by D N Simmons
“And you saw all of this. Just like you were actually doing it yourself?” Matthew asked, genuinely curious.
She nodded and dabbed her eyes. “Yeah, I don't know how long she would have lived had I came to you guys then, but I didn't want to believe it...I'm sorry,” she said, her head down in shame.
“Don't beat yourself up about it, the important thing is you're here now, helping,” Warren said, patting her hand to reassure her that she wasn't to blame.
“You said 'them' as in more than one?” asked Matthew. Warren looked at him then back to Natasha, who was nodding.
“Yeah, a female, I'm not sure what she is. Her eyes glowed red when I first saw her, the night they killed the woman. She had pale skin, jet black wavy hair, it was long, to her thighs. She had blue eyes, when they weren't glowing red. She likes to wear a lot of skintight leather. Last night or this morning, I had a vision of them. I could see through the male again. He was sitting in a chair, there was a man on this metal table. He was crying and begging for his life just like the woman before. And the man watched him, he was happy to hear the other man pleading for his life, it was like I could taste his fear,” she explained to the two officers using her hands to emphasize the feeling she was receiving through her vision.
“As he sat in the chair, he began to masturbate,” she said, her face flushing with blood. She could feel her body temperature rise which made her squirm in her seat attempting to get more comfortable. Her arm knocked Warren's mug off of the desk and she caught hold of it but fumbled it and Warren caught the mug before it hit the floor.
“I'm so sorry, I'm just so nervous, I didn't mean to make a mess,” she said apologetically.
“Don't worry about it, doesn't matter. Lady, you could break everything in the place for all I care, I'm thrilled with this information,” Warren said as he placed the mug on the other side of his desk.
Natasha smiled gratefully because they didn't laugh at her or think she was crazy. They took heR seriously from the very beginning. She continued. “The other killer came into the room, she teased the male victim then she said, and I remember, “Should we save him for tomorrow night, or feast on him now?” The male killer said that he wanted to save him for tonight because he looked tasty and he wanted to savor his meal. Then they began to have sex as the man laid on the metal table screaming for his life, they laughed at him. His fear seemed to make them...Hornier.” She blushed even more, and looked away. Then she looked at Matthew, who was quiet.
“If we could get a sketch artist in here, can you give us their descriptions?” Warren asked.
Natasha nodded, saying “I'll do my best.” She checked her watch, it was now seven in the morning and she was tired. Natasha would have to call in to work, request the day off. Since it was only her second day, she might as well kiss that job goodbye. It saddened her. She had enjoyed her first day of work, in spite of all that was going on. Warren dialed a number on the telephone, tapping his pen on his desk as he waited for someone to pick up the other end. Matthew leaned closer, continuing to ask questions.
“Did you see what the place looked like, where they had the man? Do you know where it is?” he asked.
“Well, it was pretty dark in the room. The place looked abandoned. There were boards over the windows and the floor was really dusty and disgusting. The room was pretty big, from what I could see. They had some candles burning around the small area they were in, but that's it. I wish I knew more. I might have to have more visions to be of further help,” she said sadly. The thought of having to have more visions upset her. For it was becoming obvious she would have to see more death and torture and the sight of blood sickened her.
“Trust me, you've done so much, even now. You've been the biggest lead we've had. We were going out of our minds trying to establish a suspect profile, nothing came up. But you have the best clues yet! You've done more than enough” Matthew said warmly. He was excited about the new information they now had. Natasha smiled happily. She was very pleased that what she told them was so vital.
“Tell me, do you have to be asleep to have these visions?” Warren asked when he got off of the telephone.
“At this point, yes. I have to be completely asleep. Then the visions come. Some are just random, people playing, or having sex, or eating. Nothing terrible. But my doctor says it's the brain waves that help me form a connection with someone to the point where I can see what they see. Feel what they feel,” she said wearily, she yawned and covered her mouth. She looked up to see a middle-aged man wearing a wrinkled blue sweatshirt and jeans approaching her. He had a sketch pad in one hand and a set of pencils in another. His salt and pepper hair was combed back, exposing a receding hair line. He sat down in front of her and held out his hand.
“David Foster. I'm the sketch artist. Why don't you sit back, relax and try to remember any details about his face that you can,” he said calmly as he poised his pencil over the sketch pad. Natasha settled into the chair. She closed her eyes and tried to envision both of their features. She began to give details as the sketch artist worked furiously on the paper. His eyes darted to Natasha several times as he etched out the features of the male murder suspect she described.
“Does this look like the man you saw?” he asked as he held out the white sketch book. Natasha opened her eyes and looked at the drawing. Her mouth dropped open, amazed at the incredible likeness. It was her killer, no doubt about it. She pointed at the picture and nodded, looking at both Warren and Matthew. The two detectives took the sketch from the artist and focused on the features. Warren could judge by the size of his head, that he was a huge man and an even more enormous wolf, even bigger than himself.
“Okay, I'm ready to do the other sketch,” said the artist, as he turned the page of his sketch book. Natasha closed her eyes again, beginning to describe the female she had seen in her visions. The sketch artist's pencil worked over the paper, she could hear the soft sounds of the lead pencil scratching paper as he reproduced the face from her descriptions.
“Is this accurate?” he asked, once again holding up the pad for approval. Natasha looked at the picture and nodded grimly. While Warren looked closely at the drawing, Matthew stood behind Warren's chair, looking over his shoulder with equal attention.
“Well, is that it? Do you need me for anything else?” asked the sketch artist. Warren and Matthew shook their heads and thanked him. He gathered his belongings and left the room.
“So, what's next?” Natasha asked. Matthew had returned to his desk, he looked at Warren.
“Well, from your descriptions of this place, we should probably check all abandoned buildings in the south side area. That's were the bodies are being deposited. Even though the victims could be getting murdered in an entirely different area then brought there, we have to narrow our search parameter and start somewhere,”
Matthew said as he looked through some files on his desk, noting the locations of where the bodies were found.
“Where did you say you lived?” Warren asked.
She told them her address. “It's an apartment building. I live on the third floor, though we're trying to get an apartment on the second. Why?” she asked. She looked at Warren, thinking he and his partner were two of the hottest cops walking the earth. They were two cops you wouldn't mind pulling you over. Shit, you might just drive fifty miles over the limit, just to snag one.
“Well, you did say that you saw him in the grocery store in your neighborhood. That might help us narrow down a prospective area to search,” Warren said. He nodded to his partner and they rose from their seats and began to put on their coats. Natasha looked at two of them. She felt that they wanted her to go also, she wasn't sure and didn't really want to ask, but felt she should.
“Do you need me to go with you?” she asked apprehensively.
“Yeah, we do. You might remember something, a landmark, something that might help us identify the building they may be in.” He held out his hand to her, palm upward and she sli
d her slender, delicate hand into his. He pulled her out of the chair with ease. Natasha appreciated the strength of a strong man. She felt attracted to Warren. She wasn't quite sure why, but she felt some other sort of connection too. She followed the two men to the garage as they led her to the sturdy, black and silver squad car. The car had the sleek design of the new 2004 automobiles, but was solid steel and had titanium gates with silver overlay separating the back seats from the front. In the back seat, there was an overhead lighting system. Natasha wondered why the car was like that. They all climbed into the automobile, Natasha in the back, Warren at the wheel.
“May I ask a question?” Natasha inquired.
“Yeah, shoot,” Matthew said.
“Why is the car, well, what's with this car?”
“We're a policing team specially funded by the United States federal government to control supernatural crime. This kind of case would never see a normal police officer's desk or file drawer.
All weird cases like this, that's suspected of supernatural foul play, comes directly to us. Since we have to deal with it, we have to be equipped with the resources to deal with it. This car has a powerful, ultraviolet lighting system. In the case of a vampire getting out of hand, under the US law, we have the right to flip the switch and fry their asses.” He turned in his seat to look at Natasha, wanting to see her expression. He suspected she would be wide-eyed and openmouthed. He was right.
“What about the shape-shifters? I mean, I've seen this guy, he's huge!” She looked over the titanium cage. “He could probably rip this cage and crush it into a small ball and go bowling with it!” she said, chuckling nervously. She was wondering how the hell they were going to get his humongous body into this car, and keep him there until they could get him to the jail.
Warren chuckled. He could imagine what she was thinking, he was thinking the same thing.
“Well,” Matthew continued, “the cages are built inside the car, it's a part of the car, welded and covered in silver-the same for the insides of the rear doors, you know what I mean? Besides, if he starts to resist, then under US law, we reserve the right to put a bullet into his head.”
Natasha began to think about the judicial system for the supernatural and how it differed from theirs.
“How do you even hold a vampire or shape-shifter for questioning, let alone prosecution?” she asked, thinking it was a valid question. Matthew and Warren glanced at each other, they seemed to be sharing a secret and Natasha couldn't help but feel out of her league. She didn't like feeling that way.
“Well, the law works in a strange way. Say we catch our killer today in the act, we don't need to bring him in for questioning or prosecution under the new US law that was just passed, we have the right to shoot and kill on the spot while caught in the act. No 'freeze, don't move', just shoot to kill, for both shape-shifters and vampires. We have liquid silver-nitrate bullets that explode on contact. So basically, it goes into a shape-shifter's blood stream, he cannot survive and dies instantly. For a vampire, we have liquid ultraviolet bullets and they do the same thing as the silver nitrate ones.” Matthew said. It amazed him just how little people in the world knew about their current situation. He thought that every mortal in the world should want to know what's out there. Mortals should want to know what resources they had to better protect themselves.
“Okay, so how do you bring them in and restrain them?” she asked. She couldn't believe she hadn't found out all of this information before. She had been so deep into denial she didn't want to know any more about the “others” than she'd absolutely had to. As it turned out, she needed to know a lot more than she did. She was happy to be learning new things now.
“Well, we also work with flame throwers and these special guns,” Matthew stated as he held one up to show her. It was metal with a black handle, it looked like a miniature sawed off shot gun to Natasha. “This little beauty here can hold up to sixteen hollow tip silver bullets that carry a little extra 'oomph'. They explode a millisecond after contact and can take off a head, a limb, or blow out a chest. When we bring them in, they have a chance to prove their innocence. But that's only if we don't have any real evidence against them. There are no other exceptions. The law is very biased in that regard,” Matthew said as he gazed at his partner, who had been quiet the whole time.
They drove the rest of the way in silence to Natasha's neighborhood. They drove around the grocery store; Warren parked the car and got out. He turned and leaned into the driver's side window.
“I'm going to go in and check some things out. You two stay here.” He walked off without waiting for a response from his partner. Natasha glanced at Matthew, who seemed to be a little nervous about his partner going in alone, but he said nothing.
“So, how long have you two been partners?” she asked, trying to kill time and the boredom of sitting in a quiet car.
“Hmm, for about five years. I was on the force before he joined. Then, and this is going to throw you for a loop, we were selected for this government special unit because the normal police force wasn't prepared, let alone equipped to handle the supernaturals. So the government drafted ex-soldiers and cops from across the country for specific training. There were over a hundred thousand of us chosen, but only about fifteen hundred passed the training. Warren and I being two of them. What really pisses me off is that we're stretched too thin. It's only one S.U.I.T. division per state. That's fifty-two units and about thirty cops per unit. Granted, states like Illinois have about forty officers in our division, it's still not nearly enough because we cover the entire state and then some if help is needed. You can imagine how stressful things can get.” He looked out the window. “Here he comes,” he said, relieved as Warren opened the car door and climbed inside.
“Find anything?” Matthew asked.
Warren shook his head. “Not really.” He started the car, pulled out of the parking lot and began to drive down the street looking for abandoned homes and stores. He pulled the car over in front of a tall, two-story building with boarded up windows.
“Does this look familiar in any way?” he asked. Natasha looked at the building and shook her head.
“No, it doesn't, but in the vision I was inside the building and it was really dark. I couldn't see anything distinct except the man on the table and the female. I wish I could tell you more, but that's the best I can do for now.”
“Miss Hemingway, believe me when I say this, you have been our knight in shining armor. We had nothing to go on, and it was eating at us, so don't be upset. If you remember or see anything else, just let us know. Here's my card,” Warren said as he handed her a card with his work number and cell phone number on it. “You can always reach me at either of those numbers. I'll drop you off at home now,” he said. Natasha looked at him, confused.
“I thought you needed me to come along with you?” she asked, somewhat disappointed. She felt like she was letting them down.
Warren shook his head. “No, we can handle this. If we do find the killers, I don't want you in the middle of it. Like I said, you've done more than enough already. So let me drop you off,” he said as he pulled off in the direction of Natasha's apartment. The car stopped in front of her three story apartment building which had white trim around the window and a red awning. There was a small, landscaped garden in the front of the building with a white fountain that was turned off due to the winter season. She climbed out of the car, walked to the driver's side window and peered in.
“If I see anything else, I'll call you right away,” she said.
“Call the cell phone, I'll probably be out late today. We might need you to come into the station at some point to complete some reports, I'll let you know. Thanks for coming in to see us. Take care of yourself,” Warren said. Matthew smiled and nodded.
Natasha smiled dispiritedly at the two officers, hoping they would be okay. She was worried for them, she would hate to be the one who had to deal with the supernatural criminals. It was truly a horrendous j
ob, “but”, she reasoned, “someone had to do it.”
She walked away from the car and went into her apartment building. She dragged herself up three flights of stairs. By the time she reached her apartment, she had only enough energy to plop down onto the sofa. She closed her eyes as she regained her normal breathing pace. She began to feel extremely sleepy, realizing that she'd only had about five or six hours sleep at the most. And her body felt the lack of rest. She looked at her watch, noting the time was 10:46 A.M. She walked into her bedroom, called her job and requested the day off. She hoped she would still have the job the next day. She lay down comfortably in the bed and let sleep take her.
She stepped into the darkness of the room and could immediately smell the distinctive scent of another wolf breed in the room. She raised her gun, the hand holding the gun was a man's hand. It was strong, not a normal man's strength. She looked at her partner, Matthew. Matthew looked at her and nodded slowly, moving behind her, back to back. Her eyes could see very well in the darkness and she knew she was in an abandoned warehouse. She could see old boxes stacked on top of each other or strewn about. There was dust and grime on the floor and the strong scent of blood wafted up to her nostrils, the scent making her mouth water. She could hear the soft whimpers of a mortal man nearby. The scent of him mingled with the scent of old blood was making her hungry. She knew instantly that she was seeing through the eyes of Detective Warren Davis, and he was a shape-shifter. She could hear another voice in the room, she looked in its direction.
“I can feel the vampire here, they're close. Keep an eye out. Do you see your wolf?” asked a tall man. He was wearing a dark green, ribbed sweater and black pleated pants. His long, black trench coat flowed behind him as he walked around the room, scanning. His long, black hair framed his gorgeous face, his forest green eyes pierced the darkness. “I can smell human blood, do you see your wolf? There is a human alive here, I can hear his heart beating,” the man stated as he looked around.