Kazz waited until Lacey sat to follow suit.
“I have a proposition for you, Lieutenant.” The lawyer appeared puffed up in his cheap suit and high-dollar briefcase. He opened the case and pulled out a thick file.
“And who is your client?” Lacey asked, turning on her tablet.
“This is Duff Verge, and he’d like a plea bargain in exchange for information.”
“What sort of information?” Lacey slid her eyes to the man in the bright orange jumpsuit.
The slimy-looking man, his dirty blond hair tangled in many places, leaned over to whisper into his counsel’s ear. The attorney nodded. “I heard you busted up a dog ring the other day.” The prisoner leaned as far forward as his shackled wrists would allow. “I bet you think that was all there was to it. But, that was a minor little thing.” He looked at his lawyer again, continuing when the man nodded a second time. “There’s a much bigger one out there. Head honcho wasn’t there that day, on account of some other family business.”
The way the prisoner stressed the word ‘family’ led Lacey to believe he was talking about one of the many gangs still plaguing the streets of Dallas. Gangs started calling themselves families decades ago, catering to the hordes of youngsters growing up in poverty-stricken neighborhoods, and often from broken homes. The idea of a family was presented in a shining light to these poor adolescents, and many of them flocked to gangs. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, unimpressed. “You know I’m not the one to be talking to about making deals. That’s the DA’s territory.”
“Yes, of course, Lieutenant. But the arresting officer in charge must be amenable to it, and you’re the one the DA is going to ask about the case.” The attorney answered with an air of haughtiness. Lacey got the impression the man thought he was better than anyone else in the room.
“The DA’s going to need more than you telling me you have information. And generally speaking, it must be information leading to an arrest. You wouldn’t get an offer of a deal until your intel is checked out.”
“The info’s good all right.” The prisoner’s extreme southern twang grated on Lacey like fingernails on a chalkboard.
Lacey shook her head. “The DA will be the one to rule on that. My opinion won’t sway them one way or another. But I’ll make a notation in your file before you go for arraignment.” She stood and jerked her chin at Kazz, who hadn’t said a word the entire time.
“Thank you for your time, Lieutenant.” The lawyer’s voice was again snooty.
Lacey left the interrogation room with Kazz behind her, and waited until they were in the elevator again before speaking. “So why do I feel that was a complete waste of my time?”
“I think it was, Lieutenant. But really, it was a little bit scary, and exciting too. Will you take his story to the DA?”
“The law requires me to. That doesn’t mean the DA has to accept a plea. What I said about my opinion not mattering was a little bit of a misdirection. And his counsel knew it.”
“If you can use his information to bring down some more of those dog fighting bastards, I say go for it.” She slid her eyes to Lacey, as if afraid she would be dressed down for cursing. When Lacey was silent, Kazz went on. “Of course, I may be a bit biased.”
“Only a bit?” Lacey couldn’t stop the grin that quirked at the corners of her mouth.
15
I do not believe in the collective wisdom of individual ignorance. ~~Thomas Carlyle
Lacey was steamed that Marcell would not allow either her or Colton in his office while Niall was attempting to trace the astral umbilical from their suspect, and suspected victim, to the Reaper who everyone believed was responsible for the growing chaos in their city, and world-wide. No matter how much she argued with him, the psychologist stood firm. At one point in time, she threatened to call the commander, saying the commander would back her up. Marcell finally relented, and allowed the two corrections officers who escorted the prisoner to remain in the office. He did point out, however, that if Lacey or any other member of the team were present during the evaluation, the suspect’s counsel might well consider it a violation of his client’s right to representation.
Lacey saw the logic in that, if nothing else. She paced back and forth in the short hallway leading to Marcell’s office, while Colton and Kazz looked on. Her long strides took her from one side of the hall to the other quickly, and Kazz seemed on the verge of getting whiplash as her head whipped back and forth, tracking her superior. Colton watched with his thumbs hooked in his pockets for a while, then silently slipped away.
When he returned, Colton carried a cardboard drink tray with three paper cups topped with white plastic lids. One he gave to Kazz, the other to Lacey. She took a deep breath and indulged herself in the scent of her favorite tea, chai. She was never a coffee drinker, though she understood her partner’s obsession with the highly-caffeinated beverage. The small amount of caffeine, whether in coffee or the tea, would have no effect on her system. The symbiotic virus, Vampirococcus hominidus, kept her heart beating at the most efficient rate; it didn’t matter if she were sleeping or running a marathon.
She almost sneered at him before remembering she wasn’t angry with her partner. “Thanks.” Lacey’s lips hovered over the cup.
Kazz looked at her cup. “Sweet and light?”
“That’s how you take it, right?”
“You got it.”
Colton took his own cup and said, “Same here.”
They drank in companionable silence for a while, until Lacey couldn’t stand still any longer. Again, she paced up and down the hall. Every so often, she would pull her tablet from her pocket and check the time. Colton leaned against the wall as if the wait didn’t bother him at all.
Look at us, Lacey thought in disgust. Seems like our roles have reversed! Me, being wound up like a spring, him the epitome of calm. The thought sobered her, and caused her to take several deep breaths while counting to ten. It didn’t make her feel any more relaxed.
Suddenly, the office door opened, and all eyes turned toward Marcell as he stepped out, followed by two corrections officers leading the suspect, who seemed to be a bit woozy. They led him in the direction of the elevator while Marcell gestured to the team. He looked a bit haggard himself.
“Please, come in.”
Rather than going to his desk, Marcell sat in the armchair next to the long couch, where Niall was sitting with his head in his hands. He looked like he’d been run over by a truck, and that statement was being polite. The three other team members took seats on the couch next to him, and awaited the results.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
He was exhausted. The ordeal drained a lot of energy, and it didn’t net him any usable information he could give to the team. Niall was disappointed by what he was about to report.
“It’s just as I feared,” he began after everyone sat and looked expectantly at him. “The man’s soul is gone, like we suspected. His astral thread is so thin I could barely see it. And it dissipates mere feet from the physical body. Even if the Reaper let it go, I doubt the soul could find its way back to the shell now. I am sorry.” He felt like a failure, and hung his head.
“I know this must be very difficult for you.” Marcell handed him a cup of steaming tea. He took it gratefully, wrapping both ice-cold hands around it.
“Were you able to see this man’s soul? At least, some bit of it?” Lacey’s tone was harsh yet confused.
“Partly.” Niall took a sip of his tea, gathering his thoughts as he struggled to explain to them something they could never experience. “His tether is dim; his soul is losing energy the longer it’s away from the body. And the cord splits into several shards, inches from his body. They go in different directions.” He took another drink and hoped he masked the shudder that came over him. “Maybe it’s trying to go to familiar places, or find loved ones still on this plane, I’m not sure. I’ve never seen a tether fragment in this way. It’s...alarming.” To say the least, he thought.
Souls of the Reaper Page 15