The Demon Accords Compendium, Volume III

by John Conroe

  “Exactly right,” Caeco said. “Chief, we’ll need to see the crime scene right away and then talk to your two young witnesses, as well as the first adults on the scene.”

  “One, it’s well after dark and two, Marika Kelly admits that she never saw anything, just heard sounds,” Kent said.

  “One, we aren’t afraid of the dark and if you want fast answers we have to work fast, and two, we aren’t interested in what she saw or heard… we want to talk to her about Kristin,” Caeco said. “Her statement says they are close friends.”

  “You barely glanced at it,” he said.

  “I memorized it. Can we see the crime scene?”

  He paused and looked at them, uncertain, but then came to a rapid decision. “Let me get some officers armed and ready for escort,” he said.

  “I’m sure we can handle it, but do whatever you think best,” Caeco said.

  Thirty-five minutes later found them on the trail in the dark: three heavily armed officers, the department detective, the chief, and the three of them.

  “Here it is,” Chief Kent finally said as he aimed a heavy-duty spotlight at a crime tape barrier around a large section of the trail.

  The three young investigators spread out, powerful LED flashlights lighting up the ground inside the yellow police tape. At first none of the three went past the tape, instead observing carefully from outside as well as checking the ground farther away. Jetta knelt down and opened her small backpack.

  “Don’t stray any farther,” the chief warned.

  “There isn’t a werewolf within three hundred yards in any direction,” Caeco said.

  “You can’t know that,” one of the officers, a detective, said.

  Three black orbs the size of golf balls lifted themselves out of the pack, each with a glowing red light, then shot off into the night.

  “She can and does know that, but if you don’t want to take her word, how about Omega’s?” Jetta said. “Omega?”

  The chief’s own cell phone sudden spoke. “No thermal, auditory, or airborne chemical signatures. Caeco is correct. No werewolves, although I detect a pair of curious Eastern coyotes four hundred and fifty-two yards north by northeast.”

  None of the police officers spoke for a moment, then one younger patrol officer finally opened his mouth. “That was the Omega computer?”

  “And still is,” the chief’s cell phone answered.

  “Okay, here are those canine tracks, and I’ll allow that they’re big enough for a small werewolf,” Mack said, shining his light onto the ground just inside the tape.

  “You sound surprised,” the detective, Angelo Treviano, said.

  “The wounds that the boys suffered are not consistent with how werewolves usually attack,” Caeco said. “While they can swing a paw sideways like a bear, they almost always attack with their primary weapons—teeth and jaws.”

  “Neither of the bodies showed a single bite wound,” Mack said.

  “Trust us. Werewolves are all about the bite,” Jetta added.

  “But those are huge tracks,” Treviano objected.

  “For a domestic dog, they would be large although not outside the very large breeds, like Great Dane or Rottweiler. For an adult werewolf, they are smallish,” Caeco said. “Maybe a small female or a juvenile.”

  “Also, all of these tracks are pressed into the blood pools,” Mack said, looking closely with his light. “If a were had torn them apart, the blood would be pooled around some of these tracks. This looks like the canine stepped into the pools after the boys were down. The rest of these tracks are either very small domestic dogs or various human prints. I’m guessing this a heavily trafficked trail?”

  “Yes,” Chief Kent said.

  “Hey Caeco, look at the blood spatter on these trees,” Jetta said, shining an ultraviolet flashlight to make the spatters fluoresce on the vegetation.

  “What about them?” Detective Treviano asked, frowning.

  “They don’t travel as far as I’d expect. And I don’t see tissue in them,” Jetta said, looking closely at the leaves on a young sapling. The nervous cops exchanged glances.

  “You’re making this up,” the detective said in disbelief, shooting his boss a look that questioned everything about them.

  “Gentlemen, I’m not sure you completely understand how strong werewolves are,” Caeco said. “Chief Kent, you look like you know your way around a weight room… How much can you bench?”

  The chief stood up straight and looked at her a moment. “Three ninety-seven,” he said.

  “That’s excellent… for a human. A werewolf Jetta’s size could do twice that without breaking a sweat. I would expect to see blood and tissue spattered over an area two or three times this,” Caeco said. “You two see enough?” she asked her companions.

  Jetta nodded but Mack was kneeling down several yards outside the crime scene, taking a picture of something in the mud.

  “Whatcha got, Mack?” Caeco asked.

  “This canine climbed a little mound here. The paw spread out and left perfect claw imprints. Take a look, but I think there really is a werewolf around here,” he said.

  “You can tell from the claws?” Kent asked.

  “Werewolves have longer, sharper claws than regular canines,” Mack said. “They don’t live in wolf shape all the time, so their claws are never really worn down like a dog or wild wolf’s.”

  “So despite the whole strength thing, you agree there is a werewolf?” Treviano said.

  “I don’t think the two have anything to do with each other,” Mack said, moving out of the way to let his sister and friend both look at the track he’d found. He studied the bark on a large oak nearby.

  “What are you saying?” Kent asked.

  “I agree that it’s possible that a small werewolf is here on the Cape, or at least was,” Mack said, leaning close to the bark. “I also agree the boys were murdered. I’m just not certain the two go together.” He pulled a multitool from the chest pack he was wearing and pulled a bit of fluff from the bark.

  “What?” Treviano asked, eyes narrowed at him.

  “Fur,” Mack replied, putting the bit of fluff into a small plastic bag.

  “Chief, did the Icelandic girl come back from her vacation wounded?” Caeco asked.

  “I don’t know,” Kent said, frowning at them as if he were rapidly reconsidering their help.

  “Ah, actually Chief, her mother told me she had a small wound on her right leg,” another officer said. “Just a couple of punctures, but that she’d been favoring it when she got back,” she added.

  “Punctures? From what?” Caeco asked.

  “She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask,” the cop said.

  Both Mack and Jetta had spread farther out despite the chief’s warning. “Deer, squirrel, and turkeys. A whole bunch of turkeys,” Jetta said.

  “We have quite a few deer on the Cape, and a large flock of wild turkeys. Only bow hunting is allowed, and we get very few hunters. And there aren’t many predators, just foxes, fishers, owls, hawks, a few eagles, and the coyotes,” the chief said.

  “And a bobcat,” one of the patrol officers said.

  “I can’t see deer, but turkeys?” Mack said to his friend and sister.

  “Could drive the coyotes off a kill though,” Caeco said. “Plus the occasional squirrel or chipmunk.”

  “What about rabbits?” Jetta asked.

  “We don’t have many here. Cottontails are endangered in Maine,” another officer said. “Why?”

  “Yeah, what are you three going on about?” the chief asked.

  “You have what might be a young or small werewolf roaming around these woods. The boys were not fed on, correct?” Caeco asked.

  “According to the coroner, no,” Chief Kent said. “But people were on the scene fast. The surviving boy found a middle-aged couple in the parking area and they were first on the scene, mere minutes after the attack. No time to feed.”

  “A werewolf that wanted to e
at those boys would have just picked one of them up and ran off with the body,” Jetta said.

  “What are you really trying to say? You all keep hinting but you’re not saying it,” Kent said.

  “We think there’s a werewolf and there’s a killer, but we are not at all certain that they are the same,” Caeco said. “We’ll know more after we talk to all the witnesses, including the two adults that were first on the scene.”

  “That’s crazy!” the detective, Treviano, said. “Chief, this is nuts!”

  “He’s got a point,” Kent said. “No human is strong enough to tear apart a boy’s face with one blow.”

  “Not with their bare hand, but with a weapon, it would be easy to generate enough force,” Mack said. “Omega, how much force is generated by a baseball bat?”

  “Generally, six thousand to eight thousand pounds of force for a professional baseball athlete,” was the answer from the detective’s vest-mounted radio.

  “Rig some kind of claw weapon and it’d look a lot like those photos,” Mack said.

  “Correct, Mack. Enhanced review of one of the coroner’s photographs indicates evidence of what might be metallic particulate matter. In addition, the lacerations indicate a very sharp edge. Werewolf claws tend to tear more than slash.”

  “We’re good here, Chief. Let’s head back,” Caeco said.

  The police chief looked at his people, particularly his detective, who was scratching his head. “All right let’s head back. Terry, take point. Kit, you got the six o’clock.”

  Less than ten minutes later, they were back at the church parking lot, where a police SUV stood guard. The two officers inside got out and approached the team as the officers cleared their weapons.

  “Whatcha packing in that, Benelli?” Mack asked one of the guys in SWAT gear who’d escorted them.

  “Hornady Full Moon slugs,” the guy said.

  “Excellent. Twelve gauge is always a good choice,” Mack said before turning to a cop with a short AR-15. “It takes a whole bunch of five-point-five-six rounds to stop a were.”

  “Which is why we have select-fire weapons,” the cop said.

  “Outstanding,” Mack said with a smile before following his sister and Caeco to their own vehicle.

  “We’ll review the file and information, then get an early start in the morning,” Caeco told the chief over her shoulder before climbing into the driver’s seat.

  “I think they have their doubts about us,” Jetta said as they pulled away.

  “Oh, that detective is giving his boss an earful right now,” Caeco said. “Let’s get to the hotel, eat something, and get to work.”

  Early the next morning, Chief Kent dialed the cell number of the ultra-young FBI agent to see when she would be showing up.

  “Good morning, Chief.”

  “Where are you? When can I expect you?”

  “We’re on the Land Trust trail that goes to Great Pond. We’re on our way out now. Be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  Twelve minutes later, he got a buzz from Larry that he was letting the three investigators into the station. Thirty seconds later, they were in his office.

  “You have a ton of places for a werewolf to hide around here,” Mack said. “I feel better after seeing all these woods.”

  “I’m so glad our nature trails were able to soothe you,” Kent said.

  “Easy, Chief,” Caeco said. “We spent all night worried about a hungry werewolf who can’t find enough to eat. The green space in this town and the amount of food available means she probably won’t be killing anyone soon.”

  “We read all your police blotters for the last six months and found a significant uptick in missing pets, reports of coyotes bothering livestock on the farms around here, and several complaints about big dogs chasing deer,” Jetta said with a smile.

  “If there is a werewolf, wouldn’t he or she just turn back into a human and eat regular food?” the chief asked.

  “It’s not uncommon for a werewolf going through their first Change to get kind of stuck. It usually takes an Alpha to help them change back, especially if the wolf gets scared,” Mack said.

  “We interviewed the missing girl’s parents about an hour ago,” Caeco said. “She got bit in Iceland. They thought it was a stray dog. But Iceland has a pretty good-sized pack of werewolves and it’s very possible a young one nipped her.”

  “You already interviewed Vilhelm? And you scouted the Great Pond?” Kent asked. “What time did you start?”

  “Four a.m.,” Caeco said. “Wolves are crepuscular. Dawn is a great time to catch them out.”

  “So you think Kristin Vilhelmsdottir was bit by a werewolf in Iceland, Changed during the full moon last month, and hasn’t been able to change back?”

  “That’s our working theory. And someone else killed those boys,” Jetta said.

  Chief Kent looked at them for a moment. “I spoke to the coroner. He took a second look at the wounds. There was a bit of metal lodged in Lucas Downing’s jawbone.”

  “So you believe us?” Caeco asked.

  “Perhaps. But what are you doing to catch the killer?”

  “Trying to get the werewolf back. She’ll tell us who the killer is,” Caeco said. At the sight of his frown, she kept going. “She either saw him, heard him, or smelled him; likely all three. We get her out of hiding, feed her, and get her to Change back, and she can point out the killer.”

  “How certain are you of this theory?” the chief asked.

  “We set out food for her in six areas around the Cape,” Caeco said. “We also left an Omega micro-drone unit at each site to act as camera traps, except they’ll follow her if she shows.”

  “What do you bait a werewolf with? Steak?”

  “She’s from Iceland,” Jetta said. “Her mother says she loves fish. We left cod and haddock.”

  “And grabbed lobster rolls for lunch,” Mack said. “Can’t wait.”

  “How long till this works?” Kent asked, ignoring Mack’s comments.

  “A new wolf has hunting instinct but no skill,” Mack said, going serious. “If she’s lucky, she got a turkey or two and maybe got a bit of deer meat off a coyote kill. But she’s likely to be really hungry. Fish scent travels pretty far. We could have a hit any time.”

  “If this is Kristin, why did she stalk her best friend?” he asked.

  “We don’t think she was stalking Marika; we think she was escorting her,” Caeco said. “Marika told us she was nervous about those boys. She didn’t want to admit it, but their stares bothered her. Kristin likely smelled her friend’s fear and it triggered her instincts. Weres are incredibly protective of friends and family.”

  “Yeah, just ask Jetta here how that goes,” Mack said with a laugh that earned him a glare from his sister.

  “Excuse the interruption, but there is a hit on bait three,” Omega said through the chief’s speakerphone.

  “We’ll go collect her mother and Marika, Omega. Don’t lose her,” Caeco said, jumping up.

  “That is extremely unlikely,” the computer responded.

  Twenty-three minutes later, they were all walking along another popular trail in the town’s Greenbelt system, approaching the massive pond that occupied almost the middle of the township. In addition to the three young investigators and Chief Kent, there were five SWAT geared officers, Marika Kelly, and the missing girl’s mother, Hekla.

  “Okay, Chief, we’ll need you and your officers to hang back,” Caeco said as Jetta moved up front. The youngest Sutton was wearing black leggings and an oversized gray hoodie with the word ARCANE across the back in black and red letters. Her hands were empty.

  “No way. We have civilians with us,” Kent said.

  “Actually, we need them up front with Jetta and me, but Mack will hang back with you all,” Caeco said.

  “Female wolf,” Mack said to the chief. “She’s already been terrified by the Change. Most human male scents will be off-putting. Jetta’s wearing her boyfriend’s sweatshi
rt, so she’ll smell another werewolf, Jetta, Caeco, her friend, and her mother.”

  “You’re assuming it’s Kristin… What if you’re wrong?” Kent asked, hands on his hips, frowning mightily.

  Mack exchanged a quick glance with Caeco, who nodded. “Actually, we’re dead certain it’s her. That fur I gathered was a match for Kristin’s hair, courtesy of Hekla.”

  “When and how could you match them?” Detective Treviano asked.

  “In the car on the way to get Marika,” Mack said.

  “There are other ways to test things, Detective,” Caeco said. “Mack used a method he learned at College Arcane.”

  “I looked into that school,” Kent said. “You’re talking about magic. But you’re not witches?”

  “No, but I roomed with the best witch there is,” Mack said. “He taught me spells that anyone can do. This was one of those. Now we need to be quiet and let the ladies talk. We’re getting close; she’ll hear their voices.”

  “Hekla, call to your daughter but don’t yell. Just speak normally,” Caeco told the tall, anxious blonde woman who was holding hands with her daughter’s friend. “You too, Marika.”

  “Kristin?” Hekla called, glancing nervously at Caeco and Jetta. “Kristin?” Marika said a little louder.

  “Everyone freeze. She’s moving,” Caeco said, head tilted to listen.

  The chief opened his mouth to protest but Mack, who was standing with the officers, shook his head rapidly and held up a tablet computer. A map of the area showed a blue dot for their position and a red dot moving slowly their way from up ahead.

  Kent raised his brows and Mack mouthed, “Omega drone.”

  “Keep talking to her,” Jetta said. “Tell her it’s okay and that everything will be okay.”

  Hekla did just that, but she didn’t use English, instead speaking to her daughter in her native Icelandic. Mack and the police continued to watch his tablet display but Caeco was turning her head, tracking something only she could sense.

  Suddenly she held up one hand for attention, her eyes locked on a spot off to their right. “Keep going. She’s right there.”