Hoarfrost (Blood of Cain Book 2)

by J. L. Murray

  Tap tap tap tap tap.

  "Why are they doing that?" she shouted, pointing the gun for a moment at the window before training it on me again.

  "They're loyal to me. Let me show you."

  I pushed the darkness toward the ravens and felt the resistance of a window threaded with wire, the glass thick and unforgiving. But I shoved at the slippery, smoke-like substance. It was a part of my body now, as much a part of me as my own skin. A crack rent the air and Morley jumped, aiming the gun once again at the window. I pushed again and felt the resistance give way, felt the cool air from outside rushing into the recycled-air vacuum of the interrogation room. And then the sound of my birds was all around us. A shot rang out and Morley screamed. I closed my eyes, unaware I'd felt incomplete until now. The ravens rushed in, flapping their wings, I felt feathers against my face, a heavy weight on my shoulder, then my white-eyed raven was nuzzling my hair. I opened my eyes. Morley was sitting on the floor, crammed tight against the door. She had her gun pointed up, at the cyclone of iridescent black feathers, but there was an awestruck look of horror on her face. I pulled the darkness back inside, feeling it obey. I breathed out and felt myself become strong as I stepped toward her. She looked at me, the gun still pointed up at the ravens.

  "I'm not the bad guy, Detective," I said. "Though, I suppose, you might consider me the lesser evil. Trust me, I'm here to help."

  "This is not possible," she said, and I heard her through the din. She seemed to remember the gun in her hand and pointed it, shaking, at me. I reached down and pulled it easily from her grasp as I crouched down. There was a small gold cross at Morley's neck and her hand reflexively touched it. I leaned toward her and she started, breathing raggedly. I moved slowly, so not to scare her, and slid the gun into her holster, moving back with my hands up. Seeming to sense my intentions, the ravens quieted, landing one by one on the table, the backs of the chairs, the floor.

  "I know it isn't possible. This is fucking batshit crazy. I get it, Detective. But Dekker–" I shook my head. "Solomon and your partner are in danger. If what I think is happening is really happening, one or both of them is not in charge of his faculties. We have to stop them from doing something they're going to regret for the rest of their lives."

  "I don't understand," she said, her voice cracking, then something like resolve settled on her face. "I need to see the video feed."

  "I suggested that a few minutes ago. See? I'm not the enemy."

  "You don't need me," she said, her eyes sharp as they met my own. "I've seen you, that... God knows what else you can do. You could just lock me in here, have me eaten by birds, you don't need me.” Surprise dawned on her face, then, and she sounded surprised when she spoke again. “But you want to save them, don't you?"

  "Yes, and I can't do this on my own," I said. "I'm going to need your help.”

  “Why?”

  “Because," I said slowly. I closed my eyes. "I'm afraid of what I might do."

  "You're afraid you'll kill them," she said, and I nodded, my eyes still closed. And when I opened them, her eyes weren't sharp anymore. They were searching, curious. She let go of my arm. She was stroking the cross at her neck, but I didn't envy her faith. I didn't want her belief, not anymore. Not after all I'd seen, all the gods I'd met. I didn't want salvation. All I wanted was Dekker. And I knew what I would have to do to end all this. I knew what to do to save him.

  And it would be a hell of a lot worse than dying.

  I watched as Morley's partner paced around Dekker, shouting at him, getting in his face. Dekker stayed calm throughout an interrogation that bordered on violent. The detective pushed Dekker's chest, pulled at his cuffed wrists aggressively, at one point he even tried to kick the chair out from under him. Dekker seemed to know what he was going to do before the detective did it.

  "Can you speed this up?" I said, and Morley glared at the screen, as if willing Dekker to make a confession retroactively.

  "That bastard is laughing in our faces," Morley glowered, but sped up the footage.

  The detective on the screen tried to terrorize Dekker in fast forward. He raced around the room, his mouth moving fast, his steps so quick his feet were a blur. Dekker sat perfectly still, hands clasped, face calm. He looked up at the camera a few times and even I got a chill at the cool look in his eyes. As if he were waiting patiently for a chance, and then... what? He would kill the detective? Shoot his way out? I reminded myself that Dekker was on my side, Dekker was here because of me. If I hadn't insisted on saving Esme, we wouldn't have been on that ice. We wouldn't have been in the motel where we were arrested. But how many times had I warned him about pretending to be FBI? And what exactly would I be if I'd left Esme on her own? I'd be no better than one of Lilith's monsters. I'd be no better than the murderers I felt so justified in killing.

  I'd be no better than my mother.

  "There," said Morley, slowing down the tape.

  The door to the interrogation room opened and an officer stepped into the room, someone standing in the shadows behind him.

  "Is there sound?" I said. Morley toggled something and I heard their voices, tinny, as if coming from an old radio.

  "I know what to do," said the officer, raising his gun and pointing it at Dekker. The officer looked up at the camera and the footage went black. But not before the figure in the doorway stepped into the light. At first it looked like a tall, young black woman. She was looking right at Dekker, and the look on Dekker's face was one of horror. For the first time on the feed, he showed emotion, and I knew he wasn't cold. He wasn't who they thought he was. I knew him. No matter what his name was, I knew him. And he was afraid. The woman flickered, like a glitch on a computer screen, and her lithe body and pretty face changed, but only for an instant before the video went black.

  "Go back," I said. "Did you see that?"

  "See what?" said Morley. But she did as she was told. She played back the end of the video.

  "Slow it down." I watched as the woman smiled at Dekker. She had something on her forehead.

  "Is that a bullet hole?" said Morley. "Wait, I know her. That's Solomon's partner. His old partner." She turned to look at me, her face gone gray. "He killed her, it's in his file."

  "It's not her," I said, "watch." The woman moved in slow motion, her features blurring, her blazer and pleated pants turning into a man's baggy suit, her lithe body shortening and widening, her face becoming blank, a black disc, a void where the face should be. And then, with a crackle, he was a woman again, just before the screen turned black.

  "What the fuck was that?"

  "That was a monster," I said. "He changes to whoever you want to see. So far, everyone has seen someone dead. When I met him, he looked like my father."

  "You met him?" said Morley. "So tell me what happened. Because this tells me absolutely nothing. The video from the squad room went dead before he even came in, and now six armed police officers are dead, and my partner and a known fugitive are gone. No struggle, nothing. And this officer that points a gun at Solomon, he's dead, too. A bullet to the temple."

  "And their hearts are missing," I said.

  "Yes. How did you know that?"

  I stared at the screen. "What about Ron?" I remembered the sweetness he'd treated Esme with, the concern.

  "Ronald Weiss is also dead."

  I caught my breath. I'd barely known him, only even seen him a few times in the past days. So why did it feel like a punch to the gut? "It's not your partner’s fault," I said. "He's not in control."

  Morley was glaring at me again. "You're saying that Detective Anthony Ronson, the finest officer I've ever worked with, maybe the finest in the country, removed the hearts of every cop in this station?"

  "Of course not. Their hearts were taken afterwards by someone else.”

  "So your insinuation is that Ronson is somehow working with your criminally insane boyfriend?"

  I sighed. "He touches you," I said, remembering Becky. "All he has to do is touch you, t
his monster, this shapeshifter. If you see him, Detective, do not let him near you. Shoot him, set him on fire, do what you have to do, but do not let him touch you. Because if he does, your mind will break. You won't know what's real, and he'll whisper in your ear, or control you with his mind. I don't know exactly how it works, but it always ends up the same. They go crazy, they kill, they die by their own hand. Just like Jerry. Just like Abby. Just like..."

  "Just like who?"

  "It doesn't matter," I said. "Don't let him touch you. Remember what's real. Remember who's dead and can't possibly be standing in front of you. Kill him or he will destroy you from the inside."

  "This is insane."

  "Just wait until you see who he's working for. Compared to her, he's cute and cuddly. We have to get to the hospital."

  "Because you think Chief Petrussi is going to commit arson?"

  "No," I said. "Because I know what the Mother of Hearts is after. She doesn't care about sending me a message, or about stopping Cain and Abel, or about righting the balance. Not anymore. All she wants is power. That's why she was after Esme in the first place, and why she’s just been biding her time, watching, waiting for us to be separated."

  "Cain and Abel?" said the detective weakly. "This is madness."

  "She wants the power that’s in Esme's heart," I said, ignoring her. "And she wants Dekker for bait. I finally understand. Everything she's done, trying to catch Cain in his own world and failing. She wanted his heart, too. She couldn't find Abel, but she found Esme. She probably tried to take Becky's heart, too, but didn't count on the shapeshifter making her stronger. She was waiting for me to kill her. And then she planned on taking her heart, too. She wasn't strong enough to take it herself. That's why she wants Esme, because she can't control it yet."

  "Nothing you are saying makes sense."

  "I know," I said, and I smiled. "And Dekker's still alive."

  "Why are you so sure?"

  "Because," I said, "if she kills him, she can't predict what I'll do. I'm stronger than the Mother of Hearts and she knows it."

  Don't touch her, she'd screamed at the shapeshifter.

  "All I have to do is go insane," I said, and laughed.

  "It's a short trip," said Morley.

  TWENTY-SIX

  The town was eerily quiet. Even with the windows rolled down in the police cruiser, Westport seemed frozen in time again. Even the ocean seemed to be whispering, its usually choppy waters and white-capped waves turned tranquil in the growing darkness of early evening. I pressed down on the gas pedal, Morley gripping the dash with white knuckles, a stun gun in her lap and a rifle between her knees. She'd reloaded her Glock, leaving nothing to chance. I recognized the dogged determination set in her face, her eyes showing nothing but cold iron, and I could practically feel the rage coming off her. She would shoot me if she thought I was even blinking wrong, I knew that. But I also knew she'd do whatever it took to bring her partner back safe. The police radio remained silent when she called for help, and every phone she picked up was dead. Even her cell phone didn't have a signal. Dekker and I might be fugitives, but we were wrapped up in her sense of injustice now.

  "Is that smoke?" Morley said, as we got closer to the hospital.

  “Shit," I said. I tried to speed up, but I was afraid I'd end up in the water if I took the twists of the highway any faster. I slammed on the brakes, making the tires squeal, leaving black tracks behind us as I turned the car inland toward the jutting building that was pouring smoke.

  "This thing, this...monster," Morley said, "would it set a hospital on fire?"

  "No, that's someone else," I said.

  "What?"

  But I was turning again, down the side street and then left into the parking lot, the smoke pouring out of the building, making it nearly impossible to see. It may as well have been night, and I grabbed the emergency brake, pulling fast and skidding sideways, coming to stop next to an ambulance by the emergency room doors.

  "Where's the fire department?" I said.

  "There's no goddamn phones. No 911, no dispatch, no nothing. They'll have to hear about it by word of mouth." On cue, I could hear a siren in the distance. She nodded and we stepped into the smoking hospital, Morley holding her Glock out in front of her like a cop in a buddy movie. I walked behind her, blinking back tears when the smoke hit my face. I could hear screaming, deeper into the building. The nursing station was empty, but when I got closer, I saw that wasn't necessarily true. There was blood splattered against the wall and on the floor was a man lying face down on the floor. I ran over and pushed him onto his back, but it was too late. Someone had put a bullet straight through his head, his chest gaping and empty.

  "Goddammit," I said. I stood up, looking around, but the smoke was too thick. The screaming continued, and I couldn't see Morley for a moment, but then she stepped through the smoke, looking down at the dead man, taking in the blood on the wall.

  "Solomon was here," she said, her eyes going sharp the way they did.

  "The bullet came from whoever the shapeshifter is controlling," I said. "Namely, your partner. The hole in his chest is courtesy of the Mother of Hearts."

  "Solomon is a psycho, Ronson is a cop," she said. "That's all I need to know."

  "Maybe you should lower that gun until you know for sure."

  But Morley disappeared into the smoke again. "Fuck," I said, following after her. I nearly tripped over a pile of something firm and soft. Kneeling down, I saw it was two people dressed like paramedics, a woman with a long ponytail lying across a man with part of his head missing. They both had holes punched in their chests. I slipped on the blood, catching myself on the railing that ran along the wall. I pushed a door open that was next to me, breathing in the air that wasn't choked with smoke. But when I saw what was inside, I couldn't breathe, my chest filling with something that turned and twisted inside of me, jumping under my skin, trying to get out.

  An old man lay half in the bed, the top half of him falling over the side, as though he'd been trying to get away when they found him. He still had an IV in his arm, the monitor at the head of his hospital bed flatlining. The white bedspread tangled around him was stained bright red, his empty chest ripped open. I remembered how to breathe, and the world seemed to come into almost painfully sharp focus. I stepped back out into the hall, the smoke just as thick, but somehow it didn't bother me nearly as much. I could feel people moving around in the building now. I narrowed my eyes as I stepped toward them.

  "Where are you, you shifty motherfucker?" I called. The screaming was closer, and it seemed to be coming from one person. I could take a guess at who it was. The shapeshifter was here. I could feel him flickering nearby: a movement in the corner of the eye, noises in the smoke.

  I checked rooms as I walked by, knowing before I entered that the patients were already dead. I could feel the deepening silence behind the doors. Each and every one died knowing what was about to happen. Those who tried to escape would be found dead on the floor, or halfway out the window. Worse were those still lying in their beds, unable to move when they'd been killed. The smell of blood mingled with the thick, bitter smoke, pulling at my insides, through my throat and nostrils and streaming eyes.

  And then I felt it. A pulse, a breath gasping. I pushed the door open, rushing in, needing to feel another living person, needing to touch something that wasn't pain or death or smoke. Morley sat on the floor, her back to the wall. She screamed when I came in and pointed her gun at me.

  "It's me! Morley, it's me!"

  She was coughing, her eyes streaming with smoke-tinted tears. She lowered the gun but her eyes were wild. "I didn't let him touch me," she said, her voice hoarse and raw. She was shaking her head fast, like she was trying to make sense of what she'd seen. "It's impossible. This can't be fucking happening. You were right, everything you said was true. This isn't right, Mourning. Please, you have to do something. I'm not going to arrest you, not ever, I'm not going to tell anyone about you."


  "What did you see?" I said, crouching low and taking her shaking hand in my own. To my surprise she grasped at me tightly.

  "I saw it, the thing you told me about. I thought it was really her at first. She was standing there in front of me, and I could see her so clearly, even with all the smoke. I could see her and she was smiling. All these years and she was finally here again." She dropped her gun onto the floor and covered her mouth with her other hand, sobbing against it, great racking sobs. Then she put the hand over mine, our hands grasping each other, her squeezing me tightly.

  "But Rena's dead. I know she's dead. My first girlfriend, my first love. But she's dead, Frankie. I saw her after the car accident, her head almost ripped clean off her body. I saw her, I saw her!"

  "Shh, it's okay," I said, and Morley fell against me and I released her hands to put my arms around her.

  "I didn't let it touch me, though," she said, her voice muffled as she cried into my shirt. "It was wrong, it flickered when it came toward me. And when I didn't reach out to take its hand, it...changed. Rena's face went angry, I've never seen her look like that. Like she wanted to hurt me. But it wasn't her. The face, it went blank and then it became dark and hollow. Jesus Christ, preserve us. What's happening?"

  "I'm sorry, Detective, but you have to get your shit together," I said, fighting the pulsing weight in my chest. "You have to calm down. I can't stay here with you."

  "But you were right," she said, pulling away from me and looking up at me, bleary-eyed, her face purple and puffy from crying. Her eyes were desperate, and for a second I wondered if she really had touched the shapeshifter. But then she sat up straight, shaking her head again. "You were right about everything. I saw someone else, too."

  "Who?" I said.