Angels of Vengeance: The Furies, Book 1

by David Thompson

  "Out of body experience? That can be caused by most anything. How long did the events last?" Dylan questioned as went to a wall lined with testing equipment.

  "Only about ten, maybe fifteen minutes."

  "Any ill effects? Nausea or dizziness before the visions?"

  "No, but I was slightly nauseous afterwards, for a few moments." Dan watched as Dylan opened the vial and smelled.

  "Smells like wine. No off odors," Dylan remarked as he selected a slender pipette and drew up a small amount. "Almost sounds like the reports of drinking ayahuasca, a nasty brew South American native priests would drink to have visions of the gods."

  He placed the sample in a tray with multiple small cups. He slid the tray into what appeared to be a tall microwave over. He shut the door and started typing commands on a keyboard.

  "Alright, give this thing a few minutes and we'll see," he said. The device began to blink some lights and emit a soft clicking noise.

  Dylan leaned back and watched Dan. "So, the effects were transitory? Lasting a few minutes?"

  Dan nodded and watched the machine do its work.

  "Doesn't sound like a drug, honestly. You'd still be flying high," Dylan said as he saw the results begin to appear on the screen. A few lines with spikes, and small text.

  "Ok, alcohol. Some esters, trace elements of sulphur, phenols, some nitrogen compounds, that's about it. You know, in school I saw the same with samples of wine found in old Mediterranean artifacts. This is really old recipe wine. But no abnormal compounds," Dylan said, opening the sample vial again. "May I?"

  Dan nodded and watched as Dylan tasted the sample. He sat back and looked at the sample. "This is unique. Quite good. Where's it from, again?"

  "She said it was Greek."

  "Nothing modern, I can safely say." Dylan looked at Dan. "I travelled all along the Med, when I was in college. I did a year abroad in Italy. I must have tried all the local wines all along the area. Never tasted this type of wine. Ever. Have any more?"

  "About half a bottle that she left."

  "Who? Is this someone new?" Dylan asked.

  "I've never seen her before the other day, the grocery store thing," Dan explained.

  "I'd love it if you could get me a bottle next time you see this new friend."

  "She did say her basement had a whole box of it. The bottles were wrapped in straw, a funny shape," Dan said.

  "What was the shape?"

  "Like a vase, with two handles. Looked to be ceramic."

  Dylan's eyebrows went up. "Terracotta? That'd make it an amphora."

  "A what?"

  "Among my many hobbies, besides wine and games, I'm a huge fan of archeology. What you are describing is what the ancients used to make and store wine in. Meaning, your new friend has access to wine that hasn't been seen on this planet since the Greeks were at the apex of their culture. Well before Rome." He peered at the wine sample and looked at the display again. "You said she had left the bottle?"

  "Yes."

  "If at all possible, bring that bottle in here. I'd love to examine it." He tapped the screen. "If anything, I can test the terracotta, find out it's age. What did you say she did?"

  "I think she and her sisters are bounty hunters," Dan explained. "At least she seems to be involved in tracing criminals."

  "Then she might have a cache of antiquities," Dylan pointed out.

  "Which may mean she's violating multiple state and international laws."

  "Precisely!" Dylan tasted the wine sample again.

  "This gets stranger and stranger," Dan walked leisurely out of the lab.

  Dan was walking slowly to his office when Jones spotted him.

  "Hey, buddy, we're rolling in a bit late, aren't we?" Jones said, smiling. He pulled up short and looked closely at Dan. "Dude! Who is she?"

  "Who is who?"

  "C'mon, I know that look! Rode hard and put up wet! Danny, Danny, Danny." Jones' smile got even brighter. "You do recall we have another funeral later this afternoon, right?"

  Dan stopped as he entered his office. "Shit, I totally forgot. Seriously."

  "You have a few hours." Jones stood in the doorway and looked at Dan. "Maybe go back and get a nap, and definitely a shower. I'll cover and then meet you at the church. Oh, we both get drivers, so you don't have to be totally awake. I’ll see that your driver picks you up from your house."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  San Marin

  Derek Jones allowed his wife, Rhonda, to finish tying his tie, having already tried three times to get it right. He was in his full-dress uniform, for the first time since being promoted to detective. Man, he was looking good in the deep blue uniform, with epaulets on the shoulders displaying his rank in small gold bars and leaves. Jones stopped and looked at himself in the mirror. Yeah, looking good!

  Erica, his youngest, peeked from behind as Jones looked at his gold badge, a black ribbon covered the middle. He carefully pinned it to his uniform.

  "Is this funeral for the girl cop who was killed?"

  "Yes. Her name was Kelsey," Jones answered.

  "Did you know her very well, Daddy?" Eric asked, her eyes wide.

  "Yes, I did." Jones crouched to eyelevel with the 6-year-old.

  "Did she get shot while being a cop?"

  "No, a bad man fooled her when she was off-duty."

  "Will you get this bad man, daddy?"

  "You can bet on that one, sweetie." Jones' eyes turned hard. "Oh yes, I will find this bad man and throw his butt in jail."

  "Good! Cause you da man! right Daddy?"

  "I da man, sweetie," Jones said, lifting her up as he stood. He held her closely as he turned and headed to the living room. He paused to pat his 9-year-old son, Derek Junior, on the shoulder. He gently put Erica down and she stood next to her older brother.

  Jones stepped back and looked at both, sternly. "Listen up, gang. I’ve got to be gone for a while. Now, you guys better behave for your momma. Seriously, I get any word you are giving her a hard time while I'm gone, it'll go badly for you both when I get back, understand?"

  Both stood straight and saluted. Erica grinned, showing off two missing teeth.

  Jones turned and headed to entryway. Rhonda stopped him just as he opened the door. "How's Dan holding up?"

  Jones kissed her tenderly, and shook his head. "He's faking it. Pretending he's cool and all. But Daryl said he had some hallucinations after drinking some old wine, so I have to watch him. He might have a problem."

  "Don't cover for him too much, dear. If he needs help, let the Chief know. Anything we can do, we'll do it." Rhonda kissed him again, then pushed him away.

  Jones walked to the driveway where an unmarked squad car awaited, driven by Sergeant Sam Kennedy, patiently waiting for Jones to get in the car.

  Jones took a seat next to the older man. The car sped off, making a fast right, and they sped out to the highway. There was little to talk about, both men were alone with their thoughts. The loss of one of their own, the pain, the guilt, and no damned idea of where to start.

  When they arrived, the small church was filling up quickly. There was a motorcycle patrolman guiding cars into the small parking lot. He waved Kennedy and Jones into the lot and they parked in a slot next to another unmarked car. It was Dan’s ride, his driver an older, retried officer, Sargent Lowery.

  Dan emerged from the car in the same dark suit and tie as yesterday, except the shirt was fresh. Dan looked at Jones in his sharp dress uniform.

  Dan walked and reached out to shake Jones' hand, then pulled him close.

  "Why wasn't I told about dress blues?" Dan whispered.

  "Why are you whispering? Memo said only patrol officers. You look as nice as you can get. Me? I make this uniform look good, pal," Jones laughed. "Besides, I'm a pall bearer, thus the uniform, you just get to sit and nap. Me? I have an important job here. I'm also her escort to the state line, with Las Vegas cops taking over the motorcade when we get to Nevada."

  Dan watched as
various news vans began filling the street. Reporters going over their notes while cameramen set up tripods and adjusted lights.

  "Yes. And if you screw this one up, it'll get national attention." Dan smiled as he turned to the church. "Have fun, buddy."

  "Thanks, thanks a lot, pal." Jones grumbled as he watched Dan enter the church. He turned as the hearse stopped by the main church doors. He joined several more officers at the back. As the back opened, Jones saw that the flag covering the coffin was crooked. He held up his hand, stopping the driver from pulling on the coffin.

  "Dude, seriously? Look at all the people and cameras." Jones stepped around the driver and adjusted the flag. Jones stepped back and allowed the driver to roll the coffin out onto the rolling casket carriage. The television news aimed their cameras as Jones led the procession into the church.

  Inside, Dan sat next to Sandra and Duffy McAdams, the older patrolman who was the last to see Kelsey alive. Duffy was Kelsey's training officer, and they had spent a lot of time together the last several months. Duffy had treated her like one of his daughters. A father of three daughters, it was easy to get attached to the young trainee. His eyes were red and he kept wiping his face with a white handkerchief. Sandra kept patting him on the back, and would occasionally look at Dan.

  Dan's eyes never left the coffin as the pallbearers rolled it to the front and gently locked it in place at the front of the aisle. He refused to look around, partly just to keep his composure, the other to make sure he didn't see something unusual in the back, another hallucination.

  After the memorial service, Dan followed the crowd out and watched as the coffin was loaded back into the hearse. Jones checked the coffin to made sure the flag was in straight, it would be taken off, folded, then given to her father in Colorado. Jones then smoothly pushed the coffin into the black vehicle and gently closed the door.

  Escort patrol cars started lining up, their lights came on: Red, blue, and white strobes flashing, hazard flashers on and headlights blinking. The lights reflected in Dan's sunglasses as he stood and watched. His jaw was clenched, and under the glasses, his eyes were narrow slits.

  Three motorcycle officers were waiting in the road, keeping traffic at bay while the procession started up.

  Lowery walked up and stood next to Dan and watched. "We got to get moving, they're waiting. We escort her as far as the county line, then we get back to the station. Cars from the next country take over, and repeat until she's back in Colorado Springs," Lowery explained. Dan grunted and then followed Lowery to the car.

  As they drove out onto the road, Dan allowed himself to look around. TV vans crowded the sides of the street, and once on the main road, several firetrucks had their ladders extended out over the road. People lined the road all the way to the edge of the city.

  Not once did he see anything unusual. Maybe the wine had finally worn off.

  ***

  Furies House

  In the Furies' living room, Kelsey watched the televised coverage of her funeral on a projected image in the air in front of the weapons wall. Tisiphone sat on the couch, watching their guest.

  "You know, most prefer to actually go to the services, stand in the back and get all upset at everyone crying," Tisiphone pointed out.

  Kelsey turned away from the images. "I'll go to the one back home. How will I get there?"

  Tisiphone shrugged. "Easy. You just think and then you're there. Remember, your only limits are self-imposed. Disincarnates are not bound to physical restrictions any more than immortals."

  Kelsey nodded and looked back to the images. The funeral procession was turning onto a small highway heading east, into the desert. "Wow. Jones is right behind the hearse. He's a damned good cop. All those guys are. I loved the drive out here from Colorado. I never liked the winters at home." Kelsey turned to Tisiphone and added, "We're getting closer to finding his first victim. Then it'll be up to you, I guess."

  "Yes, it has to be in my own way and my own fashion," Tisiphone cautioned, "We can't allow the humans to take this man out, or you, Brianna, and the others, will have to spend even more time in limbo. As nice as you are, you can't stick around here."

  Kelsey turned back to the television. "I understand. I'd love to be there when he's taken down."

  "Yes, you'll be there. I want all his victims to be there."

  "It'll be crowded," Kelsey pointed out.

  "The more, the merrier."

  "I just have one more question, why is Brianna so much more..." Kelsey was at a loss for words. "Here? Less... etheric. Do you understand?"

  "I get it. She's more substantial. We have no idea why."

  "I have an idea," Gaia said as she walked into the room. "It may explain why her uncle saw Megaera."

  She took a seat on the couch next to Kelsey and patted her on the knee. Tisiphone fixed Gaia with a stare.

  "What? It could help ease Megaera's mind and then she'd get back on to attending with her petitioners," Gaia answered Tisiphone's unasked question. "I am still researching this, I have a few more people to speak with, but it may have something to do with this young man's great, great grandmother."

  Gaia looked at Kelsey and winked.

  "Even as late as a few decades ago, our kind loved to wander the earth and dally with the pretty mortal women," Gaia explained.

  "More so back in our day, but yes, I've spotted a few immortals in my travels. Nothing but a gang of horney old gods," Tisiphone sighed.

  "Men, I guess they're all alike?" Kelsey commented. Tisiphone nodded.

  "You'll feel a tugging momentarily. You'll find yourself drawn to the service, so get ready," Gaia warned.

  "I'm not ready! I want to help Brianna finish the search," Kelsey protested.

  "Not possible. But you'll know when Tisiphone is successful in fulfilling the petition," Gaia added.

  Kelsey looked from Tisiphone to Gaia and back, then she looked at the television, still on the funeral procession. "Look! They're already in my old hometown! It takes days to drive that far!"

  "Time passes differently here." Gaia smiled as Kelsey began to fade. "Just relax and you'll be there."

  Tisiphone sighed when Kelsey had fully vanished.

  "I was getting a bit tired of that one, mother," Tisiphone confessed.

  "Yes, and it showed, dear," Gaia said. "I told Megaera earlier, I'll be away trying to sort all this out, including that warning you brought me. At least I have a starting point."

  "I hope Megaera gets herself sorted out, she's shirking her duties around here."

  Gaia began to fade. Then she solidified again, momentarily.

  "Promise me you won't act on any petition involving them until I get back, Tisiphone," Gaia stressed. She finally disappeared.

  "I can't promise that, mother!" Tisiphone shouted at the air after Gaia had gone.

  ***

  In Alecto's domain, Brianna was still working the computer. Alecto watched as faces blurred past, faster and faster. Brianna was scrolling through newspaper morgue databases very rapidly. Alecto was impressed, this kid was almost as good as herself. Almost.

  Abruptly, Brianna found something. A pretty blonde in a photo connected to a news story about a death from 15 years ago. "Alecto, check this out. Same last name, Roberta Banks. It says she drowned. The police had questions about what happened, and looked at her cousin but declined to charge him."

  "Who's the cousin?"

  "Kyle Banks."

  "Bingo! This maybe who we're hunting, babe." Alecto nodded. Very impressive. She added, "Now search all newspaper records for any obituary she's in, see if we can't find the cemetery where she's buried."

  "Can't we just call her up?"

  "What? Like a séance? I think not. Stranded souls typically stick close to where their bodies were buried. Even Kelsey has gone to her burial site, and she'll stay there until this guy is taken out. I'm surprised you haven't gone."

  "What? I have to go to the cemetery? What would I do there? Talk to squirrels?"


  "No, for some reason you're different. Mother is trying to find out why."

  "Phew," Brianna sighed. "That is a depressing place."

  Brianna turned her attention to the search, now scrolling past images of newspapers that came up after she'd typed the drowning victim's name and the keyword: Obituary. She pulled up multiple newspaper obituaries. She stopped on one, it listed the mortuary where the services were to be held.

  "Here's one, Alecto," Brianna said as she zoomed in on the notice. "Some small town in Georgia. Gives the address for graveside services."

  "Yes, perfect. Feel like a short trip?" Alecto asked.

  "Sure!"

  Alecto put her hand on Brianna's shoulder and the room disappeared, countryside flashed past. Breanna’s stomach leapt into her throat as the world blurred, Alecto twisting space and time to traverse the country. They stopped in a small cemetery as the sun was beginning to set. Three-time zones in under 2 seconds.

  “Wow,” Brianna gasped. “That is way cool! It felt like a roller coaster! Like when you get to the first top and it drops you!”

  "I’m glad you enjoyed it. She's here somewhere. I'd imagine she probably very weak," Alecto pointed out. "Let's walk slowly, we'll attract her attention so she should show up, but faintly."

  They spread out. Brianna took the fence by the road, and Alecto started at the far end, by several tall pecan trees.

  Brianna walked for what felt like hours. She stayed quiet, moving very slow, listening for any voices. The sun had set and the stars came out as they searched.

  Brianna heard several whispers, but none were the voice of a young woman. Most were grumpy old ghosts who loved to complain to anyone walking past their resting spot. Eventually, she stopped and looked around. She was on the same row as Alecto.

  "It appears she's not here," Brianna whispered. "I passed her grave marker, so perhaps she wasn't murdered after all."

  Alecto held herself motionless and held a finger up. "Quiet. Now, listen."

  Nothing except leaves rustling in the breeze. There was the distant chorus of tree frogs singing, and some crickets sounding off. Then, softly, buried in the sound of the leaves, there was a hoarse whisper.