by Grey, T. A.
First, Abbigail took in the scene just as the detectives would do. It helped her to get an idea of how the attack took place, then she could better tell the detectives how the attack possibly happened. She was knew at this, still had a lot to learn, but she was pretty good. She’d had an excellent mentor who’d trained her under his wing and helped her to get this job. God, she missed him.
The girl, already determined to be a shapeshifter from a local pack who’d gone missing two nights before, was found at the back of this alley between two brownstone city apartment buildings. The residents of the Green Tree apartments peered down at her and the team from their little windows up above and from behind the yellow tape closing off the crime scene; their faces illuminated in the blue and red sweeping lights from the officers’ cars.
The alley was typical. AC units and small windows faced each other from both apartment buildings. This path was only really here for maintenance men who needed to work on the AC units or for the utilities men to check the power lines. A six-foot tall fence stood at the back of the alley. The girl’s body was found right in front of it on a patch of concrete.
Abbigail looked back down the path where the faces watched with morbid, avid fascination and noted the alley to be only about twenty feet wide with the AC units taking up a good four of that from either side. A small pathway. She’d spotted the large community-sized dumpsters as she’d pulled into the lot. Why hadn’t the killer just dumped her in there? Did he want the body to be found? Did he get interrupted and had to be quick about it? If he just happened upon her here and killed her, that’d make sense, except that a shapeshifter being out this far away from pack alone, didn’t make any sense.
Abbigail squatted beside the girl. She had blonde hair, the natural kind that had hints of brown from being out in the sun. Her eyes were open, face tilted towards the alley. The majority of the blood had spilled from a major neck wound, possible throat cutting or garroting but more blood covered her abdomen, wetting her brown cowboy sloganed t-shirt to her skin. One shoe was off; they’d found it at the beginning of the alley. She’d struggled; the shoe probably came off during.
As medical examiner for the paranormal unit of the Fort Collins Police Department, Abbigail got to touch the body first. She shouldn’t even have the job she had, was too young. But she’d graduated high school early, gifted classes, then went through a special FBI program, a brand-new unit on studying supernatural cases. She’d been surprised to find her classes not filled to the brink. Who wouldn’t find learning about the supernatural beings of the world utterly fascinating? Apparently many. Then she’d met Stanley Haubermann, a middle-aged detective and behavioral profiler who’d started the program. He’d taken her under his wing and taught her everything he knew. Not that she was that special. He’d done it to a few other members from her graduating class. She was just the only one to already have a job practicing his teachings.
Abbigail gently pushed the victim’s head back, left, and right. The cut was deep and clean. Not a serrated blade, not thin enough to be a garrote.
“Definitely a blade,” she called out. “Rigor mortis has set in. She’d been here at least four hours probably no longer than 12.” Her skin had already begun to turn a purplish hue; her muscles already tightening.
The detectives quieted and came closer. Her supervisor, Mike, leaned down next to her, his keen eyes professionally scoping out the body. Abby pressed her fingers around the neck to feel for splintered or broken bones but found none. She lifted the shirt and the detectives leaned over to peer.
“Got her a good four times, then took out the neck, I bet,” Mike said.
“That’d be my guess,” Abby agreed, eyeing the deep red cut into victim’s abdomen. “Arm bent up that way, he was holding her from behind, she’d been reaching back to try to get his hair, pull his arm away, something. That’s when he slit her. She fell down just like that, still reaching for him.”
“Check her hands,” Mike said.
Abby sidled to the victim’s head and lifted each of her hands, paying specific attention to her nails and palms. “Defensive stab wounds.” They happened during knife fights or on victims of knife homicides. The victims throw out their hands to try to dodge or block the swinging blade, cutting their own hands in the process. Blood was caked under the victim’s fingernails making them look murky brown.
“What age do you put her at? The Alpha of the shapeshifters said the girl their missing is about seventeen.”
“Yeah, I’d say that’s right judging from the size of the body, the facial features, her teeth. Definitely a teen. I’ll know more once we get her back to the lab.”
Mike stood, pulled out his notebook and scribbled down some notes. “Anything else for us?”
Abbigail looked back down the path. “Definitely killed here. He dragged her here, lost her shoe in the struggle. She fought back, maybe even got away from him for a few seconds when he started slashing at her giving her the wounds on her hands. Eventually he got her turned around and slit her throat for the final killing blow.”
“All right, we’ll have the body sent down for processing. Let me know if you get anything else.”
“Will do.” Abbigail walked down the path then removed her bloodied booties and gloves, handing them over to another crime scene investigator with a trash bag held open.
“Any luck?” he asked.
Abbigail shrugged. It was too soon to say.
She headed to her car and saw that it wasn’t even ten in the morning yet. Time to head home and try to get a quick nap in before they got the body down to the lab. She let out a jaw-cracking yawn then took off for home.
Chapter Two
Alrik lifted his knee high to his chest then let it slam down. His heavy boot caught the demon’s chin slamming its bony skull into the ground with a fleshy crack. The idummi squealed a heinous, ear-piercing sound before Alrik let his boot connected with the demon’s face again, ending the squeal.
Dragging in a heavy breath, Alrik turned to the temple and surveyed the grounds. The seer’s home was a decrepit stone structure with two rock pillars out front acting as an archway to an empty dark doorway. The home itself, if one could call it that, looked like a small rock hovel. Jagged points of rock formed the outside of the house from hundreds of rocks of various sizes and colors, from a chalky white to a shiny black that glinted in the hazy sky’s hazy pink glow.
The one-story abode had no door but a dirty dark brown curtain that billowed in the breeze. Alrik checked his surroundings once more then ducked inside the temple.
His lip curled. The one-story temple was anything but. Magic reeked in the place. The rocky structure was a hoax, a glamour created by the seer. Inside, the room traveled back for some distance, something not possible judging from the outside of the temple. The floor and walls were made of flat, sanded-down stone, torches burned brightly to chase back the shadows filling the room with the scent of burning wood and smoke.
Alrik gripped his bloodied sword then made his way down the long hall off the back of empty room. The tunnel went on for some distance with no end in sight. No light lit the way and there was no light at the end of the tunnel. He hated these games but it looked like he’d have to play them. He hadn’t come this far not to get the answers he sought.
Stepping lightly he made his way down the blackened tunnel. He kept his ears alert, all of his senses ready. He didn’t make it far with is free hand tracing the left wall of the hall, when a voice came sounding from above, behind, and all around him.
The voice sounded chipper as if laughing. “Found me at last, have you, fallen king? Took long enough.”
Alrik’s lips peeled back. To the darkened tunnel he said, “Stop playing games with me seer. You’ll speak to me--”
“Or else what, fallen king? You’ll kill me too? As you did to that demon outside?”
“He was rummaging around your temple. I saved you from him.”
The voice came back, mocking with sarcasm. �
�Hardly necessary. No one gets in here unless I want them too.”
Alrik’s neck muscles spasmed at how tightly he clenched his shoulders but he resisted the urge to roll his head to ease it. “Then speak to me, old man.”
The voice, that of an old man scratchy with age and hoarse laughed again. The jolly sound only fueled Alrik’s anger.
“The fallen king is desperate, his heart filled with anger. I’ll tell you now that isn’t the answer.”
Alrik stopped his steps down the endless tunnel with no light in sight and spun his head around trying to track the seer’s voice. “I haven’t even asked a question yet, seer,” he spit out.
“Ah, but I know what you want to ask.”
“Then give me the answer!” Alrik shouted, his voice bouncing off the tunnel walls and echoing down the long corridor until he was surrounded by the shout until, after many seconds, the echo faded leaving him in heavy silence.
He heard a long sigh; it sounded laden with disappointment. “Very well,” the voice said.
The walls around him shimmered and bubbled like looking through the clear water of a waterfall as it fell to earth. Alrik turned right and saw the black tunnel wall dissipate completely to reveal a large room complete with a large fireplace burning brightly, a long wooden table covered in silver dishware and golden goblets, and large iron rods around the room holding thick waxy candles flickering light.
Before the fireplace sat an old man sitting on an deep orange rug woven with magical symbols and words. The wall disappeared completely and Alrik stepped into the room. The old seer sat with his ankles crossed and knees pointing out. His long dark hair was pulled high atop his head in a curl and he wore a blue and red robe that shimmered in the firelight.
Alrik started for the old seer.
The seer lifted his head from the floor then his eyes met Alrik. Alrik froze at the sight of those eyes. He’d never seen anything like it. Black eyes with a brilliant blue center. He’d seen many demons in his life of varying colored skin, hair, and eyes, but never anything like this. Though, the rest of the seer did look very human. Dark brown skin, dark hair, but those eyes. They were something different.
“So you’ve found me, fallen king Alrik.”
“Not easily.” Much blood had been shed and even more time spent trying to find the seer. The only one capable of helping him on his quest.
“Nothing worth doing is ever easy.”
“Spare me the proverbial talk, seer.”
The seer looked up towards the ceiling, his expression dreamy with thought. “I must correct myself. Nothing important worth doing is ever easy. Seeing as how much you need me and my guidance, and how important that will change things for you, I’d say it’s going to be very important for you.”
“Enough of the bullshit, seer. You know what I’m here to ask.”
The seer looked back at Alrik and smiled, his white teeth dazzling against his dark skin. “Shall you ask anyway? People like that. They don’t enjoy knowing that I already know what they’re going to ask. I believe it makes them feel more comfortable.”
“Where is my mother?”
The seer jumped up to a stand, surprising Alrik. The seer was guessed to be older than the kingdom of X itself and yet he looked no older than himself. Maybe he was part demon; they aged much slower than some species of earth. Still smiling, the seer walked to a cupboard hanging on the stone wall and grabbed something off the shelf. With a few more movements, the seer walked to the candle stand in the corner of the room, and with a smoke pressed between his lips, breathed deeply at the candle spark. The smoke’s end lit brightly as he inhaled.
“Smoke?” the seer asked without glancing at him.
“No,” Alrik answered, his patience waning fast. “Answer my question, seer.”
The seer pulled the smoke from between his lips and stared at the tip before turning back around and casually pulling from the smoking tip. The scent of burning herbs reached Alrik’s nostrils, the odor not unpleasant but close to it.
“You’re asking the wrong question, fallen king.”
Alrik squeezed his sword then deposited it back in the scabbard across his back. “Stop calling me that.”
The seer’s dark eyebrows flew up in surprise. Alrik wasn’t fooled. The seer wasn’t surprised by anything. “What, fallen king? You are fallen, aren’t you?”
Alrik’s blood pumped hard with the need to lash out. The need to tear across the small space and wrap his hand around the old seer’s throat and squeeze--squeeze until his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his wheezing breaths stopped. Instead, he released a strangled breath and bared his teeth.
“Where is my mother?”
“Ah, yes, the fallen queen,” the seer said, still smiling, still puffing away at his smoke. “That’s not the right question to ask. Try another, fallen king.”
“How can I find my mother?”
The seer rocked his head side to side as if contemplating.
“You are very close to death right now, I’d answer if I were you,” Alrik sneered.
The seer tossed his head back and laughed a hoarse, wheezing sound. When he looked back at Alrik, his grin was even broader, his dark eyes bright with amusement. “You can’t kill me, fallen king.”
“Want to bet on that, seer?”
The seer spread his arms out wide until his body formed a T. “You need me.”
Alrik looked away; it was either that or risk tearing apart the seer limb by limb. God, just the thought of it sent a rush of pleasure through him. The howl of his screams would fuel him better than any food, the sight of his spurting blood like a balm to his heart.
“Answer the question,” he said slowly, his eyes closing as he enjoyed the mental image of killing the seer with his bare hands.
Silence met him. Alrik pushed back the dark thoughts and opened his eyes to find the seer watching him, no longer smiling.
“How you can find her or where you can find her is not important and you already know the answer.”
“All that I know, seer, is that she’s in the rift.”
The seer shrugged a slender shoulder.
“I’m sure you know how big the rift is, seer.”
“She’s here. You’ll find her eventually. You already know that. You don’t need me for that.”
Alrik frowned. “Then why the fuck else am I here?”
Again, the seer smiled. “Because you don’t know how to kill her.”
Alrik’s body stilled, each muscle becoming tense. “I’ll slice her head off with my blade and if that doesn’t work, I’ll turn to magic as she has.”
The seer laughed then sat back down on the rug at the fire, his smoke leaving a trail of smoke behind him. “But you can’t kill her.”
“What do you mean I can’t kill her?” he asked slowly. That’s all he’d thought about, all he’d planned. For years he’d been searching for her, always either one step behind or completely off her trail through some treachery. He was done. This would end soon. He’d make sure of it.
The seer looked him up and down. “Your curse won’t let you. The queen isn’t stupid. When she cursed you, she made sure that if you ever learnt of her deceit, you couldn’t kill her, since surely, you’d want to.”
‘Want’ was such a lame word. He didn’t want to kill his mother, he needed to. He needed to as much as needed air to live.
“How do I break the curse upon me?”
“By killing her, of course.”
Alrik’s fists clenched until his blunt nails stabbed into his skin. He felt the skin give and blood bead. “But you said I can’t kill her.”
“No, you can’t.”
Alrik nearly saw red. “Then how do I kill her?”
“It’s not a how so much as who. See, you’re not asking the right questions.”
Alrik blinked, the only sign he gave to show the shock in his body. “Who can kill her?” The thought of anyone else ever delivering the killing blow to his mother had never, not ev
en once, crossed his mind.
The seer laughed and rubbed his hands together. “The most unlikely person, naturally. A woman, a human.”
Alrik took a hard step forward and pointed a threatening finger at the seer. “Stop messing with me, seer. A human, let alone a woman, could never kill my mother and well you know it.”
“But this human is a witch.” His eyes turned into a faraway look, unfocused and hazy. “Though there is a bit of a problem with that.”
As if this wasn’t a problem already. “And what’s that?”
The seer didn’t respond for several moments, his eyes lost in thought. Finally, the haze left him and he tossed the end of his smoke into the burning fire. “She hasn’t used her magic in a very long time. She shuns it.”
Alrik shook his head. “This is ridiculous. You mean to tell me that the only way to kill my mother and lift the curse from me is through a human witch who doesn’t even practice her skill.”
“Precisely!” the seer said merrily with a smile.
Alrik looked away, lost in his own thoughts. “You’re certain she is the one?”
“Oh yes.”
A human witch. If she could kill his mother then she must be very powerful indeed. The human aspect would be a downside. That’d mean he’d have to go to the surface to get her and she’d have a harder time adjusting to the environment in the rift. But it could work. However, the fact that she doesn’t practice her own magic would have to be remedied quickly. He needed her power at its fullest for when they reached the queen.
“What is her name?”
The seer’s lips lifted into another smile. “Abbigail Krenshaw.”
Alrik frowned. “That’s a strange name.”
“Maybe to her your name is strange.”
“Maybe so. How do I find her?”
The seer shrugged but a smart glimmer in his eyes said he did know. But he stayed silent.
God, the surface. He hadn’t been there...in ages. Since before the Great War and even then he preferred his richer, brighter homeland than the dull colors of the earthen-realm.
“Fine.” Alrik turned without a goodbye and headed back towards the entrance. He’d just stepped foot onto the dark path when the seer spoke.