The Culling (Book 2): The Hollow:

by Bell, A. C.

  “I’m so happy to see you,” she whispered leaning her cheek against his shoulder. I risked a glance at Slade and found heartache written all over his face. This was the kind of reunion he had hoped to have with her.

  “I’ll fix your leg,” Worg said, ushering Kendra inside.

  Slade didn’t move to follow, so I touched his arm. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  He barely nodded. “Go on,” he muttered.

  I let him work through his emotions on his own like he wanted and strutted irritably after Kendra. She was being unfair. It wasn’t my place to say something, but I didn’t have to be happy about it. A dense collection of alchemy ingredients and such littered the shelves and cabinets along the walls and a pair of tables in the middle of the room were filled with various alembics and other apparatuses used for brewing potions, most of which were currently filled with a liquid of an array of colors. Kendra was settling onto a bare spot on one of the tables and propped her injured leg up. I set my shotgun down safely at the end of the table, facing it to the wall. Worg smiled at me until he read my expression.

  “Ah, a tense family meeting, then.”

  Kendra’s face contorted into almost offended confusion. “Family?” she said incredulously.

  I sent Worg a meaningful look to ask him not to continue, which he, of course, missed.

  “Yes, this is your great-great-niece. Is there another generation in there? I can’t remember.”

  She still looked confused for a moment and then her jaw clenched petulantly. “Ah. It survived, then.”

  I set my jaw and glared. “You say that like it’s Wyatt’s fault for having the gall to be born.”

  “Forgive me for not being pleased about the offspring of the wench who stole my father. If he’d stayed with the rest of us—”

  “He would have died like my father,” Slade cut in as he strutted to my side. Kendra moved her venomous glare to him.

  “He died anyway. Quite publicly, if you recall,” she snapped.

  Worg made a displeased grunt and we stopped arguing, though Kendra and Slade held angry stares. Worg bent and cut the shredded and bloodied pant leg of Kendra’s close-fitted black jeans up to the knee. She settled back on her hands, the muscles in her arms flexing, and hung her head back idly. At first glance, I thought the wrappings that covered her shin were for the large gashes and then I realized the linen wouldn’t also be ripped if it had been put on after.

  “I need to take these off,” Worg muttered apologetically.

  Kendra nodded and Worg began snipping the bandages away. She cringed. Beneath, lumpy jagged scar tissue covered every inch of her leg, meant to be kept hidden like everything else about her. They were burn scars. How high up did they go? Also curious was the fact that they were definitely not recent, so why were they still wrapped? I found Kendra looking at me and my face turned red.

  “Nice view?” She quipped sarcastically.

  “What did this?” Worg asked, referring to the gashes, not the burns.

  “I don’t know what they were.” She stared at her knee, brows furrowed in confusion and frustration. Raiden had made a similar face when Hemway had asked about the things that had attacked us. Were they that unfamiliar with not knowing what something was?

  “Were they grey? Sharp teeth?” I asked.

  “I’m not the only one who’s seen them, then? What are they? I haven’t heard of them before.”

  Slade squirmed uncomfortably. “We don’t know either.”

  “Whatever they may be, their cuts are not infectious,” Worg deduced after inspecting the lacerations.

  He cleaned them thoroughly and then mixed some kind of salve that he smeared into each. It started to foam and Kendra thumped her heel on the table, growling and grimacing in pain. Slade visibly tensed. Worg watched it analytically, probably making sure it was behaving correctly. Once it finished, he fetched a stitching kit. His elderly fingers moved through the motions with expertise. Once the stitch was started, he glanced warily at Slade.

  “You came to see me about these creatures,” he said intuitively.

  He nodded. “Adeline and Raiden encountered them a few days ago. I was hoping you could shed some light.”

  He looked to me and I recounted what I’d seen in more detail this time. Worg didn’t react and continued to stitch up Kendra’s leg. I looked up at Slade in confusion, but he subtly shook his head. The seer continued to ponder silently, then he muttered the description to himself over and over under his breath. He finished Kendra’s stitches and bandaged her up again before shuffling over to his desk. Slade hurried over to help him sit. The old draugr was still mumbling, eyes far away as he got lost in his mind. Kendra hopped off the table behind me and limped over as well, curious now. She crossed her arms stiffly at my side and I resisted the urge to shift away uncomfortably.

  Worg was troubled and frowned deeply down at his desk. His head was tilted as if he were listening. “An old story none remember. Too long ago, too deeply tucked beneath the earth. No, not beneath it. Through it. No, still not right.” He struggled to find the words for what he was feeling. “The monsters were sent away. Sent back to where things that don’t belong here go to. It was ripped open again and they came through. I-I don’t see it. Too dark, too...”

  “What was ripped open?” I asked.

  Kendra’s nails dug into her arms and her breathing became uneasy. Slade’s eyes met hers. “Purgatory.” she breathed. My chest tightened. Purgatory was never a cheerful trope in literature and judging from the look on her face, the reality of it must not be better.

  Worg’s head dipped down and he pressed a trembling hand to his temple. “Hohl.”

  I looked to Slade for a translation. “What?”

  Slade watched Worg closely. “It means ‘hollow’. What do you mean? Are the creatures hollow?”

  “No, the memory is. I can’t see it. The world doesn’t remember what they are. There’s a hole where it should be, nothing left. Just... hollow. I’m sorry, that’s all I see.”

  Slade placed a fond hand on the elderly man’s back. “That’s alright. Thank you.” Worg slumped against the back of his chair looking worn and thin and frail.

  “Worg?” Kendra’s voice dipped in concern.

  “I am old.” He stopped to draw in a difficult breath as if his lungs were too tight. “My time is coming soon. The last is coming.”

  Slade straightened. “The last draugr?”

  Worg nodded. “I’ve sent for someone to perform the curse. I will not go right away, but soon. Yes, soon.” He looked peaceful at the prospect. Who could blame him? Being stuck in your body as it slowly rotted away was more miserable than I could fathom. Slade said not even Worg remembered how old he was. At least five hundred years, since that was when Slade and Kendra had known him. To have the pain extended for that long only made it that much more heartbreaking.

  ***

  When I finally got home that night, the house was asleep. I flopped exhaustedly onto my bed, aware of Nikki snoring down on the futon on the floor. Had she chosen it so I would have no choice but to sleep in my bed? I closed my eyes and folded an arm over my tired head. What a day. Kendra had agreed to go with Slade to Renenet’s estate, if at the very least for food and rest. I didn’t know if she would stick around, but I prayed for Slade’s sake that she would. As painful as their disconnection was for him, having her leave would probably hurt him more.

  I drifted into a restless sleep. At least, until my phone woke me, vibrating vehemently on my nightstand. It was Raiden. I nearly fell out of bed scrambling for it, but once it was in my hand, I froze. What if it was awful news? How could I answer and hear that Peter was gone? But Slade was right. We all needed to know. I pressed the green button with a shaking thumb and lifted the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “I knocked but no one was awake,” Raiden said.

  I crawled to the end of the bed to peered through the window, only faintly brightened with morning light. Raiden leaned aga
inst his black Audi sedan with his free hand tucked into the pocket of his double-breasted coat. He spotted me and waved me down before hiding his hand back in the warmth of his pocket.

  “Come down.” His breath created a plume of frost in front of his face.

  I suddenly found it difficult to breathe. “Did you find him?”

  “Yes. He’s alive.”

  Cravitz and Fitch

  “What are we doing here?”

  I shouldn’t have asked. There was only one reason we would be at a place like this. I knew what we would find inside and based on the heartbroken expression on Nikki’s face, so did she.

  Raiden’s green eyes met mine with empathy. “Come on.” He ushered us up the steps of Norwich’s County Prison.

  “He was here the whole time?” Nikki asked as we trotted up the many steps to the front of the building.

  “No. The agent I contacted had him transferred here from Boston, where he was arrested. The biggest problem he’s been having is that as of now, this is a regular murder case that the SAU wasn’t even aware of because he was apprehended by regular authorities and hasn’t spoken to anyone.”

  I gaped. “No one?”

  Nikki’s gasp sounded more like a whimper. “He was arrested for murder?”

  I turned to find her halted a few steps behind, her hazel eyes wide. I caught the cuff of Raiden’s sleeve before he got out of reach and he followed my gaze, brows bunched in confusion until he saw her. His eyes saddened in apology for his lack of tact. He stepped back down to stand at my side.

  “Yeah. They think they have proof that he killed a girl named Quinn O’Flannan about a month ago.”

  “What does his lawyer say?” I asked.

  Raiden hesitated. “His public defender is at a loss. Peter won’t even talk to him. Right now, his lawyer is claiming mental instability. As soon as you get to see Peter, I want to go see the head partner at my old law firm so this can be handled properly.”

  Nikki crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “How did he go from running for his life to being charged with some girl’s murder? Did Gabriel do it?”

  It couldn’t be that simple. “But if Gabriel did it, then why wouldn’t Peter just call one of us?”

  Raiden shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Nikki pinched her lips together. “Let’s go.” She marched quickly around Raiden and took the steps two at a time.

  After wanting nothing more in the last two months than to finally find Peter, I was actually scared to see him. As I climbed slowly after her my lungs grew tight. What would we find when we were face-to-face with him after whatever terrible things had happened while he was away? On the run for his life and then wrongfully imprisoned for killing someone? Why hadn’t he reached out? Since there was no way he’d actually killed this girl, then why stay quiet? Why hadn’t he at least contacted his family, who deserved at the very least to know he was alive? What could be so wrong?

  Raiden’s hand touched the middle of my back to encourage me on. My slowed march and shallow breathing probably weren’t subtle hints as to what I was thinking. Embarrassment kept me from meeting his gaze, but I was grateful for his comfort. Nikki was practically bouncing with impatience at the top, holding the door open for us. Raiden reached over her head to hold it for both of us.

  Official city buildings all seem to have the same smell. A mixture of “down to business” and “don’t try anything stupid”. The Norwich County Jail had this scent in abundance, with an added whiff of “where did I go wrong?” The building was cleaner than I expected, not that I’d ever given much thought to what the inside of a jailhouse would look like. The lobby opened to a reception area that branched off to several hallways, each side guarded by a County Officer. Nikki and I flanked Raiden toward the desk at the wall. The woman behind it looked up from her monitor. She had a strong smoker’s pucker and deep crow’s feet wrinkles that could have either been caused by the smoking or by laughing a lot. Somehow, I got the impression that she did both in abundance. Her name tag read “Sophie”. She landed on Raiden’s grey suit and looked expectantly up at him.

  “Which inmate?” she said in a gravelly tone.

  “Hi,” he greeted with a grin. “We have a nine o’clock meeting with Peter De la Cruz.”

  Sophie smiled widely at his friendly demeanor. Probably not something she got a lot in this line of work. She quickly scanned her computer screen to find our reservation. “Ah, so you’re Mr. Lewis. It seems your friend has been a popular boy today.”

  “Someone else has been to see him? I thought no one knew he was here?” I whispered.

  “They’re still here, actually. Some government bigwig flashing his big important badge and a prissy lawyer.”

  “Did he say what agency he’s with?”

  “He’s from something called SAU. Whatever it stands for, apparently I don’t have the ‘qualifications’ to know. He had top clearance, though. They should be done soon.”

  “Right. Thanks.” Raiden’s tight-lipped smile fell away when he turned from the desk. There was a concerned crinkle between his brows.

  “What is it? Isn’t it good that they know he’s here? They’ll actually be able to listen to what he has to say.” I muttered.

  The slapping of our shoes echoed across the tile floor as Nikki and I followed his distracted ambling toward a row of blue plastic chairs against the wall that represented the waiting area.

  “Not necessarily. Depending on the details of the case, the lawyer may be here to prosecute him instead. It all depends on which lawyer came to see him.”

  We fell into silence and I tapped my fingers impatiently on the edge of my chair. Five minutes ticked by on the clock above Sophie’s head. Still nothing. Ten minutes later, the clicking of heels against the tile floor echoed through the hall on the right. A tall auburn haired woman sauntered into view trailed by an imposing man with dark skin, a shaved head, and a muscular physique. She was clad in a dark blue dress suit and he wore black slacks and a faded green tee that held snug around his muscular form. He nodded politely as they approached, though the woman was completely enthralled in her phone and didn’t notice us. Nikki bolted to her feet.

  “He didn’t do it,” she insisted.

  The woman started, blue eyes wide in surprise, but became disinterested when she saw who was addressing her. “I don’t know who you are, but my case is none of your business.” She found Raiden and paused. A smile of recognition curled her lips.

  The disdain on his face was evident, though he tried to hide it. “I see you haven’t changed, Cassandra.”

  “You know her?” I whispered. He nodded stiffly.

  A smug grin deepened the faint lines on either side of her mouth. “Ah, Joe Hardy. How’s Frank? I heard you two weren’t playing together anymore after you disappeared eight years ago. Some sort of tragedy, wasn’t it?” she taunted. Raiden’s eyes flashed and his scowl deepened. “Well, that certainly struck a nerve.”

  Anger pinched my gut and I, too, rose to my feet. “Leave him alone.”

  The legs of Raiden’s chair squeaked against the linoleum floor behind me and I felt the fabric of his sleeve brush against my arm as he stood close, but I kept my glare on Cassandra.

  “It’s alright, Adeline. Fighting dirty is the only way Cassandra knows how.”

  “How is it dirty if I don’t even know what thread I’m tugging at?”

  “Play games all you want. I won’t let you sandbag Peter De la Cruz the way you do all your cases.”

  The woman scowled, eyes pinching. “I only ‘sandbag’ people who are guilty. Your boy buried himself here, I didn’t do it for him. And he’s not doing himself any favors by refusing to talk to me. When we find his father, and we will find him, they’ll both go down for this.”

  Nikki frowned. “His dad is missing?”

  “Ben didn’t say anything about that,” I said.

  Cassandra smirked and vaguely rolled her eyes. She turned on her heel to saunter off.
Evidently, she was done with the conversation. Her envoy, however, remained behind. Nikki turned on the agent.

  “He’s a good person! But that doesn’t matter, does it? You think you have your answers and he’ll take the fall.”

  A smile quirked the man’s lips upward. “I don’t have any answers and that’s exactly what I’ll put in my report later. It’s been my experience that silence doesn’t always mean they’re guilty, it just means they don’t know who to talk to. Something you lot are here to handle, I’m sure. Come on.” He tipped his head back toward reception but lingered on Nikki briefly. His lips pulled up again. “He’s lucky.”

  She gaped in angry incredulity. “Lucky? Where are we right now?” She snapped. He chuckled and sauntered to the desk with Raiden in tow. I smiled at her.

  “That’s not what he meant.” I gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, but it didn’t stop her mouth from falling open, hazel eyes locking onto mine as she caught my meaning. I wasn’t sure when her feelings for Peter had changed. She may not have even been able to pinpoint it herself but changed they had.

  “Adeline...”

  “I’m happy for you. As you said, he’s a good person.”

  And she needed a good person after everything Justin had put her through. Luckily, I happened to know that Peter felt the same about her. She seemed unable to form words, so I tugged her to the desk by the hand. Security was ready for us now and Agent Morrison, as I learned, escorted us back. We had to go through a metal detector and were patted down to make sure we weren’t smuggling some kind of pills or drugs or whatever and then we were finally let through the heavy locked door to the main part of the building. Morrison led us casually down the hall. I stared at the back of his head, reflecting the fluorescent light from above. Did I want to ask? I decided on ‘yes’.

  “How is he?” The only indication that he’d heard me was the slight turning of his head. Refusing to answer wasn’t a good sign. “Alright, then why are they letting you take us back? Don’t they need security to watch us?”