Neon White Season One: A Tooth, Claw and Horns Chronicle

by Wulf Francu Godgluck

  A second arm reached out, the sludge clinging to the figure like liquid latex; stretching thin in areas, causing it to be almost transparent gray.

  Bla’Gar clenched his right fist, heart hammering in his chest as the thing was birthed out of the puddle. In the back of his mind, he knew he was only seeing the house’s memory, but knowing this thing had done who knows what to the little alpha... A shudder rippled through him.

  The dark liquid seemed to take the shape of a dirty ragged cloak.

  This is not Death.

  For as long as he’d lived, he should have known what this alien creature was, but Bla’Gar could not identify or explain the cold associated with the creature. It stopped growing, the cloak now covering a human-like figure, cut off at the waist. Bla’Gar clenched his jaw, aware of the protective growl vibrating from his chest as the thing crawled and dragged itself over Seth. When it drifted above Seth, the cloak dancing like smoke in non-existent wind currents, slowed down in time, the creature gave itself away.

  A wiht.

  The vilest of specters, a soul slowly digested by death. Once a vampire or ghoul or other paranormal living dead, the entity is consumed by dejection, but unwilling to take its own life. Instead it allowed its physical body to rot away, leaving nothing but a tormented soul, an otherworldly creature not bound by the spectral plane nor the living.

  A bony finger was placed against Seth’s cheek, slowly trailing down leaving a fresh cut that quickly seeped crimson.

  Seth’s eyes snapped open. The young alpha’s arm shot forward in pure instinct, slamming the wiht by its throat into the side table, shattering a glass vase beneath its weight.

  The pup was up, making an attempt to get away from the creature. The wiht grabbed Seth by the hair while the cloak smothered him. In a blur they disappeared into the fireplace, as if neither was ever there. Warmth flooded the room, the coals glowing a low yellow.

  Bla’Gar closed his eyes to the memory, now only hearing the front door open, the loud steps approaching, logs falling on the wooden floor. He gripped the axons and yanked them from his arm. The world flashed back to the present.

  His head felt dizzy and heavy from the flooded memories. He slumped backwards, falling on his ass from the after effects. He pulled his knees up and rested his arms on them.

  A wiht.

  What did a wiht want with Seth? It was a rather odd question since they merely tormented the living in the hope someone would end their suffering. The better question was, why?

  Well, siting on the floor is not going to solve it.

  Bla’Gar pressed to his feet and stood. The instant the world spun and he swayed, a strong hand was on his side and a shoulder under his arm. Lucas picked him up and carried him towards the wingback chair. Something was wrong. Bla’Gar didn’t feel himself, dizziness flooded him again, his limbs weak. His head throbbed, like someone hammering a nail into his skull.

  “Why’d you bite ‘im?” Bla’Gar asked, aware of the slur in his speech.

  He peered up, in strained effort, at a silent Lucas. The sharp lights surrounding the mutt’s form made him cringe, blinking back tears as his vision blurred.

  “‘nswer ‘e,” Bla’Gar’s voice was weak, but he had to know. “Did ‘ou think by proclaimin’ Seth is your’, you would convince ‘e?” Bla’Gar could only assume the reason why Lucas had claimed Seth; to please Bla’Gar. “You ‘ave to let this obsessio’ go, I feel nothin’ for you, ‘ever had, just a warm piece of meat to fuc’, that’s all ‘ou were to ‘e, all you ‘ill ever be, ‘ucas.”

  Fingers swiped under his nose, and he pulled back from the touch as liquid ran down his upper lip dripping into his mouth. His nose was bleeding.

  “Master, are you okay?” There was panic in Lucas’ voice.

  “‘m not ‘ure..” He stood, or tried to, but his shaky arms wouldn’t hold him up. This could not be a side effect of tapping into the house’s memories, he had done it countless times before. Why should now be any different? And Demons didn’t get ill, they weren’t plagued by human ailments.

  “I ‘elieve, I ‘eed res’.” The request sounded odd coming from him, he had not slept since he was human, could not even fathom what it was like anymore.

  So what is this?

  He stopped thinking, did not even bother to protest when Lucas lifted him into his arms and carried him up the stairs. In fact Bla’Gar was grateful for the mutt.

  He felt himself sink into the bed, dreariness and exhaustion overtaking him. Bla’Gar did not open his eyes when he spoke, “It’s not that ‘hich we ‘elieve we want, but that ‘hich we ‘eed. ‘ou have a ‘reat deal to learn, ‘utt, and I hope for Seth’s ‘ake you ‘earn it ‘oon.”

  Bla’Gar gave up trying to fight his weakness, whatever was wrong with him he hoped would pass soon. He needed to find Seth, and then he needed to claim his Raven.

  Jessy Hilleary grasped the railing leading out of the morgue. Her muted-peach cocktail dress stained pink with melted snow and blood.

  Raven’s blood.

  A sob wracked her, knots twisting in her stomach as her legs finally gave out.

  Jessy pulled her knees up to her chest, aching and numb from the cold. A fresh trickle of blood finding its way down her leg from the cut she’d received earlier this evening. She shivered, closing her eyes as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

  A warm hand on the back of her neck made her jerk. “Babe, let me take you home?” Brown eyes gazed through glasses, reflecting blue and red lights—never once had she seen herself as a witness on the other end of those lights.

  James crouched down beside her, running his hand down the blazer jacket he had given her to wear. “Rave was murdered, James.” She said coldly.

  James let out a sigh, his breath a thick white steam against the winter night air.

  “I know. Dr. Jones is doing the autopsy on that thing… God, I don’t even know what to call it.”

  Jessy shuddered at the thought that that creature had sunk its fangs into Raven’s neck. She’d stepped out of the main hall after watching Chetlér leave, only to find Raven missing. Gut instinct had moved her forward. She recalled seeing the crisp crimson splatters in the faint moonlight, stark against the white snow. It had been a horror scene, playing out in slow motion, her mind suspecting what to expect but her heart wasn’t ready. She’d screamed when she’d seen him. His eyes wide, blood still spilling from the gash in his neck, Raven stretching out his arms for help, words leaving his lips but no sound coming from them.

  Jessy’s screams echoed again and again in her mind.

  “…A hybrid of some sort, a mutilated mutation. Dr. Jones said he would need an expert. How in God’s name can we find a fucking expert on this shit…?” James’ words faded out again.

  The memories assaulted Jessy once more, playing over and over in her head. She had seen dead bodies, she had witnessed death, but this was different.

  “He just laid there, James, I could see it in his eyes. He was begging me, pleading for help.” She had run over to him, stumbled in the snow, Raven’s blood ruining her dress. “I didn’t know what to do.”

  With trembling hands, she’d gently reached for Raven’s head, holding it up as delicately as she could. Raven had coughed bright blood, painting his lips and chin. He’d stared up at her. Lips moving slightly, wording, “Help.”

  “I didn’t know how to help him!” Jessy shouted angrily and threw her arms around James, sobbing against him.

  The image she was trying to avoid most was now clear behind her lids.

  The creature.

  A wet hand covered in boils had grasped her thigh and all she could do was jostle back and scream as the thing gurgled up black blood where it lay next to Raven. Even in the creature’s dying state, it reached for him. Its gray skin tight against bone, like old leather; cracked and peeling, black slop seeping from the splits. Its scalp and brows absent of hair. But its eyes…in that moment Jessy knew the thing had been in pain, that it was driven by
madness and starvation. But the eyes…

  “Its eyes were gouged out…” Jessy trembled, “just empty holes.”

  The creature had flared its nostrils, pushing more black gore from its nose and smiled at her. Teeth stained black, mouth torn at the seams. It spoke. The words like a children’s nursery rhyme.

  “He is coming…for all of us…Death.”

  Its voice was weak and, at the same time, bone chilling. Jessy knew she would never forget it.

  “It was human once.” She hugged James tighter. Her voice lost against his chest.

  “Someone had to have led or brought it there,” James spoke against her hair.

  Jessy pulled back from him. The fire in her veins spread to her fingertips. She clenched her fist, gritting out, “Chetlér.”

  “Whoa, wow, babe, hang on.” James cupped her cheek and swiped away a lost tear. “I know you got the evil for the guy but that’s one grim accusation, and why—”

  “He is a monster, one of the worst.” She turned away, rubbing at her palms.

  James reached for Jessy’s hands, gently taking them in his. “Jessy, think about this, he hosted the ball, donated it to the department for free. And didn’t you say they sucked face outside Rave’s office the morning you arrived?”

  “That’s what they do!” She pulled her fingers away. “Demons manipulate you, they play on your feelings, trick you, and then they just take what they need from you.” Jessy squeezed her lids, and slumped against James.

  “How ‘bout I take you to my place? I’ll have the sofa, think on this tomorrow, but right now you need some rest, babe. Please.”

  James’ voice was low and weary next to her—neither had gotten any sleep since the incident, they had gone straight from the ball to the morgue.

  No, not an incident, Raven’s murder.

  Jessy placed a shaky hand in his, grateful for the heat and strength in them as James helped her up.

  “You got an extra tee I can borrow?”

  James grinned. “Only if I can run you a warm bath and make you some hot cocoa?”

  “You’re such a charming prick.” She gave the weakest of smiles and leaned into his warmth. “Thanks.” He rested his arm across her shoulders and steered her to his car.

  Jessy stopped in her tracks. “It was also the day Raven got attacked by the Hellhound.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Before, when we went for brunch at The Drunken God, Rave was investigating something else, a rumor of experimentation being done on supers.”

  James stared at her. “You mean to tell me that…that thing is a result of some fucked up psycho’s idea of playing mad scientist? Babe... Just gross.” He visibly shook himself as he shivered.

  “Maybe, but it’s what Raven said to me in the hospital after the attack, Chetlér was the one who first brought it to his attention.”

  James pushed back a lock of hair that had gotten stuck on one of her lashes, when the wind had blown it against her face. He pleaded with her, “Jessy, listen to yourself—a rumor, you know these things are mostly false leads. Let the Doc do his autopsy, it’s going to take at least a couple of hours and—”

  “Who’s the Enforcer here?” she challenged him.

  James pouted, then smirked. “You are, babe, but right now, I’m Prince Prick Charming, and I say you’re going home with me, soak in a tub and drink my damn cocoa, then off to bed with you… and don’t make me say woman.” James rolled his eyes.

  She kissed the smirk right off James’ face.

  Pale sunlight played against her skin, forcing her to face the day. The sight of the creamy ass next to her, complete with nail scratches still prominently red against the flesh, made her sit up.

  How the fuck did this happen? God!

  Jessy jumped out of bed… Fuck, naked, really?

  She shook her head and peered around the bedroom, with its bare brick walls and massive industrial windows letting in way too much winter sun, seeking out her clothes…and the time. She groaned when she realized she only had the cocktail dress still stained with blood. That thought alone made her stomach turn as the emotions wrenched at her again.

  “Babe?” The groggy voice, muffled by a pillow, asked.

  She turned to stare at James as he rolled to his side. His stomach taut with rippling abs, unusual for such a thin man. James’ skin almost as pale white as the cream colored sheets. She couldn’t stop her gaze from trailing down his stomach to the black pubic hair—trimmed she noted—and then gaped.

  Surely she hadn’t put that in her mouth. Braces plus cock usually did not go well.

  And, damn was he thick and long and—

  “See something you like?” As if on cue that snake between his legs perked its head. James had a goofy smile plastered on his face, lids still half closed.

  Jessy turned, saw her dress next to the bathroom door—she had no idea where her underwear ended up—and quickly made her way over, shutting the door behind her.

  She rested against the door, waiting for James to call her out.

  “I’ll get you a cup of coffee,” he voiced loudly.

  Jessy listened to the sound of bare feet trotting out of the room followed by the bedroom door closing.

  She was more than aware of the tenderness between her legs. Who wouldn’t be after fucking James? But the actual fucking part? She hadn’t come to Quebec to find a boyfriend, neither was it her intention to sleep with the prick. They had only gone out on four dates since they’d met at the graveyard, and though he was charming in an eerie kind of way, he wasn’t the type of guy she would normally date, let alone sleep with. It was beside the point. She’d come here to be an enforcer, and lastly, maybe, to confront her father—never anticipating to meet Raven, care for him as she did.

  During the three weeks he’d spent in hospital and confined to his desk, Jessy had gotten to know not just Raven, but also why the paras and supers had come to him without hesitation. He’d treated them differently than most enforcers would—the ones in New York were inconsiderate piles of shit compared to Rave, they were just plain horrible towards para and super-kind. Raven had believed there was good in them, worthy enough to be handled like any other individual and not as freakazoids. He would actually take the time to hear what they had to say. Stop whatever he was doing, sit with them, and listen intently. So why would someone try to kill him? Her thoughts fell short. Raven was dead.

  She glared at herself in the mirror, aware of the pale freckled face and a haunted look in her eyes.

  “Why is everyone wanting to suck the good out of the world?” Is Fate really such a cruel bitch?

  She turned on the tap and was splashing cold water on her face when James knocked on the door.

  “I got some old sweat pants, a tee and sweater you can borrow. I’ll also lend you my overcoat.”

  She forcibly smiled at the sweet gesture.

  “I’d have taken the dress and have it dry cleaned, but it’s most likely going to be evidence.”

  James was right. “Thanks. Just bag it. I’ll take it with me to the station.”

  He said nothing after that, and she held her breath to the sound of his footsteps receding from the bedroom. Last night’s cocoa, spiked with chocolate liquor, had quickly progressed to some vodka and—

  God, did we use protection? She hoped, but could not recall foil being torn open during the night. She turned, scanning the bathroom. The small shower basin and toilet were clean, too clean for a straight guy living on his own. She reached over to grasp the towel from the rail and brought it to her nose. It smelled fresh…the ones she’d used last night, after her soak in the tub, were gone. She quickly made work of popping in the shower, smeared some of James’ toothpaste on her finger, rubbed it on her teeth and rinsed out her mouth.

  The shower lasted too long. Images keep flashing in her mind from last night. His lips had been everywhere. On her neck, across her collarbone, his breath hot against her ribs. James’s mouth sw
eetly making love to her breasts and down her stomach. She had to catch her breath and hold onto the bed sheets as that mouth explored between her thighs—nipping the folds between her hips and pussy—down her legs, all the way to her feet, then back up her calves, leaving wet kisses and teeth scrapes behind her knees. God. Pleasure so intense it had made her scream out. The bastard had even gone between her ass cheeks as his fingers ventured up her back, mapping the sensitive skin below her shoulder blades and delicate ridges of her spine.

  Jessy flushed, feeling heat blossom in her belly. James’ lips and tongue had done some heavy hoodoo all on their own. He’d held back from taking his own pleasure until she had been cursing at him to fill her.

  And he so did. She still felt tender, and yet found herself running her fingers down her stomach and over her swollen labia. James knew how to make a woman forget. And remember.

  But that was not the biggest of surprises… no, they were minuscule in comparison to the last memory. After he had brought them both to the sweating mess of climax, the prick had gone down on her again, sampling the creamy nectar of their primal fucking with those devil lips.

  She shuddered, dragging herself from the shower and suppressing any and all memories of last night in bed with James. Because, goddamn it, she had fucking loved it.

  Her need to get to the precinct and convince the Captain that Chetlér was the lead suspect outweighed her current predicament. Last night Cap had stubbornly refused to regard the demon as such. If only they could comprehend a fraction of the demon Jessy knew Chetlér to be.

  Jessy stepped out of the bathroom, eyeing the bedroom suspiciously, the bed had been made. The room clinically clean. Too damn fucking clean. There was a plastic zip bag holding her dress and shoes next to the perfectly folded clothes laid out for her.

  A strong whiff of frying bacon and coffee drifted in the air as she walked from bedroom in to the hall with the zip bag and overcoat in her left hand. She could hear the sound of a washing machine running and the low hum of some love song playing in the background.

  Jessy wanted to throw up. There was no way James could be real. She found him over the sink washing dishes. Really? Fuck no. She turned and sneaked to the front door. She had just unclicked the latch as quietly as possible when his breath lapped at the back of her neck. “Leaving so soon, babe?” Fingers gently touched her elbow.