THE IMMORTAL: A Novel of the Breedline series

by Shana Congrove

  Jem cast Sebastian an inquisitive look. “Are they one of the same that helped render the Fury powerless?”

  “Yes.” Sebastian nodded. “Cronus carries the sword of truth. He’s like the right hand of God.”

  “All right then,” Tim said to Sebastian, motioning in the direction of the open doorway. “Since you seem to know so much, by all means, lead the way.”

  Jem was the last one to exit the room while the others headed to speak with the battle angels. As he came out, he glanced up to see Jace waiting in the hallway with his hands shoved in his pockets. He had a concerning look on his face.

  Jem stared dully at Jace as he walked up to him and said, “Look, man, I’m sorry.” He let out a long breath. “You know I’d never intentionally hurt Mia, right? I mean, when I saw Sebastian, I just lost it. I didn’t mean to...”

  “I know,” said Jem as he gripped Jace’s shoulder. “It’s forgotten.”

  Jace grabbed his twin brother in a bear hug and lightly pounded him on the back. “Thanks, bro.”

  “Okay, ladies, enough,” Kyle said as he came down the hallway, catching a glimpse of his best friends embracing. “By my guess, this looks like an apology.” He chuckled. “So, who started the fight this time?”

  The brothers looked at one another and rolled their eyes.

  Jem waved Kyle over and said, “Follow us. We’ll explain later.”

  “Where are we going?” Kyle asked as he stood next to them.

  “To Jena’s room,” Jace told him.

  Kyle shrugged. “What for?”

  “We’re meeting the battle angels.”

  “W-what?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Debi opened her eyes with a gasp. For a brief second, she hovered between a state of unconsciousness and waking, her mind a complete whirlwind.

  Dazed and confused, she did not recognize her surroundings. Where am I? How long have I been here?

  She heard the questions, but she wasn’t sure if she’d thought it or said it aloud. Then she remembered the dark events of what had happened to the man she was engaged to marry.

  “Oh, God... Chad...”

  The horror of his death was overwhelming. The brutal attack swept through her brain: his face, all the blood, his agonizing screams, and his glassy dead eyes.

  Crumbled on her side with her knees drawn up to her chest, Debi tried to force the images out of her head. From the moment she and Chad had decided to leave Presidio Park, everything had seemed dreamlike. She remembered hearing him calling out to her, warning her, and then the sharp, piercing screams. She struggled to cut out the noise inside her head, but no matter how hard she tried, it wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t stop sobbing, couldn’t stop the shaking that wracked her body with grief and shock.

  Her pulse pounded loud in her temples. In an effort to drown it out, she clamped her hands over her ears. “Please, God,” she pleaded. “Make it stop.”

  Then, the memories of something horrible chasing her came to mind. Was it an animal or a man that had pursued her? The two impossibilities left her swirling in confusion. Was that thing still out there?

  When a distant rustling noise caught her attention, she lowered her hands and looked to the sound. In a burst of panic, she jerked upright and screamed as rats scurried on the floor around her.

  Suddenly, the stench of rotting flesh flooded through her. As Debi searched her surroundings, the only thing she could see was a horde of rats crowded around something beyond the shadows.

  She struggled to move. Her arms and legs felt stiff and sore as though she’d been to hell and back. And her throat still ached from being choked by the monster that murdered her fiancé.

  When Debi managed to get to her feet, she felt the tension draining from her muscles. As she took a step, she nearly slipped and fell. The floor seemed to be wet, coated with something thick and sticky. Peering down, she could see what looked to be a bloody trail leading out in front of her. Chills crept up her spine. Was something bleeding or injured dragged along the floor?

  She hugged herself tightly and prayed the blood was from a dead animal. The thought of that hellish beast dragging Chad’s body sickened her.

  Cautiously, she planted one foot in front of the other and moved on. Focusing on the things all around her, Debi soon recognized where she was. The hair on the back of her neck rose. She was inside a mausoleum.

  How did I get here? She feverishly thought. Did that thing bring me here?

  Not far away, the glow of candles flickered on the floor, lighting a path through the dark and damp burial chamber.

  As she slowly trudged onward, the putrid smell grew thicker. Bile rose into the back of her throat, making her gag.

  Debi stopped and quickly covered her mouth. “Dear God,” she choked.

  She flinched at the sound of approaching footsteps. They were getting closer and closer. Then suddenly, they stopped.

  Swallowing back the knot that had formed in the back of her throat, she knew at once that she wasn’t alone. That there was someone—something—waiting and watching her. She sensed someone hidden among the flickering candlelight and all the crypts that housed the dead.

  Out of nowhere, a smooth voice called out to her, “Come closer.” His voice echoed as though it was coming from all around her. “I have something you’ll want to see.”

  “Who are you?” she cried out. “What do you want?”

  His voice spoke again, louder this time. “Come here, Debi.” He seemed to be taunting her. “Your beloved is waiting.”

  A moment of silence hung between them. His words muddled her thoughts. Beloved? What did he mean?

  Her heart began to pound, leaving her breathless. “Please,” she sobbed. “I beg you... please, let me go.”

  “You can never leave,” he said with a slight, humorless laugh. “But if you promise to behave yourself, I’ll let you see your beloved again.”

  His words mocked her, filling her with doubt. Maybe Chad was still alive. Was he here... suffering... dying?

  “Chad?” she murmured, swallowing hard.

  “Yes. Chad is waiting for you.”

  “I don’t believe you!” Debi cried. “You’re lying! He’s dead!”

  Holding back her sobs, she surveyed her surroundings again, searching for a door, a window, anywhere that would lead her out of this dreadful place.

  There has to be a door, she prayed. Please, God. Help me find a way out of here.

  “There is no way out.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Come. Before it’s too late.”

  When she took a step forward, she felt something scamper over her feet. She gasped when she looked down. The floor seemed to be moving. It was then she realized that what was moving were the rats.

  She screamed and kicked at them. Squeaking in protest, the horde of rodents backed away and scuttled toward whatever was reeking of death. Desperate to block out the repulsive stench, she brought her hand up and covered her nose.

  With her nerves on pins and needles, Debi took shallow breaths and forced herself to keep moving. Though her rational side told her Chad was dead, the false hopes she had—wanting to believe he was still alive—gave her the courage to go on.

  She followed the flickering pinpoints of glittering lights that seemed to circle around something that led up a stairway.

  As she started to climb, the foul odor became more evident with each step. It was almost too much to bear.

  Debi barely made it to the top before her legs gave out.

  “No!”

  On her knees, she let out a strangled cry and covered her eyes. The concrete walls of the burial chamber echoed the sounds of her sorrow.

  Enclosed by candlelight and gnawing vermin, a scene of horror was set out before her. What was left of Chad’s body, his head practically severed, had been torn to pieces. Both arms were completely gone, chewed off at the shoulders, and one leg was missing. It seemed the only thing holding his remains together at all was threads of muscle
and tendons.

  Stricken with grief, she wrapped her arms around herself and slowly rocked back and forth. “Please, God,” she begged. “Please...”

  “God?” a guttural voice said behind her. “Do you really believe he will help you?”

  On sudden impulse, Debi whirled around on her hands and knees. What she saw was so frightening she could barely catch her breath. She felt paralyzed there, her heart pounding wildly, and her breath finally coming in short, sharp gasps.

  It was a man—his face twisting and converging into something terrifying. She watched in horror as his features formed into some kind of beast—half-man, half-wolf—with glowing eyes and thick, black, matted fur.

  As it moved toward her, she was vaguely aware of someone grabbing her from behind. The next thing she felt was a sharp sting in her left arm, and then everything started to fade and blur.

  * * *

  After Detective Manuel Sanchez showered and shaved, he was on the road before six in the morning. The rain kept a steady drizzle as he drove to the Presidio National Park to meet up with his partner, Detective Frank Perkins.

  An hour ago, he had received a call from his captain about a possible homicide and one missing person located in the vicinity. A 911 call had come in early this morning. About six miles off the park’s trails, in a thick, wooded area, a group of hikers came upon a gruesome discovery. They had reported a blanket covered in blood, one bloody tennis shoe, and a human leg. It looked to be a man’s shoe going by the size. They found it lying next to the dismembered body part. There were also clothes found nearby that were torn to pieces.

  When police got to the scene, they found a silver Toyota Camry parked alongside the road three miles from the crime scene. The registration listed Chad Morgan as the owner of the vehicle. Inside the car, police discovered a purse belonging to a female in her early twenties. Debi Flynn was the name on the license they recovered. Not far from the vehicle, police retrieved a woman’s blouse, the material tangled in a thorny bush.

  A sick feeling suddenly came over him. Manuel thought of the bodies of Sophie Turner and Todd Blackmon discovered in the Salem Cemetery and the body of Brandon Coghill of which all were ripped to shreds and half-eaten. Their deaths had been brutal, similar to the findings located in the park. Then his thoughts went to the corpse of Carla Rosi his captain and Detective Ratcliff had found. The remains were in the same open grave that Jena McCain had fallen in.

  Questions plagued his mind, giving him an unsettling sense of reality. Were all the murders connected? Could this be the same creature from years ago that murdered Carla and his sister? They were all possibilities, yet he could not shake the feeling that there was more than one supernatural creature working together and killing innocent people.

  As he drove along, his mind went to the stolen surveillance video of Jimmy Fratianno. Manuel swallowed back the uneasiness that had settled in his stomach. He suspicions were set on Detective Meagan Lacher. Someone must have paid her a hefty price to get that footage. A reporter no doubt. The question was how did she manage to swipe that video? He viewed the precinct’s cameras at least a dozen times. There was nothing on it to prove she was the thief. If Detective Lacher was the one that took it, she had to have been a freakin’ magician. It was as though the damn thing had vanished in thin air. Now it was just a matter of time before the video became news for the world to see.

  The rain had picked up, and the noise from the windshield wipers brought his mind back into focus, but still, that damn missing video would forever be in the back of his mind, frustrating the hell out of him.

  He reached for the radio, turning it up, hoping it would clear his head. That’s when he heard the news reporter talking about the werewolf caught on video.

  “Damn it,” Manuel muttered under his breath.

  I guess the wolf’s out of the bag now, so to speak, he thought. In fact, the more he listened, the more it became clear that the surveillance footage at the precinct of Jimmy Fratianno shifting into a rogue wolf had gone public. Shit!

  One of the commentators on the radio station compared the disturbing video to the murders in the Salem Cemetery, speculating that this could all just be a hoax.

  The idea of the man-wolf theory being fake was gaining favor by the minute. A female-voiced commentator presented her thoughts about the creature by saying the cemetery killer could be dressed up in a furred costume. There were even humorous discussions, and jokes about a possible Bigfoot sighting.

  Manuel rolled his eyes as he continued to listen to the radio host’s humorous speculations.

  “In my opinion,” the female speaker said, “the killer is using the ridiculous story of a real-life werewolf to draw attention away from his true identity.”

  “I agree,” the other commentator stated. “The cemetery murderer is fabricating a story to cover up his identity and create a panic. The whole thing is nothing but a sick joke. I hope they catch this guy and put him behind bars for the rest of his life.”

  Thank God, Manuel thought as he arrived at the park. The setting sun had just peeked its way from behind the clouds as the storm moved out. Alongside the road were several police cars, and yellow tape blocked the entrance to the trails that led to the crime scene.

  People didn’t seem to be buying the story of a mythical beast creating a rampage in the city. There just wasn’t enough physical evidence to support the wolf-man story. By what the broadcasters said on the radio, nobody thought the video was real. It was believed to be an elaborate, and well-planned-out device to generate a widespread panic, until a caller’s voice came through the radio station.

  “I saw the werewolf with my own two eyes,” the caller stated. The seriousness of the man’s voice was composed and self-assured.

  “Are you saying you actually witnessed the creature?” the woman on the radio said.

  “I was there when it crashed through the San Francisco Police Department’s window,” the caller replied.

  The other commentator lightly chuckled. “Is that so? How do we know you’re not just another person making this up, trying to draw attention?”

  “Because,” the caller said in a smug tone, “I’m a reporter for the Mercury News, and I’ve got it all on video.”

  Son of a bitch, Manuel cursed. “Damn reporters,” he muttered and cut the engine. With his hands gripped around the steering wheel, he tilted his head forward and exhaled deeply. Just when the video was thought to be a fraud, some asshole reporter had to go and screw it all up.

  As Manuel finally stepped out of his vehicle, Detective Perkins greeted him.

  “Looks like we got another homicide, Detective,” Perkins said grimly.

  “Are you sure you’re ready to come back to work?” Manuel asked his partner. “I can take care of things here if you need a few more days off.”

  “I’m good to go. Doc gave me a full release. How about you? How’s that shoulder?”

  “It still hurts like hell,” Manuel grumbled. “But I’ll be fine. Besides, I have too much shit going on with this case to lay around on my ass. I’m sure you feel the same.” When Frank nodded, Manuel went on, “So, any luck finding the rest of Mr. Morgan’s remains?”

  “Nothing so far, but we’ve got several officers with K9s searching the trails. We’re still waiting on the coroner to arrive. Until we get a positive ID on the victim, we can’t be sure it’s the same person that owns the car that was found.”

  Manuel sucked in a breath and made a show of squaring his shoulders. “What about the girl? Did anyone find out anything on her?”

  “Detective Ratcliff located Ms. Flynn’s next of kin. He said, according to her sister, she and Mr. Morgan lived together. Apparently, they were supposed to get married next month. We had a patrol car sent to their apartment this morning. So far, we haven’t had any luck locating either one.”

  Manuel’s shoulders sagged as if in defeat. “You think this has anything to do with the cemetery murders?”

  Frank conside
red all possibilities. “I don’t know. It could have been a bear,” he said. “Or a cougar. It’s not uncommon for them to be in this area of the woods. Either one could have dragged the remains back to its den.”

  “Or a human,” Captain Hodge said as he walked up and stood next to Frank.

  Frank looked at Hodge in disbelief. “Captain, you really believe a human did that? Going by what was left of the victim, whatever it was had to have been an animal.”

  “Come on, Captain,” Manuel chimed in. “Surely you don’t think a man could be responsible for something like this?”

  “You know as well as I do madmen are known to have superhuman strength,” Hodge said.

  “Not like what I saw,” Frank replied.

  “There’s one other possibility we haven’t considered,” Hodge said, his voice strong and clear. “It could be Jimmy Fratianno. We all have to admit what we witnessed at the station was no hoax. Although our fellow officers and the news think it was one, I know what I saw was real. What happened to Jimmy wasn’t just a figment of my imagination,” he continued. “You both saw it. I saw it. For crying out loud, we all saw Jimmy shift into...” He hesitated, letting out a deep breath. “...some kind of creature that looked like a damn wolf.”

  Manuel and Frank suddenly fell silent. Manuel knew if he tried to convince their captain or the precinct that a real werewolf was responsible for all the murders, he would end up diagnosed as insane and stripped of his badge. The only way to approach the killings was from the psychopath angle and see where that led.

  “There has been a lot of strange things going on lately,” Frank broke the silence, eyeing his partner with a worried look. “Hell, I don’t know what to believe anymore.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve stepped into the Bizarro World. Nothing makes any damn sense.”

  “Are you saying you believe Jimmy Fratianno is responsible for all the murders?” Manuel’s brow rose as he questioned Hodge. “What about the cemetery attacks? There is no possible way he could have done that. He was locked up behind bars.”

  Before Hodge could respond, a police officer interrupted and said, “Captain, the coroner just arrived. And we found some kind of animal prints not far from the crime scene.”