Slaughter Series

by A. I. Nasser

  “There were slight movements in the eyes, a quick flicker, but the doctors think it’s just nerves,” the nurse said. “Other than that, he’s been pretty much the same since you brought him in.”

  The nurse stopped at his father’s room and rapped her knuckles softly on the door. Michael wanted to laugh, stopping himself from asking her who the hell she thought would answer. He waited for her to open the door, and slowly followed her into the small, confined space that had been his father’s home for the past few months.

  Daniel Cole sat at his usual place, his back to the door, staring through the window at the lush greenery outside. He was dressed in his favorite robe, his feet bare against the cold floor as his hands clutched the side of his chair.

  “Thank you,” Michael muttered as he stepped past the nurse and waited for her to leave. She nodded at him with a smile and ducked out the door, leaving him alone with Daniel.

  Michael pulled a chair from against the wall and sat down with a sigh. He gazed at the old man, the wrinkles on Daniel Cole’s face now deeper, his hair white and thin as bald spots began to appear in various areas, his skin dry and cracked. Michael could feel his heart drop at the sight of his father.

  “Hi, dad.”

  Michael waited for a reply he knew would not come, and turned his head away when he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. Six months and there was still no sign of Daniel Cole being anywhere inside the shell of a body that now sat alone in the hospital room, staring out into nothingness. Not a single reaction since Michael had found him sitting much the same way on his living room couch.

  “Dad, it’s me.”

  Michael didn’t even look at his father when he said it, knowing well that there would be no response. He had tried everything, yet as the days went by, his efforts were less and less vigorous. In the beginning, he had screamed and shouted, shaken his father until he could hear the man’s teeth rattle and the doctors had to pull him away. He had tried showing his father home videos, scrapbooks, even read one of his favorite novels out loud, and there had still been no response.

  Now Michael only sat, as quiet as the man beside him, and would merely say a word or two during his entire visit to set his mind at ease. In a way, he had become as numb as his father, and it was affecting everything in his life.

  Michael ruffled his hair and sighed heavily, closing his eyes as he listened to the soft ticking of the clock on the wall behind him.

  ***

  Deborah Adams woke up to the sounds of music playing from downstairs.

  Her eyes were heavy, exhausted after a week of duties that often had her bringing work home. She had been looking forward to a slow weekend, hoping for a lazy Sunday entailing nothing more than waking up late and dozing off in bed until late in the afternoon.

  She frowned, trying to make out what was playing on the radio downstairs, and quickly realized she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. She smiled weakly, already knowing exactly how much hell she was going to give Alan for this, and slowly rolled out of bed.

  Deborah turned on the bathroom lights and looked at herself in the mirror, taking in the disheveled look of her hair and the bedroom eyes gazing back at her. The last few months had been good to her and Alan, and although she still had much on her mind, she had never felt this relaxed in her life.

  It had been touch and go in the beginning. Coaxing Alan back to his usual self had taken time and effort. Even after he had completely come to and had been declared fit enough to go home, the doctors could never have prepared them for the emotional strain his experience would put him through. For weeks, she had been awaken by sudden screaming and thrashing, the first of which had frozen her blood cold.

  She had often asked him about them, but Alan always had the ability to be as vague as possible when he wanted to avoid talking about something. Whatever he was going through behind his closed eyes, they were his battles and his alone; there was nothing she could do to convince him to share. Thankfully, though, the nightmares were less regular now, and Alan had quickly jumped back into his daily routines.

  Deborah brushed her hair and washed her face, her nose slightly scrunching at the faint smell of burnt breakfast. She could hear Alan downstairs singing along to what she now recognized was The Who, and smiled to herself. His strength impressed her, and she marveled at how well he had handled everything since their run-in with Copper Tibet.

  That night still haunted her, though, and thinking about it usually sent shivers down her spine. Try as she could, she couldn’t get the image of Copper out of her mind. The monster’s grotesque features were engraved in her memory forever. She wished she could let it go as easily as Alan had, or at least push it so far into the back of her mind where it could never bother her again.

  It was easier said than done, and Deborah had quickly made peace with the fact that this was not one of those things she could simply forget. She had wanted to talk to Alan about it on several occasions, but seeing him at peace with the world around him had always stopped her from doing that. Besides, what mattered now was their life together, and she wouldn’t let the memories of Copper Tibet ruin that for them.

  Deborah made her way downstairs, allowing the cold hardwood floor to dispel her morning grogginess. The smell of burnt eggs was stronger, and as she walked into the kitchen, she almost broke out laughing at the sight of Alan dancing as he tried to clean up the mess. Two plates sat idly on the kitchen table, their contents unwelcoming, but her stomach groaned with the prospect of food.

  “I don’t know what’s worse,” Deborah said. “The fact that I actually want to eat whatever it is you put on my plate, or the dancing.”

  Alan turned and shot her a smile. “I tried to make something special, but it kind of got out of hand,” he said.

  “What was wrong with plain scrambled eggs?” Deborah asked.

  “Too boring,” Alan replied.

  “But edible.”

  Alan threw his hand towel at her. “Just shut up and eat,” he laughed.

  Deborah took a seat at the table, waiting for him to finish cleaning up before he joined her. She watched him attack his food, and she smiled at how he was trying to hide his grimace with every bite. He was eating in a hurry, as if trying to get the ordeal over with before his taste buds forced him to gag.

  “Your mother called,” Alan said, downing a large cup of orange juice to mask the taste of the eggs.

  Deborah frowned, her appetite suddenly lost.

  “You do know that you’re going to have to talk to her sooner or later, right?” Alan asked, looking at her seriously.

  Deborah shook her head in frustration. Despite every attempt to shut her mother out of her life, Rachel Adams still found a way to ruin a perfectly good morning.

  “She’s a stubborn woman,” Alan said. “She’s going to keep at it until you talk to her.”

  “Could we change subjects, please?” Deborah asked, playing with her food as her eyes stared pleadingly at Alan. He shrugged and shifted his attention back to his plate, his morning joyfulness gone.

  Deborah sighed. She had avoided her mother like the plague ever since their talk at the hospital. Deborah was incapable of even talking to the woman after everything she had told her. The stories of the founding families and Copper Tibet, the history of the missing children and the involvement of the Council. It had all disgusted her more than anything she could imagine, and there was very little love left in Deborah’s heart for her mother.

  She had accepted the position of principal only to get Rachel out of the school, hoping that somehow it would protect the children of Melington from the Council. She had lost her trust in its members completely, and it had taken all her power not to blow the whistle and share the truth with the world.

  Besides, a story about a monster that kidnapped children in the dead of the night would have been completely insane.

  When Alan’s nightmares had calmed down, when she felt that sharing her mother’s story with him would not hurt him in
some inexplicable way, she had told him everything. Alan had listened to her for an hour without any reaction, and when she had finished, he simply hugged her and told her that everything would be okay, as if she were the one in need of comfort.

  She loved him for that.

  Alan looked up at Deborah and set his fork down, folding his arms on the table and looking her straight in the eye. “It’s over, Debbie,” he said. “No one’s been taken in months, and for all we know, Copper Tibet is gone.”

  Deborah nodded. “It doesn’t mean she deserves forgiveness.”

  “I’m not asking you to do that,” Alan said. “I’m asking you to talk to her. Get some closure, and then think about forgiveness. Right now, though, it’s pure anger that’s driving your decisions, which is never a good thing.”

  Deborah frowned. “Do you blame me?” she asked. “She knew everything. They all did. They could have done something about it, but they didn’t.” Deborah felt her body shudder. “They were feeding the thing, Alan. They were giving the monster what it wanted.”

  “I’m not saying what they did was right, Debbie,” Alan said.

  “Good, because it sure as hell sounds like it.”

  Alan sighed. “No one hates them for what they did more than I do,” he said. “My own parents were involved in all this before Kathrine was taken. But for now, we’ve won. Let’s try to move forward, okay?”

  Deborah held his gaze for a few seconds, then shook her head slowly and stood up. She took both plates, bent down and kissed his forehead, and made her way to the sink.

  “You’re a strange man, Alan Carter,” she said as she turned on the water and began to rinse the plates.

  “It’s part of my charm,” Alan replied.

  ***

  Alan Carter waited until Deborah left for her morning run before turning on his computer. Waiting for the machine to start up, he ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his temples.

  He hadn’t slept for days.

  The nightmares were getting more vivid, and although he had been able to keep his emotions under wrap, hiding it all from Deborah was starting to take a toll on him. He had practically fallen asleep during breakfast preparations, and if it hadn’t been for the music on the radio, he would have burned down the kitchen.

  The light blue background flashed at him and a window popped up, requesting his password. Typing in his sister’s nickname, he let himself into his desktop and quickly clicked on the first of many folders lined up neatly on the screen.

  Research was slow now that Deborah was living with him. The pace frustrated him, but he had to admit that having her in his life easily made up for that. Still, he was beginning to fear he was running out of time.

  Copper Tibet had vanished completely since Alan had denied him his last victim, but after what Deborah had told him, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He remembered what Rachel told her about the sacrifices the founding families had made; their deal with the devil, so to speak, and that made things infinitely more troublesome.

  Copper Tibet wasn’t bound by blood anymore. He was free to roam around Melington and snatch up whoever he desired, which made finding him difficult. Without the blood binding, there was no telling who his next victim could be, and it bothered Alan how Copper hadn’t taken anyone yet.

  What was the monster waiting for?

  Alan opened the first of many files he had gathered on the history of Melington, all the way back to when Copper had been burned alive. There was ridiculously little information out there, and Alan could only assume it was because the Council had tried to hide its past as much as possible. He knew he would eventually have to talk to Rachel Adams and fill in the missing pieces, but he was pushing that encounter as much as possible. He wanted Deborah with him when it happened, and as long as she wasn’t talking to her mother, he didn’t see a meeting happening any time soon.

  Alan rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch before starting on the new batch of research he had downloaded. He had a good half hour before Deborah returned, and he needed to make the best of that time.

  Six Months Ago

  “This isn’t easy for me.

  The truth is, I’ve been meaning to tell you all about this a long time ago, but the timing was never right. In retrospect, I doubt there ever was a proper time. Maybe, I was trying to avoid this as much as possible. Maybe, I didn’t want you involved in any way. I really can’t tell you for sure what my reasons were, but what I can tell you is that I love you, and I would do anything to protect you.

  It may not seem like it after you hear what I have to say, but I need you to believe me. It’s the truth, even if it’s hard to fathom right now.

  You have to understand, this was not something any of us chose. This was a burden we had to bear for decades. A deal which had been struck before my time or my father’s time. For generations, our family has been forced to uphold an agreement that had been struck to protect our own.

  That thing you saw, the monster that did this to Alan, it’s real. I can’t begin to understand what you are going through, because I have never seen it before, nor would I want to. I had always hoped it would never come to this. I prayed your only involvement with that thing would be as far as my involvement has been until now. But, it cannot be helped anymore.

  It has a name, though, a name we only whisper amongst each other; one we avoid whenever possible. It’s as if speaking the name would give it power, and it already has too much of that to begin with. We’ve deleted the name from our records, wiped out the monster’s very existence, hoping one day we could find a way to rid this world of it and pretend it had never existed to start with.

  Its name is Copper Tibet.”

  Chapter 2

  Rachel Adams could feel her hands shake as she scanned the report in front of her.

  She fidgeted in her seat, maintaining a deep frown she thought would mask the dread racing through her. It was the fourth missing person’s report she had received in the past six months, and she looked up at Sheriff Fiona Bright, hoping the woman could not see her exasperation over what she was reading.

  Rachel knew how important it was to maintain a strong image in front of the Council and everyone concerned, and despite her hate for Daniel Cole, she had quickly developed a sick kind of respect for her predecessor. She had never expected the job to be easy, knowing well there would be no end to the sheer amount of problems that required her immediate attention. This, however, was far above her, and she had no idea where to start.

  Fiona Bright was staring at her, the weight of the Sheriff’s gaze heavy on Rachel as she continued reading. Ever since she had taken on the mantle of Chairman, Rachel had come to dread these meetings. Fiona rarely visited with good news, and Rachel longed for the days when meeting with the Sheriff meant coffee, a salad and meaningless gossip to kill the time. There was a side to Fiona Bright that very few people knew, and Rachel Adams hadn’t wanted to be one of them.

  “Your verdict?” Fiona asked, finally breaking the silence.

  Rachel clicked her tongue. “What would you suggest?”

  “You know what I would suggest,” Fiona snapped, “but apparently we’ve changed strategies and are happier shooting in the dark.”

  “The blood bindings are over, Fiona,” Rachel said.

  “Not that anyone had a say in it,” Fiona replied.

  Rachel dropped the report onto her desk and looked at the Sheriff from over her spectacles. She hated the way Fiona’s tone towards her had changed. There was only resentment where there had once been respect, and it was difficult holding back the instinct to snap back and put the Sheriff in her place. Rachel counted to ten, forcing herself to calm down, resilient in her efforts to not turn into another Daniel Cole.

  Although, all things considered, a Cole would probably handle this particular situation better.

  “I warned Daniel about the Carter boy,” Fiona said. “He shouldn’t have been allowed that much freedom.”

  “You had the c
hance to stop him,” Rachel replied, watching in slight amusement as Fiona winced. “This should have been dealt with a long time ago.”

  “That thing can’t be stopped,” Fiona argued. “It’s been tried before, and the results were devastating. Do you want to take responsibility for what could happen if we tried again?”

  Rachel gazed at Fiona. “Do you think I’m happy with our current situation?”

  “You don’t seem to be too worked up about it.”

  “I’m not going to bind that monster again,” Rachel hissed. “I’m not going to send children to their deaths because it’s convenient for the Council.”

  “Then find another solution, Rachel, because this is ridiculous,” Fiona said through gritted teeth. “At least with the bindings I was able to handle these situations. Now they’re open cases I can’t do very much with. Word is going to get out, you know.”

  Rachel sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. Fiona was right. As much as she hated to admit it, the blood bindings had made things easier to keep under wraps. Now, there was no telling how long it would be before word spread that children in Melington were going missing.

  Alan Carter was the key. He was the only person she knew who had come back from the catatonic hell Copper Tibet sent his victims to, and he was their best option right now. However, with the way Deborah was hiding him from the world, it would be impossible to talk to him without going through her first.

  Which made things even more difficult.

  She remembered the horrid look on her daughter’s face when she had told her everything; a look she had never seen before. And the anger that had seeped in between the horror blazed out of her eyes like daggers. Deborah had been furious by the end of it, and since that day, Rachel had little contact with her daughter. She didn’t blame her, of course, and could only imagine how much hearing about the founding family history had emotionally scarred Deborah. It didn’t help that a few of the children the Council had served up to Copper Tibet had been Deborah’s students.