The Knights of Darkness Chronicles 01 - Desires Unleashed

by D N Simmons

  This man really needs a makeover, Warren thought as he walked over to the corpse. Matthew stayed a few paces back while his partner glanced at the mutilated body. Matthew had avoided getting a good look at the body at crime scene. The sight of the insides hanging out all torn and shredded made his stomach turn.

  He walked away, gagging, both Warren and Marshall glancing up, watching him. Warren wondered if Matthew was going to puke. Matthew struggled with his nausea, then turned around facing Warren, taking deep breaths. Warren could see Matthew's flesh turn a pale green.

  “Are you okay, buddy?” he asked.

  Matthew nodded. “Yeah, I'll be alright, let's just do this,” he said. Warren was intrigued by what could turn a person's stomach. For instance, if he saw anyone eating anything molded, spoiled, or rotten, he would become instantly nauseous. He once saw a movie where the actor supposedly ate a chicken wing that was spoiled to the point where the meat was green and a greenish gelatinous substance had formed on it, Warren barely made it to the bathroom in time. Still to this day, just thinking about that particular movie made him sick to his stomach. Needless to say, he never finished watching it. Warren looked at his partner one last time, then turned to face the corpse.

  Marshall Galen had discovered very little. “Whoever is doing the killings, they're covering their tracks better than anyone I've ever seen. This killer damages the bodies far too much for anything to be recognizable. Look at these entrails.” He held up a handful of intestine, bits and pieces of torn flesh and globs of dried blood slid off and plopped back into the exposed abdomen. Warren felt his mouth filling with saliva. He didn't want to take any deep breaths, that would only make it worse. From behind him came an ugly sound, followed by the sound of retching. He turned around to see Matthew leaning over the sink, puking up his breakfast. Marshall looked up frowning and shook his head. He thought these specially trained cops would be used to this type of stuff. And here is one of the best cops on the unit, barfing in his stainless steel sink. He knew one thing, he wasn't going to clean it up!

  Matthew had finished retching and turned on the faucet, rinsing his mouth as he rinsed away all of the vomit. His face was pale, but he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, embarrassed to have lost his breakfast. He was known to have a cast iron stomach but the conditions of this last victim sickened him.

  “Feeling any better? Do you want to wait outside?” Warren asked in a slightly teasing voice. “Do you need to lay down, put your feet up, want a pillow?” He chuckled. Matthew grimaced at him, flipping him the finger as he headed for the double doors. Warren chuckled again before getting back to the business at hand. “So what do you think, Doc?” he asked.

  “Well, I think this shifter is playing around with you guys. The intestines are ripped to shreds and the spleen and kidneys are missing. The killer ripped into the stomach and you can say 'fished around' for the goodies, so to speak. You two got a real sick puppy on your hands, literally.” Marshall removed a handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to wipe his glasses clean.

  “I'm thinking this killer is keeping the heads for trophies and he may be eating the organs. Did you find any fur or anything like that?”

  “Nope, this was a clean job, well as clean as it can be. There aren't any prints on what's left of this body, no fur, not even an eyelash. Too bad the DNA lab can't track down your boy based off of that fur we found the last time,” Marshall said.

  “I know, all we can do is match what we've got. If we had prints, that'd be different,” Warren replied.

  “I'll keep examining this body, see what else I can find. Now, go on, get out there and do your job, try to keep my morgue empty, alrighty?” He pleaded, as he placed the intestines back into the abdomen. He packed them in, pressing down on the entrails to get them to stay in place. Warren felt his hunger rise and decided now was a good time to leave.

  “Will do, Doc. Will do,” he said as he headed towards the double doors. As he stepped outside, he took a deep breath. Matthew was leaning against the wall head down, his skin color had returned to normal. He raised his head and looked up at Warren. “Can't believe I lost it in there.”

  “You lost it?! I almost lost it. Face it, we make a pretty fucked up pair.”

  “Yeah, but I've never seen you get sick.”

  “Nope, but I'm more likely to eat the evidence, and that's worse. Come on.” He gestured to his partner and they walked down the hallway back to the elevator. They were still at square one and couldn't do a thing, except sit and twiddle their thumbs.

  CHAPTER 18

  Natasha had a rough day at work. She had no idea they would just thrust her into the job like that. She worked four hours on her feet, taking photos of various crime scenes. The corpses were long gone, but they wanted to photo-document the crime scenes for tomorrow's news scoop. They were calling this killer the “HEADHUNTER”. It was grim to Natasha; she hated how the media had to add sensationalism to every maniac. She wondered why they always gave criminals jazzy names like the “CHICAGO HELL RAISER”, or “THE MIDNIGHT STRANGLER”; so now, the perpetrators could clip out newspaper articles about themselves, featuring their new cool nickname. Why not call them “THE CRAZY ASSHOLE” or “THE SICK, COWARDLY FUCK” because that's what they were. Call it like it really is, that's all she wanted.

  She almost didn't want to stand up when the train came to her stop but she had promised Annette she would visit her. Several of the other passengers were nice enough to offer up their seats after they saw how bruised and battered she was, that helped. But she really just wanted to go home. She hadn't gotten much rest the night before and she was feeling the effects now. She stepped off the train and walked down the platform with the rest of the evening rush hour crowd. She walked down the steps slowly as people rushed past her, throwing her nasty glances until they saw her face and thought they'd better keep their mouths shut. To them, Natasha either liked to fight or had just gotten beat up pretty badly and didn't look like she needed any more drama.

  She reached the bottom, walked to a restaurant close to the hospital and ordered an Italian combination with cheese and mixed peppers for her friend. Getting an order of seasoned fries on the side, she ordered the same for herself, even though she knew it wasn't helping her diet. Tonight's dinner, combined with the pizza from last night, was definitely breaking the rules. After paying for their orders, she walked the eight blocks to the hospital. She decided after the walk to the hospital, she'd gotten her exercise for the week and Annette wasn't going to be home to harass her about it either. She walked to the front desk. The woman behind the desk looked tired, stray wisps of hair framed her face; her eyes were dulled from fatigue. When she spoke, her voice was low and weary. It made Natasha feel bad for bothering her for a visitor's pass. The lady didn't bother saying another word once Natasha told her who she was coming to see. She wrote her name down on a white label and tossed it on the top of the counter. Natasha didn't appreciate having things tossed at her but she didn't want to get into a confrontation right now. Swallowing her ire, she stepped into the open elevator and pressed the number three button, getting off on the third floor. She arrived at Annette's room and the young woman turned to look at her, smiling as she entered.

  “About time you brought your sorry ass in here, don't you know people hungry?” she asked jokingly, as she held her one good hand out, fingers outstretched and wiggling to indicate her desperation for the food. Natasha laughed and walked over to the bed, but out of arms reach and dangled the bag of food in front of Annette, who began to whine. “Aww, come on, gimmie, gimmie, gimmie!”

  “Man, I don't get a 'happy to see you,' or a 'thanks for visiting my stankin ass!' Nothing, geez, what an ingrate! Here!” She chuckled, tossing the bag that had the room filling with its aroma, into Annette's lap. The woman quickly opened the bag, snatched the sandwich out of it, unwrapped the aluminum foil hastily before shoving the juicy sausage and beef sandwich into her mouth with only the use of one hand. She took a bi
te and pulled the sandwich away from her mouth, long strands of melted cheese connected the sandwich to her lips. Natasha gave her friend a look of disgust and shook her head.

  “You look nasty eating that sandwich, makes me not even want mine!” She laughed.

  Annette shrugged, when she was able to free her mouth, she had to explain. “You've obviously forgotten in your twenty-four hours, just how disgusting hospital food is. I feel like a starving woman being tossed a cracker. This sandwich is the best damn sandwich I've ever eaten!” she said, greedily swallowing the last of the sandwich.

  “Yeah, I guess I blocked the horrible experience from my memory. We are never to talk about it again,” she joked. “What are you watching?”

  Annette looked toward the TV. “The news, nothing special, only have fifteen channels. You'd think they would have more channels for you to watch when you're in a hospital, you know what I mean? I mean it's bad enough you're depressed cause you had to go to the hospital, even worse when you wake up in one and your only form of entertainment is fifteen lousy channels, it ain't right!” She shook her head, looking grim.

  Natasha chuckled. Annette always made her laugh, they made each other laugh, even when they were sad, which was the best time to laugh. Natasha looked at the small, square, thirteen inch color TV and watched as the news anchor reiterated the gruesome details of the crime from earlier that morning. Listening to the details again made the memory of her horrific dream flash in her mind. She turned to Annette.

  “I have to tell you something that happened to me last night,” she said apprehensively.

  “You got laid? Did you fuck Xavier?! Awe shit, I bet it was the bomb!” Annette said excitedly. Natasha frowned and shook her head.

  “No, you gutter mind! We talked last night and that was it. I'm still trying to make up my mind if I want to go that route. It's still weird to me, you know, it's different...but I am still interested. But that's not what I wanted to tell you.” She reached behind her and grabbed the uncomfortable leather chair from the corner of the room, moving it closer to Annette’s bed. She sat down in the chair and a low hiss escaped through the leather bindings. She looked up at her friend, perplexed.

  “Last night, I had this weird ass dream. Ever since the accident, I've been having all these weird dreams. I had decided not to take my medication and it's as though I've opened Pandora's box. I've been seeing what I think may be premonitions! God! I hope not, cause this fucking sucks if it is!”

  Annette looked at her friend with concern. “What was your medication for?”

  “Well, ever since I was a kid, I was told I was taking it for my headaches...” she trailed off. “I don't remember having a lot of headaches in my youth, but I do remember having weird dreams,” she said thoughtfully. She stared off across the room as if she was recollecting some long lost memory. She caught herself staring off. Bringing her focus back to the present-looked pensively at Annette, who waited patiently for her friend to continue.

  “I used to have weird dreams. I think my parents lied to me about my medication. A doctor at this hospital told me the medication I have been taking every night for all these years was a dream suppressant. But now that I'm not taking them anymore, it's like my mind is being flooded with all of these fragments of; I don't know quite what to call it,” she said, clearly frustrated, her hands hovering beside her temples.

  Annette felt sorry for her friend. She didn't know what to say. “Are they like visions?” she asked.

  “Yes! That's exactly what they're like. It's like I saw you in the hospital last night eating grape gelatin, but I saw all this through your eyes, first person's view.” She held her fingers above her eyes as she looked at her friend. “You think I'm losing it, don't you?”

  Annette shook her head. “I was eating grape gelatin last night. You got a gift, Tasha. You can see things as they're happening. You don't have to think you're a freak or something like that.”

  Natasha looked up at Annette, shocked. “You believe me?”

  Annette nodded. “Of course I believe you. There are people out there who are psychic. I see it was a gift and God granted you with this gift for a reason. You should embrace it. See, God knew who to give it to, cause if it were my gift, I'd be trying to see people's bank account information, cause I'm a heathen like that, and broke, people need money!” She laughed outright.

  Natasha chuckled, she knew her friend had the craziest sense of humor. She had also known Annette wouldn't make her feel abnormal if she told her. She felt compelled to tell her the rest of her discovery.

  “I think I saw the murder that happened last night!” she said in a rush of words. Annette looked at her, her smile fading as what Natasha blurred to her registered in her mind.

  “What do you mean? The dead woman they're talking about?” she asked, her good hand pointing toward the TV. The news had just gone off, and an evening sitcom had just come on.

  Natasha nodded. “It was as if I was looking through the eyes of the killer. I think it was the same one, I don't know, but I could see the hand. It was a huge hand, then it grew fur and thick sharp nails formed from normal, human looking nails. There was a woman in front of me. In the dream...Urn...vision, she was crying and begging for her life. Then the hand started ripping into her stomach, just tearing away her insides!” She closed her eyes tight, hands covering her face. “The worse part of it is, I could feel what the killer felt!” She shook her head, she didn't want to believe she saw the murder, couldn't believe it, to do so is to fall headlong into insanity.

  “No, no...There’s got to be a logical explanation for all of this,” Natasha moaned. “This doesn't make sense. None of it!” she exclaimed in anguish as she rose from the chair and began pacing in front of Annette's little bed.

  The other woman watched her, trying to accept the possibility that her friend could see things. And if she really did see this murder, what was she going to do about it?

  “Natasha, listen to me. If you get another vision of this murderer, you've got to tell the police,” she said adamantly. Natasha stopped pacing, looked at her friend, weakly shaking her head.

  “They'd laugh at me, and probably lock me up. They wouldn't take me seriously. What am I supposed to say? I had a dream about the killer; I saw how he did it. Yeah right, that's how you get committed.” She shook her head strongly. Annette wanted to reassure her friend that not everyone would laugh, especially not in this day and age.

  “Natasha, the next victim could be you or me or your mother, my mother, father, a child, innocent people are dying! You have this gift that may help the police catch this murderer. If you sit on it and not do anything and day after day you hear about a new body found in a back alley, knowing that you could have prevented it, you would never forgive yourself. You might as well be an accomplice!” she said forcefully. She hated to be so blunt, but she wanted to give Natasha the cold, hard truth. It worked. Natasha found herself slumped in the leather chair, tears suspended in her eyes.

  “I don't want this gift, curse, whatever! I don't want it Annette, you didn't see what I saw!” she said, trying to hold on to her composure.

  “No I didn't, but you're the only one who did. And you're the only one who can do something about it. If you embrace your ability to help people, then it can be a gift. If you choose to ignore it and all that it brings to you, then it will be a curse. Can you live with that? How do you know the visions will stop? Just because you don't want to see them, doesn't mean they won't come. I read about something like this in a magazine article.” She shifted in the bed, trying to get more comfortable. “This woman could predict the future. You may be seeing the future and not actually the present. Did you think of that?” she pointed out.

  Natasha nodded dejectedly.

  “So how can you sit there and try to escape this?” Annette asked. “Yeah, it's a bum wrap for you, real shitty, but Jesus had a bum wrap too. This is your cross to bear, so use it for good.” She looked at Natasha, who was looking dow
n at her trembling hands clasped together in her lap. Annette's tone grew softer. “Tasha, you must go to the police and tell them what you saw, what you know.

  Even if they laugh at you, you have to do something. As it is now, everyone is in danger. I know you're scared and unhappy, but you can't run from these visions.”

  “If I take my medication again, I'll be okay,” Natasha said stubbornly.

  Annette's face flashed with anger. “You got to be kidding me, did I just waste my breath here?! Sure, you can run and hide behind your meds and pretend that you didn't see what you saw. Delude yourself. But you'll always know the truth. Look, it's your choice, Tasha, but I hope you make the right choice even if it's the hardest one,” Annette said. She was angry with her friend, but she could empathize with her. In less than forty-eight hours, Natasha had discovered she's a psychic and had to witness a horrible murder take place and through the eyes of the sadistic son of a bitch that committed it. She figured Natasha's world just flipped upside down. But she couldn't accept Natasha letting people die when she could prevent it, or at least try to prevent it, just because she was afraid.

  Natasha sat in the leather chair, and reflected on everything her friend had said to her. She thought about everything that had happened to her in the past two days. She wanted to go home, to think. She needed to be alone. She rose from the chair, walked to her friend's bed and gave her a hug. They embraced for a long time; she thanked Annette for the pep talk.

  “Think about all of it, Tasha, okay? I love you, be careful, really careful,” Annette said as Natasha closed the door behind her and headed for the elevator. She pressed the lobby button, walking off the elevator when she reached the ground floor. On the train ride home she thought about it, weighed her options. She could take the medicine again now that she knew what it did. Had her parents been thinking about her well being when they gave her the medicine to suppress her dreams or was it because they didn't want to be troubled with a 'special' daughter? She wondered about that as the bus rocked slowly. She walked into her apartment, determining that she needed to talk to her mother. She sat down on the sofa, picked up the telephone and punched in the seven digit number.