Seeking to Devour

by Kyle Alexander Romines

  “Jeremy assaulted me. I had every right to defend myself.” Alexander kept his voice calm. “I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

  “You had no right!” Patrick shouted. “That’s my brother!”

  Several customers started staring at them.

  Alexander rose from his seat and stood toe-to-toe with Patrick. “Your brother is a coward and a bully. Like all bullies, he finally chose the wrong person to pick on. Now, are we going to have a problem?”

  “You’re darn right we have a problem.”

  The manager approached with arms crossed. “Mr. Doyle, I’d like you to leave.”

  Patrick looked the manager over, causing him to flinch, and turned his gaze back to Alexander. “This ain’t over.” He stormed out of the café without another word.

  “You should be careful of Patrick Doyle,” Ellie said as Alexander returned to his seat. “He’s a known drug dealer. If half the rumors about him are true…people say he’s capable of some pretty terrible things.”

  “Alexander can take care of himself,” Aristae interjected. “He need not concern himself with those beneath him.”

  Ellie wasn’t sure what she meant by that. “Did you really break Jeremy’s arm?”

  Alexander offered an apologetic expression. “I guess. They cornered me. Fighting back was the only thing I could do.”

  Ellie was sure that Jeremy’s obsession with her played a role in the attack. Although she was relieved that Jeremy hadn’t hurt Alexander, she didn’t understand why he hadn’t mentioned it earlier. He hadn’t kept anything from her before—at least, not that she knew of. “Just be careful. Their family is dangerous.”

  “What do you know of danger?” For the first time, Aristae seemed interested. “Danger has a way of finding you whether or not you go looking for it. You should remember that, my dear.”

  Ellie couldn’t believe her ears. Aristae was even stranger than Patrick Doyle, if such a thing was possible. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Do that. I have other matters to attend to, so you must excuse me for now. I am sure we will see each other again soon.” Aristae gave Alexander a final look and departed the café in silence.

  “That was your ex-girlfriend?” Ellie was incredulous. “How on earth did you get involved with someone like her?”

  “She’s really friendly once you get to know her,” Alexander protested half-heartedly.

  Ellie regarded him with skepticism. “Friendly” was not a word she would choose to describe Aristae at all.

  “We met after my first breakup. I told you I was in love once before. It ended badly. Aristae was there for me afterwards when I needed someone.”

  “She looks like she’s almost thirty years old! Normal women that age don’t pursue guys who just turned twenty.”

  “Aristae is different. And she’s not as old as she looks. In fact, the gap between us isn’t more than our age difference, Ellie.”

  Ellie remained unconvinced. “It’s just weird, that’s all. I’m not sure I like her.”

  Alexander laughed. “You’re not the only one. A lot of people think Aristae’s cold and distant, but I know her better than that.”

  Just how well do you know her? Ellie chided herself for being so suspicious. Alexander had never given her a reason not to trust him. “Where is she really from? I didn’t want to say anything, but I thought she spoke with a slight accent.”

  “She was raised overseas. France, I think.”

  Ellie folded her arms across her chest. “When were you planning on telling me she was here?”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry she ambushed us. I didn’t know she was coming to Hazard. I would have told you otherwise.”

  Ellie considered his response. “So she just showed up at your doorstep? What did your dad say?”

  Alexander looked puzzled for a moment, as if there was something amiss with the question. “Nothing. She’s an old family friend. That’s all she is—a friend. Don’t worry. She’ll be gone before long. Dad and I are going camping, so we won’t even be in the house most of the time.”

  It sounds like Aristae picked the wrong weekend to visit. “Well, I won’t pretend I’m comfortable with it, but I trust you.”

  Alexander grabbed Ellie’s hand, as if to emphasize the point. “I would never do anything to hurt you.” As if satisfied he had answered completely, he returned to his half-eaten burger.

  Ellie ate a few fries, but her appetite was gone. Something about Aristae disturbed her, though she wasn’t quite sure why. She looked down at her phone. “I should probably head to work. Enjoy your camping trip. I’ll see you Monday. Don’t forget, we’ve got dinner at my house Tuesday.”

  She hoped her parents would like Alexander as much as she did. She let go of his hand and said goodbye before driving to work.

  “Good afternoon Mrs. Rogers,” she said when she arrived at the store, receiving only a scowl in return. “Where’s Sarah?”

  “How should I know? She never showed up for her shift earlier.”

  Ellie’s smile faded. Maybe Sarah really was in trouble.

  The moon was almost full. Alexander was walking alongside the road’s edge when Patrick found him. He’d waited in his truck and followed Alexander from the café, but somehow the kid had managed to give him the slip for most of the evening. Thick clouds gathered above, encircling the moon like a pair of claws. There were no lampposts this far from town, allowing darkness to encroach on the land.

  Certain they were alone, Patrick took another swig from his flask and revved the engine. Alexander appeared to hear the truck before he saw it. He turned around slowly and held his arm in front of his face as a shield from the headlights.

  Patrick veered off the road and sped toward him. He shouted above the diesel engine as the truck gathered momentum. “Think you can mess with my family?”

  Alexander hurled himself out of the way and landed hard on the ground.

  Patrick stomped on the brakes and brought his truck to a halt. Alexander clearly recognized him from the café. Patrick wheeled the truck around and again revved the engine. He was out for blood.

  “We’ll see how you like it.” He pointed a shotgun out the window and fired twice, deliberately missing, and pounded the gas pedal. “Get ready to die, you piece of—”

  Alexander seemed to fly from the road, straight toward the oncoming truck, and vanished into the blinding headlights. The truck was lifted off the ground, only to come crashing back down against the road with staggering force.

  Patrick’s body swung forward, and his head smacked against the steering wheel. One of the headlights went out; the other flickered intermittently. The engine shrieked, and radiator steam appeared beyond the cracked windshield.

  “What the hell?” Patrick’s head was groggy. He tasted blood in his mouth and realized he was missing a tooth. His right leg was probably broken.

  Boots echoed across the pavement. There was someone outside the truck. Patrick peered out the window but didn’t see anyone. Then he spotted a pair of blue eyes shining in the dark—eyes with a hunger he hadn’t noticed in the café.

  The sea of clouds rolled away to reveal the moon as Alexander Thorne approached. Patrick grunted, willing himself to move, but his body refused to respond. As Alexander traced the truck’s side with his fingers, his hands twisted and sprouted into claws. Metal screeched when he dug the claws into the truck.

  Patrick fumbled blindly with his seatbelt. This couldn’t be happening. Finally his fingers found the release button.

  “I usually don’t enjoy killing humans.” Alexander paused at the door. “You get to be the exception to the rule.” With one tug, he pulled the truck door free of its hinges and tossed it into the night.

  Alexander noticed the shotgun too late. Patrick discharged the weapon directly into Alexander’s chest, and the force of impact knocked Alexander off his feet. He landed flat on his back near the median, and a pool of blood spread over the blacktop.

  Trembling,
Patrick slid out of his seat and fell to the pavement, wincing as his broken leg hit the ground. Clutching his shotgun, he began crawling in the direction of town, hoping someone would come across him on the seldom-traveled back road.

  When he glanced back at the pool of blood, Alexander was gone.

  “It ain’t possible.”

  A clawed hand grabbed him and effortlessly lifted him into the air.

  “Look at you now. You sell drugs to children. You extort money and exploit the weak. You wield power through fear.”

  “Don’t hurt me,” Patrick pleaded.

  “They call you a monster. But that’s not quite true, is it? You’re only a shadow of a real monster, Patrick. What you really are is a worm—a worm foolish enough to come hunting for a true monster.”

  The skin around Alexander’s mouth began to move and weave. Bones snapped as his jaws grew larger while the rest of his body remained the same. He stretched his mouth open, exposing legions of enormous, jagged teeth.

  “I am a true monster, Patrick,” an inhuman voice growled.

  Patrick screamed as teeth tore into his shoulder. Alexander bit into flesh, and blood spurted from severed arteries.

  The truck’s remaining headlight wavered and faded to dark.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ellie’s father was ready to give up on the hunt for the predator when a new message appeared in his inbox. For a Sunday afternoon, the day was already shaping up to be much busier than expected. One of the horses was ready to foal at any time, and he’d put down a suffering dog just after returning home from church. Usually Sunday was the slowest day of the week, but today it seemed as if every animal needed attention.

  After things settled down, he was looking forward to finally relaxing when the email appeared on his screen.

  Re: Animal Identification, read the heading. It was a reply from one of his professors at Auburn—a retired research zoologist.

  He clicked on the message, which contained three attachments.

  Michael,

  I apologize for the tardiness of my response. Fascinating as it was, careful study of your question yielded little in the way of answers. Fortunately, I did stumble across some precedent that may aid in your research. No presently identified species matches the images you sent me. However, as we both know, there are countless species roaming this earth that have yet to be identified. Three months ago I myself believed I had identified a new form of moth—but alas, it was not to be.

  One of the attachments contains an image virtually identical to yours in size and shape. (It may be a bit smaller. Whatever animal you are dealing with is likely larger than most of its kind; a statistical outlier.) The picture comes from the site of an animal mauling in Alaska fifteen years ago. There was initially some debate over whether the picture was a hoax, but in the end the consensus seemed to be that it was legitimate.

  Alaska? Most animals adapted to endure Alaska’s environment would hardly be suited for life in Kentucky. Such a predator would have to possess an incredible range.

  The second attachment is a copy of a newspaper story dated twenty years ago. It describes a series of animal sightings and attacks resulting in several deaths in Tennessee. Although the article has no pictures, there is an illustration I believe may be comparable to your print. The proximity of the sightings to your current location may lend the article relevance.

  What I’ve seen thus far (admittedly inconclusive as it may be) indicates the predator in question is roughly the size of a grizzly, perhaps smaller. I will not speculate as to its classification; the data is too sparse. There is more to go on in terms of behavior. The account describes an animal that travels in packs, so there may be more than one. (This should not be taken as gospel—the relatively few recorded instances of attacks suggest a low population density.) Above all, the predator displays unusual aggression toward humans and other large mammals.

  That is all for now. I hope this has been of some use to you. Your situation intrigues me, and I will continue to look into the matter.

  Gregory

  He reread the message, carefully examining the attachments before typing a quick response of thanks. His own investigation had not been completely without results. Recalling the bite marks left behind on the eviscerated cow, he retrieved a textbook. As in the article provided by his professor, the creature attacked at night. If not for the number of toes and the creature’s size, he could have easily placed it in the canine family.

  The possibility that more such creatures might be out there disturbed him. Michael grabbed his phone and dialed Matt Simmons’ number.

  The phone rang four times before Matt picked up.

  “Hello?”

  Other voices were audible in the background.

  “Deputy Simmons? This is Michael Sullivan. I was calling about the animal attack on the Taylor farm. Is this a bad time?”

  There was a slight hesitation on the other end of the line. “No worries. What do you have for me?”

  “An old professor of mine matched the print to some attacks in Tennessee twenty years ago. There’s an animal in Alaska that may also be a match. I still think we’re dealing with a solitary animal, but the instance in Tennessee involved multiple sightings. The predator may hunt in packs.”

  “That’s interesting. Anything else?”

  “Yes. Based on what I’ve read and seen, the predator is nocturnal. It likely hides during the day, which would be your best bet to find it. I’m worried it may start attacking humans if it doesn’t move on, especially if farmers are guarding their cattle and horses if word gets out.”

  “It’s already too late for that.”

  “What?” Michael gripped the phone tighter.

  “I’m over near Old Hickory Road. We’re still putting together the pieces, but there was an attack last night. The victim was driving when he wrecked his truck. That’s when the animal most likely came out of the woods and attacked. The victim didn’t make it.”

  “Do you want me to come by?”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll get some pictures sent to you and keep you posted.”

  With that, the call ended. Michael frowned. With the predator killing people, it was only a matter of time before they started hunting it, and Michael knew better than most that cornered predators were at their most dangerous.

  Matt returned his phone to his pocket, glanced once more at the blood spot in the road, and forced himself to look at the body. He inspected the license recovered from the victim’s pocket. The corpse in the road was hardly identifiable as Patrick Doyle. Extensive wounds on his upper body, head, and face ran deep. His tibia had been shattered, though that might have been from the wreck.

  Someone in forensics mentioned something about a recovered bullet. If Patrick got a successful shot off, maybe they could send the bullet for testing. DNA could help identify the predator. Maybe Patrick got lucky and took a chunk out of the beast. Then again, there was no sign of his assailant, which suggested the predator had survived.

  Matt regarded the corpse again and suppressed the urge to vomit. It would have taken something monstrous to do that to Patrick Doyle—especially after being shot. Nobody deserved to die like that—not even Patrick Doyle.

  “It looks like you were right about that thing you’ve been hunting,” another deputy said.

  “I wish I’d been wrong. I have a feeling that thing is still out there somewhere.”

  “Don’t worry. The sheriff will organize a proper search now. We’ll find it.”

  “I hope so.” Matt understood the need to treat the wild with respect. Animals acted out of instinct and self-preservation. This felt different somehow—almost evil—and it unsettled him.

  His phone rang again.

  “You’d better get down here. We’ve got some more people at the station complaining about disappearances.”

  Great. Fear was setting in already. Matt prayed the media hadn’t caught wind of the story yet. Then there would be full-blown panic
. He remembered a story from Gray Hollow, where developments in a twenty-year missing person’s case put the town in a state of frenzy. Once word got out, everyone in Hazard would know what was happening. We’ve got to find this thing and put it down. Fast.

  When he arrived, the atmosphere in the station had changed considerably. Cell phones and landlines rang constantly as people hurried busily about. Unexpectedly, he recognized an individual waiting at the front desk.

  “Ellie? I was just on the phone with your father. How can I help you?”

  Ellie exchanged confused looks with a middle-aged woman accompanying her. “Did my dad tell you about Sarah?”

  “Sarah?” Matt raised an eyebrow. “What exactly are we talking about here?”

  “My friend, Sarah Preston, has been missing since Friday.”

  “My daughter,” said the woman seated next to Ellie. “No one’s seen her.”

  Matt frowned. “Is this the first time you’ve reported her missing?”

  “It is. Sarah hasn’t responded to any of my calls or texts. It’s not unusual for her to spend nights at her friends’ houses, but she hasn’t shown up for work or tried to contact me or her father. No one has seen or heard from her, and I’m worried sick.”

  Ellie nodded. “Sarah was supposed to meet me at the hayride on Friday. She never showed up. What if the predator attacked her?”

  The suggestion prompted tears from Sarah’s mother.

  Matt smiled reassuringly in an attempt to calm them both. He wasn’t sure he believed the disappearance was connected to the animal that attacked Jack Taylor and Patrick Doyle, but he believed them that something was wrong. “There could be any number of explanations for why your daughter is missing, Mrs. Preston. Please try not to worry yourself too severely until we find out more. I’ll put a search out for her vehicle immediately, and I’ll need some more information from you as well.”

  Mrs. Preston wiped her tears away and tried to compose herself. “Of course. Whatever you need. All I want is Sarah home safe.”