In back, Millie was sitting on one of the patio chairs, talking to a tall man who looked to be in his mid-fifties. His hair was slicked back, silver and black. As we approached, Millie stood up.
“Hey, this is Dr. Bones—and don’t laugh, yes, he is the medical examiner.” She turned to him as he looked up at us. “This is January Jaxson—she’s the one who found the skeleton in the trunk.”
“Ms. Jaxson, how do you do?” He stood, offering his hand.
Millie then introduced Tad, Hank, and Caitlin. She turned to us. “They’ve taken away Danielle’s body, and the men have been all over the yard for evidence. So you can look around now if you like. We didn’t really find much to help us.”
Tad settled down in a chair near the doctor. “So, you said it was like an animal attack?”
Dr. Bones nodded. “Yes, sort of.”
“How is it ‘sort of’ an animal attack?” Hank asked.
“Because her throat was slashed. However, something tore open that poor girl’s belly and either stole her internal organs or ate them. The stomach looks more like an animal attack. The throat—it’s hard to be certain. It could have been from an animal but…”
“Ate her internal organs? Oh man,” Caitlin said, grimacing.
“You’re a bobcat shifter. Haven’t you ever caught a rabbit when you shifted form?” Hank asked.
She glared at him. “Yes, but…that’s different.”
“How is that different? You’re still hunting.” He grinned, but it quickly fell away. “I’m just yanking your chain. So, if this is the Whatcom Devil, how can we be sure this creature isn’t just hunting for food like some wild animal?”
“Because only the internal organs are missing,” Millie said. “When a wild animal hunts for food, you’re going to see more than just the soft parts missing. Plus, as the doctor says, her throat was slashed.”
“And you’re sure it wasn’t a human who did this?” Tad asked.
“No,” the ME said. “I can’t be certain. But unless the killer used Wolverine-style claws like from the X-Men, I’m doubtful. Whatever opened her up was talon-like and incredibly sharp. I’ve seen cougar attacks before, and bear, and just about any critter around here that you can name. None of them could be responsible. And the gashed throat? Well, it was ragged—like claws rather than a knife.”
“Are you labeling this as a murder or an animal attack?” I asked.
Millie turned to the ME. “What’s your call?”
“There’s the rub. The thing that killed her was the fact that she bled out from her throat being slashed. The evisceration came after the fact. I plan to label it as a suspected homicide.”
Millie turned to us. “Please keep what you’ve been told private. We’re letting you into the investigation because she was your client, and considering what she came to you for, I’d be a fool to just write it off as nonsense. I’d like to ask you to have a look around, now that my men are done. If you see anything they might have missed because of the nature of the case, please tell me. I’d also like to know if you can provide any idea of what this creature is and whether it might strike again.”
Tad gave her a nod. “I promise for the company, this will be under an NDA. Do you understand?” He turned to the rest of us and we agreed. “All right, let’s take a look around and see if we find anything. We brought some of our equipment, though it’s usually more effective inside than out. Hank, why don’t you grab a couple cameras and whatever else you think would be helpful.” He turned to me. “January, since you’re witchblood and good at sensing spirits, why don’t you see if you can pick up on Danielle’s spirit, if she’s still here.”
I really didn’t feel like going ghost hunting, especially since I still had to find a way to deal with Charge’s spirit at home, but this was part of my job. I set out into the yard first. I’d check the house if I couldn’t pick up anything around the area where she was actually killed.
At first, all I sensed were a few chaotic wisps of energy that seemed to be tied to her murder, but not to any spirit in particular. They were floaters—drifting energy that had been released during an intensely emotional act that took form on their own. They were generally harmless if they were dispelled through cleansing, but if there were too many around, at times they could gather together and form a rudimentary form of consciousness. If the floaters were from positive happenings, you might find yourself with a mischievous but playful thoughtform bouncing around. If, though, the floaters were from violent or angry events, then the thoughtform would most likely take on a dangerous aspect.
“I sense floaters,” I said. “They’re newly formed, chaotic like a weak weather system. I think they may phase out on their own, but in a few weeks, someone should check them out to make certain.”
I started forward, but paused. There was an energy here, all right. I wasn’t sure if it was an entity or not, but I knew it wasn’t Danielle’s spirit. I tried to home in on it, to pinpoint where it was. As I began to walk toward one of the back windows, the sensation of anger and rage grew exponentially. I was using every fiber not to turn and run in fear.
“Where are you, my little beastie?” I whispered. To my left was a large maple tree, which stood next to her house. Something was blinking like a beacon there, coaxing me in. I held out my palms and aimed myself in that direction. The energy was growing thick and my stomach began to churn. I wasn’t used to anxiety attacks, but I could feel anxiety growing. Alarms hammered at my brain as I reached the trunk of the tree. Hesitant, yet knowing I needed to, I peeked behind it to see what might be hiding on the other side.
Behind the trunk of the massive maple tree, there was something poking out of the trunk. It wasn’t large, about the length of my middle finger and not quite as thick in diameter. Then, I realized what it was. Embedded in the maple’s trunk was a talon. Black and curved, it reminded me of a dinosaur claw.
I reached out slowly. I knew enough to avoid just grabbing it. Grabbing things without knowing what you were touching could lead to some pretty nasty shocks. The claw looked wickedly sharp, and curved in such a way that told me it could rend somebody to pieces.
Or eviscerate someone…
Scenes from Jurassic Park ran through my mind. Velociraptor? We couldn’t have a dinosaur on our hands, could we? That made no sense at all.
“Tad, come look at this,” I said, holding my hand over the claw, an inch above the surface. Immediately, I recoiled as I was hit by a rolling wave of violence and hunger, so strong it sent me reeling back. I gulped, grimacing as Tad came around the side of the tree.
“What did you—what the hell is that?” He pushed his glasses up on his nose again. “Is that a fang?”
“It looks like a talon or a claw. Whatever the case, it’s filled with the residue of a hungry, violent hunter.” I shivered. “I think the creature this belongs to killed Danielle.”
“We’d better have Millie collect this. I doubt if the cops even noticed it.” Tad said. “I’ll go fetch her.”
As I stood there, staring at the claw, I felt myself descending into a trance.
The next moment, a woman strolled by. She glanced around, staring at the yard like she was listening hard. Something loomed up behind her—a shadow—and waves of hunger and longing rolled over me. The desire to catch, to chase, to feed.
The creature passed through me, slipping around the side of the tree, watching the woman and—like a cat watching a bird—the excitement and desire to chase grew. It rested one hand on the tree trunk, its long talons curving against the surface of the wood. As it started to leap forward, the claw stuck deep in the trunk, ripping out of the creature’s hand and a scream echoed through the air, anger and pain and rage.
I pulled out of the trance as quickly as I could. I shook it away and followed Tad toward the patio. Dr. Bones was sitting there, smoking a cigar.
Coughing and waving away the smoke, I said, “You need to look on the backside of that maple tree. There’s a claw embedded in
it, and I think it belonged the creature that killed her.”
“Embedded in it?” Stubbing out the cigar, the medical examiner stood and headed over toward the tree.
I settled down at the patio table with Millie. “If you have any other people call in, saying they’ve seen something odd in their yard, or seen a monster, follow up. This creature is probably still around here and I don’t think Danielle was enough to satisfy its hunger.”
“I’ll alert the dispatcher to take the calls seriously. How far back do the legends of the Whatcom Devil go, do you know?” Millie asked.
Tad shrugged. “We were just starting to dive into this case when the stuff at January’s house happened. Before we could get back to this, Danielle was killed. In other words, we don’t have a lot of information to go on yet.”
Millie thought for a moment, then said, “I don’t know if we can pay you what Danielle might have, but is there a chance you can continue the research for us? I think you guys would be quicker than my men, and frankly, the budget’s so tight that if I put someone onto the research for this, it would be the same as pulling an officer off of the streets.”
“Of course,” Tad said. “And don’t worry about payment—we’ll just change this from a client-based project to one of our internal investigations. But if you could give us that talon—or at least as many pictures of it as you can that show relative size and depth, along with a statement as to how sharp it is—that would be helpful for our records.”
“I’ll ask Dr. Bones to send over what he can. We’ll have to keep the claw for evidence, but we can get you the specs on it and photos.” Millie stood. “All right, thank you for coming.”
“I’m just sorry we weren’t quick enough to put a stop to this,” Tad said.
“You probably couldn’t have anyway,” Millie said. “It’s been my experience that if someone—be they Otherkin, monster, or human—truly wants to kill somebody, there’s a good chance they’re going to find a way. We’re lucky when we can stop it. Don’t blame yourself.”
As we headed back to the van, I sensed Tad felt a little better. I also was back to wondering what the hell to do about my house. The fact that there was a good chance Charge had died because of an accident helped my mood, but it didn’t do squat for the situation.
Chapter Twelve
We headed back to the office, picking up my car before immediately heading to my place. It was already past one and we didn’t want to wait too long to head down into the basement. The drizzle turned to spatters of rain turned to a full-fledged soaking by the time we arrived at my house. Along the way, I texted Rowan and Teran, asking if they could meet us at the house.
I realized I hadn’t heard from Ari in a couple days and texted her a three-paragraph treatise on what was going down on my end. She didn’t text back immediately, but that didn’t worry me, given that I knew she was booked solid in the salon almost every day now. Her business had picked up and she was making money hand over fist, but it resulted in her being a lot busier than she was used to.
As we pulled in my drive, I saw that Rowan was already there. She was waiting on the porch, which had been expanded with the renovations, sitting on the porch swing. As I jumped out, dashing for the steps to avoid the downpour, Teran pulled her truck in behind the van.
“Busy morning?” Rowan asked.
“Weird. I’ll tell you about it later—or what I can about it.” NDAs were no joke, and I knew better than spill anything about Danielle’s murder. But I could ask Rowan about the Whatcom Devil and if she knew anything about it.
I unlocked the door, praying I wouldn’t find the place trashed. Ghosts could be just as destructive—if not more—than the living. But the living room looked fine—everything looked just as I left it. I felt a pang of regret. I had this lovely home and right now, I couldn’t live in it. At least, not if I wanted the cats and me to be safe.
We entered the house and, in pairs, checked out every room except for the storage room. Nothing seemed out of place, except that once again, every cabinet door and drawer in the kitchen had been opened. Teran started to close them. Hank was standing in the doorway, talking to her, when suddenly he yelled and lunged forward.
I whirled as Teran screamed.
Then, she said, “Oh thank gods…thank you.”
By then, I was at the kitchen archway, along with the others. Hank was standing there, one arm around Teran’s shoulders. In his other hand, he held a cleaver.
“Damn thing set off right at her, through the air,” Hank said. “I wasn’t close enough to stop it, but I was close enough to her to pull her out of the way. The cleaver landed in the wall,” he added, pointing with the knife to a gash in the wall next to where Teran had been standing.
“I don’t like this game,” Teran said. “I may be close to seventy, but I’ve got plenty of life left in me and I’d like to live it.”
Rowan popped her head around the corner. “Let’s get moving. The sooner we figure out what’s going on, the quicker this will end. January cannot go on living between her house and Killian’s.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I muttered, turning to follow her.
We headed into the storage room, where the energy was beating a tattoo against the walls. I could feel the pulse of it, and it nauseated me.
“Why does it seem stronger?” I asked. “I’m queasy.”
“I think because we discovered the hidden basement,” Rowan said. She strode over to the niche below the molding and hit the switch, opening the secret door that led down into it. “I smell something familiar,” she muttered. “Some energies have scents associated with them, and this one—this is one I encountered a long time ago.”
“Do you know what it is?” Hank asked. “I sense something strong too, and you’re right—it does smell familiar.”
Rowan glanced at the others. “Hank and I will go first. Wait until we call you.”
I wanted to protest, but common sense won out. Rowan was far stronger than any of us magically, and Hank was next in strength, in addition to being a physical powerhouse. It made sense for them to take the lead.
A moment later, the opening blazed with light, and Rowan called for us to come down. I cautiously descended the stairs. They were steep, with a railing on one side only. When I arrived at the bottom, I stopped.
The room was about half the size of the storage room above, and the first thing I saw was a motorcycle—not a Harley, but smaller. Big or small, though, what the hell was a motorcycle doing in the basement?
There was also an altar table, an amorphous-shaped statue on it, formed from dark blue glass with sparkles running through it. Behind the altar, someone had painted a mural. It was massive, covering the entire wall, and made me think of a bad acid trip. In fact, it gave me a headache just looking at it.
The mural was filled with clouds—not fluffy white ones, but heavy gray, billowing clouds that looked like either a pyroclastic flow or the mushroom clouds of an atomic bomb. Peering out from the clouds were creatures that resonated with another chord in me.
“Cthulhu?” I whispered.
Tad, who had just joined us, shook his head. “Not quite. But they give off the same energy.”
“Who’s Cthulhu?” Caitlin asked.
“Creation of a writer named H.P. Lovecraft. He lived a long time ago, and he wrote about chaotic elder gods who were looking to rise from the depths and take over the world,” I said. “Freaky stuff, but it was fiction.”
“His creations might have been fiction, but it’s believed he may have actually encountered the real Elder gods of Chaos, perhaps through astral travel or while in the DreamTime,” Rowan said. “The theory goes that he may have written out the nightmares he had from the encounter. But no, these are not of the Cthulhu universe, but they’re depictions of the real gods of Chaos, the gods the Covenant of Chaos follows.”
My heart dropped.
“The realm of Chaos is constantly seeking entrance into our world, constantly working on
the susceptible to get them to summon the agents of Chaos into this realm. I actually think that most of the chaos magicians are a few cards short of a full deck. They don’t seem to understand that the very force they worship is a force that would happily destroy them.”
We examined the rest of the room, but there was nothing else. Simply the ritual space, the mural, and a creepy amount of cobwebs and spiderwebs.
“Do you think there’s a portal in the picture?” I asked.
But even as I asked, the fully formed spirit of Charge Briarson came flying through the wall—through the mural—and hovered above us. His face was twisted and he looked to be cycling through pain and anger.
“That’s what drew him back,” Rowan said. “The mural has a lot of energy in it, though I don’t think it’s a portal the way you normally think of one. I think it was meant to be one, but it doesn’t have the necessary force behind it. However, it has enough to keep spirits tethered here and to work on them.”
“Can we mention the elephant in the room?” Tad asked. “Or rather, the bike. What’s a motorcycle doing down here?”
But I couldn’t answer. I was feeling strangely pulled to the mural. And then I resisted because I knew, within a shadow of a doubt, what had happened to Charge.
“My parents knew about the mural. What if Charge wasn’t trying to get to my mother, but to this mural? They found him down here, I know it. This is where he died. What else did they find in the other trunk besides clothes and the gun? I need to ask Millie.”
I turned and ran up the stairs. Between the energy of the mural and the depth of the basement, I doubted my cell phone would have the necessary bars down there. As I reached the storeroom, I hit Millie’s contact info and called her.
She answered after the first ring. “January, what’s up?”
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