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

by Wulf Francu Godgluck

  Very personal.

  The first murder victim had been Landon’s husband. Solving Jeremy’s death, and finding his killer, was Landon’s last tribute as an apology for the broken marriage that had been too doomed to be fixed.

  Jessy had stumbled onto the information while speaking to Raven in the hospital, when she’d informed him under whom she did her internship while studying criminal law.

  Raven had mentioned that, despite Landon and Jeremy’s eventual separation, they had still loved each other deeply. It had been a week after their final parting that Landon had gone over to Jeremy’s apartment to finalize and sign the documentation. Landon had found his husband tied to the dining room table, naked, his chest split open, neck to his groin, and his internal organs, along with his tongue and eyes, neatly displayed in glass jars next to him. Landon hadn’t been the same man since.

  “I’m sorry,” Jessy whispered. She doubted Landon even heard her as he zipped past, strutting towards the stairs that would take him to the Captain’s office. Jessy stuck close to him, grimacing at his shirt, drenched with sweat.

  “How do we do this, Red-locks?” Landon glanced at her, that black hellstorm still alive and feral in his gaze.

  “I really couldn’t be bothered with what you do; just make sure you leave Ryder’s throat on the floor when you’re done. I want to watch him bleed and choke to death.”

  “What the piss fuck is the bloody American filth doing here!” Landon burst through the door, slamming the wood with his hand and almost taking the door with him.

  “Voss, I need you to reel it in for me, real fast.” Abby’s voice was close to a growl.

  Jessy snuck in quietly, guilt eating her gut at seeing the Captain with her hands anchored on her desk, her face pastel, dark ringed blemishes evident beneath her eyes. Jessy knew she had caused most of it. Cap had been so adamant about Raven’s death report, it was worrisome.

  “It’s lovely to see you again, Voss. You’ve been keeping that cold, dead heart of yours cozy all this time… What’s it been now, almost six years?” Ryder stretched out in the chair, his black hair combed back, curling around his neck line. At least the ponytail he’d once worn had died. Salt and pepper stubble grazed his jaws, more salt than anything else. His frame still filled out the suit he wore. Jessy knew how obsessed the man was with keeping fit, almost as much as his cock loved visiting the vee between a different set of female thighs every night.

  He didn’t even look at her, but his words sent an icy shower rushing through Jessy’s blood. “How you been, sweet Jesssssi-ca?” He tilted his head in her direction, his diluted-gray gaze sweeping over her. Bastard. He even smiled that charismatic grin that he used to hook in his prey, and fuck, not right now! Jessy needed her libido to get with the fucking program, for God sakes! But she couldn’t help the clench her sex made when Ryder licked his lips and bit on the bottom one. Jessy glared at the turquoise ceramic horse’s head sitting on Cap’s desk. She hoped it was heavy enough to break Ryder’s face, because she was seriously close to smashing it into him with each sweep of his eyes undressing her.

  “What do you mean he’s here to investigate the missing Supers?” Jessy was thankful for Landon’s rumble pulling her and Ryder’s attention away from each other. “We got our own enforcers to do that!”

  “Sorry, Detective Voss, Miss Hilleary, but the missing supers’ cases are also being reported in New York, New Jersey, Vermont, Michigan and Toron—

  “And so far,” Ryder interjected as if his voice and opinion were important, “all my leads point to here.” Ryder crossed his legs, hands resting on his knee, fingers woven into each other.

  Jessy’s lips twitched in disgust. Did Ryder have to sound so sexy and be a dick at the same time?

  Landon tuned to Ryder, his face almost purple with anger, sweat beading on his forehead, the stains under his arms already expanding. Jessy felt sorry for him in that moment. Compared to Ryder when it came to appearance, etiquette and professionalism, Ryder outranked Landon five-hundred to nothing. “We don’t need you shoving your crooked cock-nose in our business. Besides,” Landon was tipping the tension a little too close, when he advanced two steps, grabbed the chair’s arms and leaned over Ryder.

  “You’ll never be as good as Detective White.” He growled, lifted the chair with Ryder in it a couple of inches off the floor, and, “You’re a shit molecule compared to him!” slammed it back down.

  “Detective Landon!” Cap’s voice boomed, but Ryder wasn’t fazed, not even rattled.

  “Yes, about Detective White.” Ryder simply reached for his notepad and pen, flipped the page, while Landon huffed in his face, and started writing. “I’m so sorry to hear about him, guess his superlativeness didn’t keep him alive long. And since you, Mr.Voss, were the primary taking Miss Hilleary’s statement, we’ll be having a little chit-chat with regards to that night.”

  Landon finally peeled his clenched fists from the chair’s arms, stood and snorted, “You can go fuck yourself, Tsouras, on nice big, fat pole of splintering wood. I’ll even loan you some Crisco, but Hell would shrivel up and die, pissing out its own shit, before Detective White would allow anyone to solve his own death.”

  He turned to Jessy, his right eye a pale-blue, the left hazel, both holding so much pain and anger inside them, she fought the tears blurring her own gaze.

  Jessy turned to the Captain, handing her the coroner’s report, knowing it said one thing. Body missing?!?!

  Cap held up the file, her hands trembled so uncontrollably that the report slipped from the folder once she’d managed to open it.

  Jessy needed to keep this short and quick. “The break-in that was reported at the sports shop on the twenty-fourth of December, was Raven.” Cap froze, halfway bending behind her desk. “When I got to the morgue, I was as shocked as you are now.” Jessy’s voice quavered, “Raven’s turned. He eventually ended up at Professor Bloodimir’s house. I’m not certain of the details as to what happened there, but if it wasn’t for Mr. Chetlér… I don’t know. I didn’t tell you, Captain, because I knew you guys were close and…” She swallowed at the silence from Abby. “Right now Raven is a danger to himself and others, as he’s still transitioning; we’re not sure what the end result will be.”

  “Well, this’s quite int—”

  Cap’s voice was a glacier calving. “Get out, Tsouras.”

  Ryder leaned over in his chair, his baleful gaze sharp, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Captain—

  “I don’t care what you think, I have not, and will not authorize your liaison with my department, so you might as well pack your bags and catch the next flight home.”

  He pushed off his chair, and said, with a slight smile on his pale lips, “We’ll see about that, Captain Abigail Côté.”

  Jessy’s phone screamed. All eyes in the room glaring at her blazer pocket. It was a ring tone she had specifically set to one person’s number. She didn’t care for the attention on her as she pulled it from her jacket and answered.

  “Hello.”

  “I’m going to find Méric,” Chetlér’s words rippled dark and deep, coming loudly through the phone, forcing Jessy to pull it away from her ear. It was one of the reasons she hated touch phones, because each time she answered, for some fucked-up reason, she placed it on speaker.

  “And when I do.” As the demon continued, the cross scar on Jessy’s right hand began to burn, forcing the promise back into her mind, that Bla’Gar had sworn during the blood contract he’d made with her. “I am going to kill him. I am going to pull his jaw from his mouth slowly, and I will enjoy each and every pathetic, sickening, bone-crunching-sound that rips from his chest, and once he is dead, I am going to drag his carcass straight to Hell.”

  The silence in the office was pierced only by the polar chill of darkness seeping through the phone from Chetlér’s voice, and Jessy knew this darkness. So black it touched her bones and rasped its talons over her soul. Even Ryder stood like stone, not dari
ng to draw breath as the dark presence squeezed their chests.

  “Méric stole my Raven. I suspect he has taken him exactly to where Seth is being held. You can try to stop me, Detective, but, do not blame me for the carnage I am about to spill on this world for even daring to harm the man I love. I suggest you bring backup and a mopping crew. I will send you my location once I am done beautifying the soil with their blood.”

  The line beeped, leaving an annoying tone to pulse in the dead office.

  Jessy gasped for breath, Landon panting behind her. Ryder clutched his hand to his throat.

  But the Captain stood, unfazed. The click of her gun, the slip of it into her holster, and then, “Tsouras, I thought I told you to go home!”

  The man glowered at Cap for a brief moment. “This is not over,” he snapped and stormed from the office.

  Abby stopped in front of the picture window overlooking the street below.

  “I’m fucking angry, but also very relieved.” She turned to them, moisture lines tracking down her cheeks. “I’m hurt over this secrecy, this betrayal, by you two. Raven wasn’t just my colleague, he was my friend. We served together as partners when we were still parole officers.”

  She stared at Landon. “I want to promise you something. Tsouras will never set his feet in this precinct ever again.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Landon rumbled, gratitude shimmering in his eyes.

  Her gaze darted to Jessy. “As much as I want to turn a blind eye and deaf ear to what Mr. Chetlér is about to do, I’m also an officer of the law. I need you to stop him, find out where Raven is being taken and held, then we can form a plan. We need to be quick about this.”

  “Sorry, Captain.” Jessy nervously stepped forward. “I received a tip where some of the kidnapped supers are being dropped off and then transported.” She held out the small piece of paper to Abby.

  Cap snatched it, giving the paper a quick glance before holding it out to Landon.

  Shit, this was a fuckery that could end really badly. Landon was a forensic graphologist recognized by Association des Graphologues du Quebec.

  Jessy snagged her bottom lip with her teeth, her fingers itching to grab the paper away before Landon could touch it, but it was too late. The man had it in his palm, glaring at the writing, his beefy fingers enveloping the small piece of parchment in a butcher’s grip. Jessy waited for the man to confront her on the spot, but Landon just stood there, unmoving.

  “What would you like me to do, Captain?” Landon’s voice came stiff, deep and eerie.

  “Take a team with you, four men. I want you to only keep watch, do not interfere, but observe and follow. I know this is not what you—”

  “It doesn’t matter, as much as Rave and I bang heads, I still care about him. He is still part of this precinct. A precinct that has been the only family he’s had for the past twelve years. Whatever you need, I’m here to provide my help.”

  Landon’s words pulled a string in Jessy’s heart, ripping it right out.

  “And, Landon,” Cap’s right eyebrow rose, “You need a shower.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Landon turned and left, his brisk steps resounding on the hallway floor.

  Jessy stepped outside the office several minutes later, pulling Cap’s door closed. Her ears still bled from Cap chewing them off with a firm lecture about withholding information. It was a verbal warning, and Jessy wasn’t about to forget it anytime soon.

  When the door clicked, she peered up, her heart stopping for a slight second at Landon’s bulky silhouette leaning against the wall.

  “You mind telling me what the fuck this shit is?” His voice was calm but tight, and that terrified Jessy even more. At least when Landon was cursing and spitting out a storm, most knew it was nothing new or threatening. “Why is Aden’s handwriting on this paper?” Jessy could barely distinguish the slight tremor to his voice when he said Aden’s name.

  She didn’t know what to say. When she’d contacted Aden, the man had sworn only to meet her on the condition that she wouldn’t utter a word about who he worked for to anyone, she assumed that included—especially—Landon.

  “You need to ask him yourself. It’s not my place to say… Whatever his connection to this, I don’t believe he’s directly involved. Even if someone did find him guilty, it’s not as if we have the authority to do anything about it.” She left Landon there, but he grabbed her before she could descend the stairs.

  “It was quite a feat to use my past against me and rattle me up against Ryder. I have to applaud you on that. Jeremy was my entire world, and when I lost him, everything became dead to me, but then came a beautiful boy with the coldest blue eyes, yearning to be touched, to be cared for, begging to know love, and for the first time in nine-soul-bleeding years, I felt my heart beat again.”

  Landon didn’t say anything as he passed her, turned at the corner, heading for the men’s locker room. But the unspoken threat chilled Jessy to the core.

  “I brought this one.” He dropped the body to the floor, still seeping black-blue gore from where he had clawed into the thing’s white flesh. His chest heaved, wet from the melted snow that had clung to his torso and body hair as he’d dragged the man through the wilderness. His own wounds had already healed. “Seems one of the experiments escaped, but left us a promising gift.” Méric’s face stung in tender pain as his lips moved, a reminder of what Lucas had left him with. But soon, very soon, Méric would steal Seth’s alpha status, and then there were puppy-dogs to be taught some manners. That was, if Seth wasn’t raped to death before then.

  In disgust and raw anger, he kicked the Enforcer in the ribs and shuddered a happy song to the sound-splitting-crunch as he fragmented a rib. Or two. The weakened body rolled from the force of his kick, hitting pale white legs and slumping at the owner’s bare feet.

  Méric trailed his gaze from where the naked detective lay, up over the slab-of-flesh-suit, riddled with muscle, straight into amethyst-colored eyes.

  “Be aware that Bla’Gar favors this human; he was once a very valued and respected Enforcer.”

  “Bla’Gar!” Kalal choked, his jaw moving right, then left at a twisted and dislodged angle making sick creaking sounds. “That fledgling is a fly in my eyes. I was a demon long before he was defecating inside his mother’s womb. But this...” A black tentacle curled from his hip and coiled around the Enforcer’s neck, lifting him and dangling the, almost lifeless, body. “This one already belongs to me.” He squinted, licking his teeth. “As your father and mother were, and your blood line before them.” He sensed the mutt and the human female frowning at him. “It’s not a matter for your concern.” He smiled, meeting their gazes. “A simple clause in the blood treaty I had made long, long ago with Eugène François Vidocq that would give Eugène and his bloodline the advanced capability to solve crimes, and I to collect all the souls his lineage would produce. This one is Eugène’s last, not that this one relied on that ability much.”

  “But he’s also my experiment,” Lidia stepped forward, her heels clicking that annoying clack someone needed to murder soon. Her white dress, nothing more than a piece of cloth wrapped tightly around her slim body, reflected the light like cat’s eyes when she stepped out of the shadows. The garment’s double hip-high slits revealing her long tanned and slender legs, parading those annoying leather straps human females called shoes. “As Méric said, he shows promise.” She trailed her manicured nails down the white flesh of the Enforcer’s inner thigh. Her rich, chocolate-brown hair gave warmth to a face that possessed as much emotion as a corpse.

  “Throw him in with new puppy that tastes so good.” Kalal slung the body at Méric, squealing in delight from the thud as the meat-sack clashed against the floor, followed by the swack the Enforcer’s skull made on the concrete.

  Méric simply pushed out his claws, pierced the Enforcer’s calf and hauled him towards holding cell 178.

  “Careful, you ape!” Lidia let out a vehement sound, “You can be lucky enough tha
t you interrupted my evening with something auspicious. If you had called me here for nothing, your lungs would be in my laboratory, cooking in a jar about now.”

  Méric growled, shrugged, and continued to drag the Enforcer along, his nails tearing the flesh further with each pull.

  Kalal narrowed his gaze at the Enforcer one last time. There was something different about this one. Even though the body was silent, Kalal could hear the repeated moaning of the soul inside, more than likely from the pleasure of being fucked by its darker self. It wouldn’t be long until the original soul was all but gone forever and the darkness completely took over. Raven White would make a very powerful demon indeed, unless of course, the original soul gained the upper hand. It didn’t matter which one was left in the end, Kalal would still enjoy torturing either of them.

  Blood. Blue-black pools stained the bright crimson. Some of it seeping into the azure flames, sizzling and bubbling in the heat. The prison Raven had been held in had one flaw. The blood used to trace the circle’s outline would immure the donor within the prison once it had been set alight. But, the moment another’s plasma dripped onto the original trail of blood, the spell would be rendered useless. Bla’Gar followed the spills of gore, clearly distinguishing who the new red blood belonged to.

  Méric needed to die a slow and vile death, and once that transpired, Bla’Gar would find some way—any way—to open the gates of Hell again, even if he had to rip the dimensions apart, and deal Méric a personal blessing of agony, eon after eon.

  He glared at his shattered mobile device. Partly melted, it still puffed smoke, smelling of burnt plastic with the screen incinerated following his call to Jessy. He was well aware of his dark power seeping through, but couldn’t care.

  The restriction of the human realm was maddening. He pressed his hand into the pool of blood, coating his nails, and started to draw on the concrete. Satisfied with Belail’s symbol, Bla’Gar closed his eyes and leaned his naked form against the wall, waiting for Bruce.