The Knights of Darkness Chronicles 01 - Desires Unleashed

by D N Simmons

  Warren was awakened by the ringing of his cell phone's annoying little tone. He searched through his pile of clothes on the floor and found the little silver phone. He flipped it open, lifting it to his ear.

  “Hello?” he asked groggily.

  “Warren, this is Matthew. Look, we have ourselves another body. I need you here at 95th street, east of Jeffery. Did you get that?” Matthew seemed tired and stressed at the same time. Warren was worried about him.

  “Yeah, I got that. Hey, are you okay?”

  “Me? Yeah I'm fine. I just don't like the feeling I'm getting about this case.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.” Warren thought about the other theory that Xander had given him about the murder. He didn't want to dismiss it without sharing it with his partner. “Look, I've been thinking about another scenario. Just hear me out. What if one of the rebel humanist groups committed this murder to make the supernatural race look bad so that congress would reverse the bounty hunter law?” (A law established at the beginning of the Exposure, before the S.U.I.T. organization was created, that allowed individuals the opportunity to obtain bounty hunter licenses to hunt down and kill suspected supernaturals.)

  There was a silence over the phone, then Matthew spoke. “It's doubtful. How could a human rip off a head and slowly?”

  “It could be done and easily. Think about it. They could have drained the body and then tied it to a machine and stretched the neck until the head snapped. I know it's farfetched but I don't want to rule it out. Right now, we need all the leads and motives we can get,” Warren said as he glanced at the clock. The time was 6:15 A.M. A most ungodly hour by any standards. He looked over his shoulder as he felt Adrian stir behind him. The phone had awakened them both and Adrian was probably still awake, listening to every word he and Matthew said.

  “Well it's a motive, that's for sure, but you need to see the condition of this body before we further explore that option. Oh and Warren...?” Matthew started.

  “Yeah?”

  “You may want to eat some of that steak tartar you like so much. Because this one isn't nearly as nice as the last. Okay, I'll be waiting on your ass to get here.” The phone clicked off and then came the buzz that meant the connection was long gone.

  “You're leaving?” Adrian asked in a groggy voice.

  “Yeah, I've got a case I'm working on,” Warren said as he climbed out of the bed to head to the bathroom for a quick shower. Adrian rose up on his elbow, watching the naked form of his lover enter the illuminated room. He heard the water running and decided it would be nice to share a shower. Throwing back the sheets, he climbed out of the bed determined to follow Warren into the shower.

  “Who told you I wanted to share,” Warren stated, watching as Adrian climb into the shower, closing the frosted glass door behind him.

  “I thought you could use some company. Besides, someone has to wash your back,” Adrian said as he reached for a washcloth and began lathering it up. “Turn around,” he said playfully. He worked the soapy rag over Warren's shoulders and back, then massaged his butt cheeks, making Warren chuckle. Adrian loved the feel of Warren's muscular, trim figure. He enjoyed running his hands over the soft, dark hair dusting his tanned skin.

  “I swear, you're so damn predictable it's not even funny. Look, I can't shower with you like this now. So let me just rinse off and get out,” Warren said, moving away from Adrian as fast as he could, or he wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. He stood under the nozzle as the warm water rinsed off his soapy body.

  Adrian watched the suds cascade down his lover's body, smiling to himself. He climbed out of the shower first, toweled himself off, then handed Warren a towel when he climbed out. Adrian walked back to the bed, laid down and began chatting with Warren as he quickly dressed.

  “So this case must be about shape-shifters or vampires or some shit like that since the S.U.I.T. division was called in,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah, but I'm still not sure which one. There is a new body I have to view today. I told Xander about the first one and he's not sure if it's a shape-shifter or not. I caught the scent of one of us in the vicinity, but not on the body, so it's hard to tell what the fuck is going on,” Warren said as he finished tying his boots. He enjoyed wearing blue jeans, t-shirt and boots.

  “So what else did my father say? Which supernatural race does he think the murderer is? I know how he tries to find one of our kind, before the humans do and set them on the right path. But from what you're telling me, I don't think he's going to interfere with this one,” Adrian said as he settled more comfortably in the bed.

  “Well, he thinks it could be one or the other as well as a rebel humanist group trying to set us up.”

  Adrian chuckled softly. “Well, you know my dad.”

  “Yeah, I know. Okay, I've got to go. I'll probably be back, but for now, I have to go to work.” As Warren walked past the bed, Adrian's hand darted out, catching hold of his wrist. He pulled Warren close to him and planted a huge, sloppy kiss, thrusting his tongue into Warren's mouth, giving him a reminder of their activities earlier that morning. He finally released him.

  “Okay, now you can go to work.” He smiled and pulled the sheets over his head.

  Warren looked at him and couldn't help but smile. He did miss Adrian and his body tingled still with the sensations of what they had done only three hours earlier. Picking up his truck keys, he left the room. He traveled along I-55, heading back to Chicago.

  CHAPTER 10

  Natasha woke up to see a young nurse checking her IV. She licked her dry lips to moisten them. Her head hurt, along with her arm, back and neck. She touched the bandage on her forehead and found the source of the throbbing inside her head.

  “May I have some water?” she asked the nurse, her voice sounding as dry as her throat felt.

  “Sure,” the nurse said in a most cheerful voice. She stood five-feet-two inches. Her dark brown hair was combed back into a bun. She wore a multicolored-floral printed shirt with white pants. Smiling at Natasha, she reached over to the nightstand, poured Natasha a tall glass of water and handed it to her. “Here, now drink this, but drink it slowly. You have a mild concussion and some cuts and bruises, but you'll be okay. You were lucky to have survived. God blessed you,” the nurse said as she kissed the little silver cross that dangled from the silver chain around her neck. Natasha forced herself to remember what happened.

  “There was another woman with me, is she okay?” Natasha asked somewhat frightened but still groggy from the drugs she had been given.

  “Your friend is okay, she suffered a broken arm and some minor cuts and bruises. She'll be fine.” The nurse continued to check her chart and fiddle with the bedding. “There, are you comfy?” she asked, smiling. Natasha nodded.

  “Which hospital am I in? How long have I been here? What happened to the drivers?” Natasha asked consecutively.

  “You're at County General Hospital, you came in several hours ago. I'm not sure about the two drivers, I think it's going to be on the news. Right now you need to get some rest, doctors orders. Oh,” the nurse replied, looking at her chart “I wanted to know if you're on any type of medication?”

  “Yes. I take prescription medicine for my headaches. I've been taking it since I was a child. But, I did not take my medicine last night because I knew I'd be drinking. The last thing I remember was feeling really sick, my head was hurting and spinning at the same time. And I fell asleep in the cab...” Natasha said as she struggled to remember the events of last night.

  “Do you remember the name of the medication you're taking?” the nurse asked as she scribbled words down on Natasha's chart.

  “Yeah, Triadonex, is there a problem?” she asked.

  The nurse looked up from her writing and smiled. She shook her head. “Oh heavens no, it's just better for both of us to know if our patients have any medications they're taking or allergies. Speaking of allergies, do you have any?”

  Natasha thought about it
for a minute. “No. I don't believe I do.”

  “Excellent. Now you lay back and get some rest. The bathroom is over here if you need to use the restroom. And here's my call button, right here,” the nurse pointed to a red button beside the bed. “And the remote control for the TV, here,” she informed as she gestured to a black controller on the table. They will be serving breakfast in about fifteen minutes. Is there anything else you need?” The nurse stood there to see if Natasha had any other questions. Natasha shook her head.

  “Okay, call me if you need me,” the nurse said as she covered Natasha up to her neck in sheets. She placed the chart on the edge of the bed and left the room. Natasha didn't know what had happened. She was concerned about the drivers, but it was the vision she received seconds before the accident that worried her. Did she have a premonition? Or was it just a freak coincidence? She thought about the man she took the keys from. That bastard bartender must have given the damn keys back! She hoped he would be fined for that. You just don't let people drive drunk, and now two people might be dead since the nurse did not mention that they were brought to the hospital with her and Annette, the two injured. She was angry and sad, it all could have been avoided.

  She looked around the little room. She could hear the beep and clicks of the machines along with the soft snores from the patient next to her. She looked over at the narrow bed to her left and saw an elderly lady asleep. Her wrinkly pink flesh took on a pale luster. There was a thin layer of sweat on the woman's skin. Natasha watched her chest rise and fall at a normal pace. She continued to survey the room. There was a little thirteen inch color TV suspended from the wall in the far upper left corner of the room. Two cloth upholstered chairs sat in the room, one by the elderly patient's bed and one beside her own. The room had white plastered walls with a white cement-tiled floor. There was a huge window on the far left wall. The curtains were closed to prevent the morning sun from shining in. The sun was exactly what Natasha wanted to see, just to make sure she survived for real. The bathroom was conveniently only a few feet away from her bed, for which she was grateful, The pressure in her bladder was almost unbearable. She pulled the thick white sheets away from her neck, slowly slid both legs to the side of the bed, scooting her aching body off the edge.

  She had never felt such pain. Her whole body felt like it had been hit by a truck. Once when she was a child, she had fallen from a tree while climbing up to her best friend's tree house, dislocating her shoulder. Until this moment, that had been the worst pain she had ever felt. Every muscle in her body ached. Standing up straight was proving to be more difficult than she had thought. She felt a painful spasm through her body as she tried to stand. Crying out, she had to grab hold of the steel bar on the side of her bed to keep from falling.

  She could feel the effects of the painkiller wearing off and thought hastily about reaching for the nurse's button, pushing it repeatedly and asking for a dose of the good shit. Once again, she was reminded of the need in her bladder and had to cross her legs tightly to keep from having an accident. The last thing she wanted was to have to push the nurse's button to report that she had wet herself. No, that was not an option. She took hold of her IV stand, put one foot in front of the other, forcing her body to work those aching muscles.

  Once inside the bathroom, she closed the door, turning the little lock to secure her privacy. She looked at the toilet with the steel bars on either side. She remembered being in the hospital when she dislocated her shoulder as a child and wanting to play with all of the gadgets inside the hospital room. Now, all she wanted to do was leave and never come back. She hated hospitals. She always felt like the germs were just hovering in the air, that with every breath you took, you were bound to catch something. Whenever she had to visit a person in the hospital, she tried very hard to hold her breath as she walked down the halls. Holding her breath now was not an option. At least her roommate wasn't coughing up a lung over there in the other bed, or she might have panicked. She was never very good around sick people.

  She squatted over the little white toilet, balancing herself over the opening. Gripping the steel bars for support, she released the pressure in her bladder. She felt tiny, pleasurable tingles work their way through her limbs, causing her to shiver just a bit. It was funny to think about all the little things that can bring pleasure at any given time, at least she thought it was funny. After she finished, she washed her hands with the little, brown, square soap. Natasha considered taking the toiletries when she checked out. She slowly walked back to her bed, feeling tired. She looked at the clock on the wall, noticing that the time was 6:50 A.M., she may have only had about four or five hours of sleep. Natasha tried to remember what time it was when she left the club with Annette.

  “Annette!” She thought about her friend's condition. Feeling sorry for her, she wanted to go and visit Annette. She would give her a chance to rest first. She would visit her later, hoping she would be feeling better herself by then, making for better company. She climbed back into the bed slowly, pulling the thick white covers over her head. She lay still thinking about the freaky dream she had before the crash. It unnerved her that she could see something like that coming and know who would be the cause of it.

  She wondered how she had done that. Natasha thought about what could have caused the connection. In the vision she had of the man, who was probably dead, she saw him drop his keys on the ground. She remembered picking up his keys. She couldn't explain any of it. As she lay there in the narrow bed, she thought about all the events that led up to the crash. She had not taken her medicine that night and had gotten drunk for the first time in her life, (though she vowed never to drink again.) She thought that might have had something to do with the “premonition”, maybe it was just a freak thing that happened. Maybe she just dreamed about the man since he was the last thing on her mind before she had drifted off to sleep.

  Maybe she had felt the blinding lights on her closed eyelids which made her open her eyes in the first place to see the headlights reflecting in the rearview mirror. It made sense to her, that must be it and nothing more. She decided that was the most logical answer for what happened. She snuggled deeper under the sheets, drifting off to sleep. This time, the only dream was about her friend sleeping in a little narrow bed with white linen sheets like hers.

  CHAPTER 11

  Warren took the less crowded exit off the I-90 expressway. He hated the city's rush hour traffic, people always drove at their worst. They would race to get to work on time before they were fired or written up. Then, after the grind of the work day, everyone's rushing to pick up their kids, groceries and get home in time to cook and enjoy a little prime-time TV before starting the rat race all over again the next day. An erratic driver cut him off causing him to swerve his car. He thought about letting him go, so he could get to the crime scene. Weighing that idea against getting breakfast, he decided to give the guy a ticket for driving recklessly. He could have caused an accident!

  Warren took the exit to Lake Shore Drive to escape the stop and go traffic of the Dan Ryan expressway. Exiting the Drive, he turned onto Stony Island. He was almost there now. He knew right away he had reached the scene of the crime due to all of the police squad cars that blocked oncoming cars and the uniformed officers who redirected the traffic. He pulled his black Diamondback S5-20 four door truck over to the side, opposite of the crime scene. Reaching into his glove compartment, he pulled out a pair of latex gloves.

  He took a few deep breaths before climbing out of his truck. He could smell the blood in the air; it made his stomach growl. He immediately regretted not taking his partner's advice and grabbing a whole lot of something to eat along the way. The scent of the blood was so enticing, he felt his mouth water. Swallowing hard, he reached into his pocket. Pulling out his badge and ID, he handed them to the uniformed officer protecting the crime scene from intruders and media. Warren surveyed the crime scene as the officer verified his identification before handing it back. The body had been
dumped on the shoulder of 95th Street. There was a small patch of wild grass that had grown four feet high and beyond that, huge patches of gravel and dirt.

  He stepped under the yellow and black police tape that decorated crime scenes everywhere. He could see the M.E. forensics expert taking pictures of the body from all angles. As he walked closer, he realized right away why forensics were walking around the area taking so many pictures. The crime scene was a horrific sight. The body had been dismembered; mutilated chunks of bloody flesh had been strewn around the area. A uniformed officer rushed past him to puke on the curb next to a squad car. He used the car's hood for balance as his stomach heaved its contents onto the pavement.

  Warren looked closely at the mutilated, disembodied chunks of flesh, his senses picked up a slight scent of a shifter from the body but it was highly overshadowed by the smell of blood. He hoped whoever the pieces of flesh had belonged to was murdered here and not somewhere else like the last victim. At least, now he knew for certain that a shifter was involved. He just wished he had a more defined scent to work with. Well, at least one thing could be ruled out. Xander's theory of foul play from the human race was out of the question from this standpoint. This was the work of a supernatural and it was the last thing the supernatural race needed...more drama. More ammunition for the humans to throw at them about how they should all be rounded up and destroyed.

  He watched as blood dried to a dark red tint on the exposed ligaments and muscles. Ragged pieces of skin clung to the chunks of flesh. He counted five pieces of the body, ranging from small to medium. The largest chunk of flesh was what remained of the torso. He stepped closer to examine the bite marks where the wolf had torn through the skin, bone and muscle. Looking inside the cavity, he could see that the ribs had been splintered, little particles of white bone sprinkled the remaining intestines still attached to the shredded abdomen. There was no blood splattered around the area, just small puddles that had drained from the pieces of the corpse.