by M. P. Taylor
There was a bluntness about him that didn't hide his motives. If he wanted me dead, he would kill me but he didn't. I was a potential asset to him, one he sought to gain. Maybe not today but someday he hoped I'd come over to whatever side he represented. It was a remarkably restrained position compared to the status quo of the supernatural world.
“Why now?” my mind began to work the pieces, “I've got something you want but what is it...you have something to do with the killings?”
“I do.”
His confession took me by surprise, “So you want me to clean up your mess?”
“If you succeed, you'll be cleaning up my mess one way or another,” he stiffened slightly, “You can either walk into it blind, or with a guiding light and plenty of backup.”
A mocking laughter escaped my lips, “And it will cost me what? Being labeled a traitor, hunted for the rest of my life while I tag along with some overambitious mortals.”
“You'd be wise to not underestimate our organization,” he didn't shift his features or tone to indicate anger. He was just speaking factually, as though giving a gentle warning.
“Why? Going to unleash a monster on me?” I began to walk through the solider.
They stiffened but held their fire, “The fact that you can't handle the situation yourselves speaks to your limited power. That you need my help in the first place...that's just desperate.”
He controlled his emotions well, breathed out but otherwise remained calm as I walked past him, “I take it, that's a no.”
“You'd be correct,” I took out my keys and unlocked my car.
“A moment,” he said dryly. Footsteps came from behind me as the man approached. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a single piece of paper, a business card, “Should you find yourself in need.”
I took it and nodded. My words had been dismissive, but it would be a lie to say I wasn't in the market for a new boss.
The elders sure as hell didn't want me sticking around and it was only a matter of time before I woke up to a bullet in the head. They'd done such things before for far lesser crimes. Hell, I wasn't entirely sure why they hadn't already killed me. I'd asked, of course, but never got a clear answer. Just the same vagueness, 'The council is merciful' and other such nonsense.
Their mercy was isolation, stagnation and such things were death in my world. If one did not grow in power, one would be devoured by others seeking it.
I read the card. It had a name, 'Renold Arbor' and a number.
They stood guard as I made my daring escape at ten miles an hour. My mutt watched them the entire time while I hoped there wasn't a bomb under my car. It would have been the easiest way to kill one of my kind. For all our power, we were rather easy to kill if taken off-guard.
Mr. Arbor was true to his word and no explosion came as I made my way back to the city.
Chapter Six
The trip back went smooth enough, no more hidden ambushed or paramilitary snipers to be seen.
I stopped to get some food on the way, a triple order of the worst possible fast food that I could find – the more calories the better. I tossed Bucket's portion into the backseat. Despite having just been hand feed a small deer, he was still hungry. It wasn't my place to judge. I dug into the food without a second thought. Regrowing flesh and casting magic took a lot out of a girl.
The third portion I put in the glovebox, I foresaw a stakeout in my future. With Nomia's help I had a new name and an address to top it off.
According to the radio, there hadn't been any new killings. I trusted the information as it was all that the local news stations seemed to want to talk about. Given it was a election year, that was an impressive feat. Normally, I had to turn the thing off just to end their persistent ramblings.
I gave thought to that for a moment, how bad did news have to be that I was thankful for a murder to break up the daily habit.
With that thought in mind I pulled up alongside the address to one Ethan William. It was an older model buildings that spoke of wealth or a long family lineage – there weren't many who could afford old brick homes. There was even a bit of a lawn, the ultimate sign of prestige in an urban center.
I parked a short ways away and gave the street a look over before I got out.
There were a number of people who seemed to have in interest in these killings. At least one of them, the blood knights, had the same information as I did. It was still daytime and vampire tended not to like the sun, but never doubt a vampire. They had legions of thralls to do their dirty work during the daytime – brainwashed men and women who'd do anything for the privilege of being feed upon by the undead. It wasn't entirely impossible that those men who'd confronted me a few hours ago were actually servants of Irena and her ilk.
It was a good thing that I checked the place. A police car was parked just slightly down the road from the house. Not only that, but there was also a red Hyundai that had two men inside. No doubt they were officers of the law, undercover types looking to pounce.
That meant I was in the right place, but it also was quite unfair. They'd stolen my plan. I'd wanted to sit and observe until something went wrong, but now I was going to be the oddity.
I steeped out my car and began walking towards the door.
My staff was still in the car, figured there was no point in making the police think I was some sort of wacko. I was just a harmless young woman who could destroy cars with a flick of her wrist and who still had a concealed pistol on her.
Worse comes to worse, I could always escape from a cell.
From the corner of my eyes I saw movement from the Hyundai, they were reporting my position but seemed content at just that. They allowed me to approach the stairs, walk up and knock upon it a few times.
There was a shuffling of feet before the door cracked open ever so slightly – not an invitation but enough that I could see the interior.
A pair of worn eyes, red from tears and sleepless night, greeted me. They belong to a stocky sort of woman who's dark hair was unkempt, “Eh, can I help you.”
“Detective Wright. I was hoping I could ask you some questions,” I motioned to the police car outside, “The boys outside said that you were up.”
She stiffened a bit in surprise, looked out at the police car and then nodded to me. A moment later she undid the notch on the door and opened it, “Please, come in.”
Phew, she didn't ask for a badge.
There was probably some law I was breaking by pretending to be an officer, but sometimes you needed to bend the rules a little.
Besides, I wasn't even a citizen of this nation. All my paperwork was forged so it wasn't as though I was breaking a law of an accord I had agreed to uphold.
Her home looked much like the woman, in desperate need of cleaning. There were a number of half packed boxes strewn about, pots on a kitchen table, and a sort of unclean smell that was common with those who struggled to find meaning in life. She was either depressed or in grieving. A quick glance at her hand led me more towards grieving. On her finger was a rather fine looking silver ring with a diamond on the top that made me rather jealous. No one ever bought me jewelry.
“So um, Detective Wright,” the woman began as she led me through the kitchen to a table, “What exactly is this about? I already spoke with the other one, what was his name...Detective Filson.”
I placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a sympathetic look, “I understand Miss but we just need to go through things again. Why don't you just start from the beginning.”
She looked as though she were about to protest. Her mouth opened slightly, trembled, then closed as she accepted my request.
“As I told Detective Filson, my husband was approached to join a medical research program due to a background screening he'd undergone on account of his condition,” she must have read my slightly puzzled face as she quickly elaborated, “It isn't well known but he was dying. Rectal cancer, rare at his age but not rare enough...”
“These t
est, were they optional or just part of the treatment?” I asked, trying to sound like a proper detective.
“Optional. Ethan was something of a humanitarian, figured if he was going to die, then why not use his body for some good. He put is name up for experimental medical treatments and that's when he came into contact with Miss Helen. She was a project coordinator for some pharmaceutical and wanted to have him be part of one of their programs.”
“Miss Helen? Are you aware of the news?” I didn't want to outright tell the woman that Helen had been killed; there was a chance she was still in the dark.
She nodded, “I heard about it on the radio. Wasn't surprised. After the others and the investigation, I figured it was only a matter of days.”
“What do you think is happening?” I asked.
A shrug, “Don't know and I don't rightly care.”
“Fair enough, please continue,” she nodded and continued.
“Not much more to tell. He went in a few times a week for about a month. One day he didn't come back and I eventually got a call from Helen telling me that he had a bad reaction to a medicine that they were testing. Ethan died,” her voice was detached from the events she was telling, “Few weeks later the killings started. One by one they each got torn to bits. Police dropped by, asked some questions and put those men outside when my husbands name came up in the paperwork.”
“I need to ask you a strange question, but I need you to answer me honestly,” she looked at me oddly but nodded, “Have you seen anything out of the ordinary, heard any voices at night, or meet with any strange people lately?”
“Beside you Detective, no. I haven't been out of my house in nearly a week. No one's called besides the police, family, Helen, and the funeral service. Just normal, dead family member, business stuff.”
“Right,” I fought back a sigh, she didn't seem to known much and, if she was lying, she had a hell of a game face.
As a precaution I focused a bit of will to try and sense if she had any sort of aura about her. She didn't. There was just the ambient life force that was typical of any human. She didn't have the power to summon up anything to take revenge if she wanted. She was just a normal person in grieving for a husband who'd apparently been tangentially related to Helen's company. It hadn't been the best lead in the first place but it had been my only real chance.
Felling a bit defeated, I said my farewell and left Ethan's wife to her depression. I thought about giving my condolences or doing anything really, but it just didn't feel right. She'd had too many of those already and seemed like she was in the stage of grief were she no longer wanted pity.
On the way back to my car, one of the policemen from the red Hyundai came out and approached me.
I didn't bother trying to ignore him or run away. Instead, I waited for him to cross the street with a raised brow. Normally investigators wanted to be a bit more subtle in a stakeout.
He wore a rather bland brown coat along with a wrinkly hat that had seen many years of good service. His face was the sort that was utterly unwanted by anyone, a mix between a pug and human that could be descried as so ugly that he was almost cute. Almost. It was made all the worst by the stern 'all business' look. One would have thought he were moving through a pile of manure from the way his face was bunched up.
On the whole, I liked him before I meant him. That he was a detective with such remarkable ugliness showed he must have been truly skilled.
“Evening,” I offered as greeting.
He nodded and pulled out a badge from his pocket, “Detective Filson, might I have a moment of your time.”
“A moment.”
“What's your business with Ms. William?” he eyed me, putting his bullshit detectors to maximum.
He smelt something fishy about me. That was fine so long as he didn't get in my way, “It was of a personal matter. Suffice to say I am looking into the deaths and believed that she might have had information of use.”
A glint of surprise flashed on his features, “Hm, don't suppose she told you anything?”
“Something,” I teased, “Nothing of use though.”
His posture changed slightly, his eyes flickered away from me and towards the Arbor residence, “So what are you, private detective? News?”
“Concerned citizen. People are dying in my back yard and that just can't continue.”
He laughed at my words.
“People die in the city all the time. What makes these ones so special that ya came down to deal with it yourself,” I scowled at him. He took it in stride, continuing to comment, “Ya know. We had reports of a woman coming out from the last murder. Blond with a blue coat or something like that. Wouldn't know anything about that, would ya?”
“Blond hair and blue coat...no, don't know anyone matching that description,” I matched his own condescending tone and saw him flinch an eyebrow in anger, “Is there anything else?”
“As a matter of fa-”
I cut him off with a raised finger. “Enough, I haven't the time for meddling of fools. Least you haven't noticed there is a creature killing people, eviscerating them, and tossing their bodies about like they were toys. I've no intention of wasting my time with an endless barrage of questions when there is work to be done.”
He stood stunned by my frankness, I continued, “Unless you seek to detain me, I shall be on my way.”
“Wait!” I stopped and turned back toward him with a glare. He asked a final question, “What was that about a creature.”
“A creature. Something not quite human. Monster might be a more proper term, but most people laugh when they hear monster. It reminds them of fanciful tales that they've long since dismissed as illogical fallacies of the past centuries. Monster. Creature. The meaning is the same. A living thing that is killing men. I assure you that these killings come from the hands of such a beast.”
“A monster,” amusement hung in his voice, “And you're the one calling me a fool.”
There was little point but I indulged him, “The autopsy. I've not had a copy but perhaps you have. The wounds, do you think a human could have made them. Clean lacerations in a claw pattern, torn limbs, straight out of the torso, and, my favorite, a head twisted about in a single smooth motion. How many people have that strength? Shall I give the answer? None. No human can do those things and yet you call me a fool for dismissing the impossible?”
I favored him with a false smile, “What is your working theory? An eight foot tall muscle man with a claw hand?”
He eyed me with a dangerous look. Not the sort that told me he was going to kill me for insulting him, but the kind that told me he thought I was a threat. Good instincts, I suppose, but pointless. I was a threat to him but the same could not be said in return. There were likely four officers nearby, two for each car including himself. It wouldn't even be a fight if we decided to throw down; not that I intended such, but it allowed me to stare him down without flinching. He was an mortal trying to match a wielder of creation. I was not impressed.
“You seem to know an awful lot about the killings, Miss,” he took a step forward, “How about we come down to the station and have a talk.”
I snapped my finger, “Nix!”
Power surged about me as moisture was sucked out from the surrounding air. It coalesced upon my palm, a spiral fractal of ice that hovered in the air.
He looked upon it as if it were the devil himself. He stepped back and I decided that the demonstration had proven the point well enough. With a flick of my wrist, the giant sized snowflake fell to the ground and shattered.
“Detective,” I began, trying to sound as polite as possible, “I've nothing but respect for you, but monsters are real, magic is real, and you are far out of your league.”
He truly didn't know what to say which worked well enough for me. It gave me enough time to turn away, jump in my car and drive off.
There was something of a controversy when it came to telling mortals the truth about the supernatural.
&n
bsp; Mainly, there were two camps. The first thought that none should be told. Being hidden among mortals was useful and telling would do little besides spread paranoia. The second, more modern, school of thought said that all should know. Their logic was that, if a monster was moments away from eating you, wouldn't like to have the heads up. In the end it was a largely pointless discussion as mortals choose for themselves to ignore us.
The detective, he would likely rationalize my magic as nothing more than a clever trick meant to distract. He had already been unwilling to accept the possibility of a monster being the killer – what was a bit of magic on top of that?
Nothing, just another unexplained event in the night. Come morning, he'd dismiss it and feel a bit foolish. It wasn't really his fault, he'd been conditioned to think that way. That was the pack mentality of humans at work, 'If no one else knows about magic, then magic cannot be real'.
A logical thought that led to a false conclusion.
Chapter Seven
Thank god for home evictions!
One of the positive perks of wealthy neighborhood was the ambition of someone who thought themselves rich without having the proper money.
About seven doors down from the William's house was a similar model. The main difference being that it was empty with a 'for sale' sign out on the front lawn. Breaking in was a bit of a pain but the cops had the streets covered – doubted that they'd want me lurking around. No alarms rang and it only took me a bit of effort to find the way up onto the building's roof.
It was cold, an old fashioned brick and timber that was covered in slippery ice. It made me reconsider if I really wanted to sit out her for a few hours.
The recently killed had all been doctors in charge of the program whereas Ms William was nothing more than the wife to a test subject. It seemed unlikely that she knew anything that would get her killed, but I didn't have any other names. For all I knew, the creature might just disappear with its job done.
Somehow I doubted it would be that easy, and honestly I hoped it didn't. I'd already spent a good amount of effort on this beast, in order for it pay off I'd need to harvest something useful from its corpse. That, and to stop the thing for killing again.