by C. J. Pinard
Sheena walked in, in her human form, naked. Joshua’s mouth dropped open and he suddenly forgot about his aching face. Darius raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Sheena spied the empty Plexiglas box, and placing her hands on her shapely bare hips, simply said, “Oh, crap.”
∞∞∞
Lillian and Malina were in the apartment playing Texas Hold ‘Em when the doorbell rang.
Lillian picked up her gun off the table and walked cautiously to the door. She peered through the peephole, but before her mind could work out that it was two vampires standing on the other side, the doorknob was blasted off and the door was kicked in by Pascal. Lillian was thrown across the room and landed on her back. Angel was wearing some kind of large, smoking gun attached to a shoulder strap that was swinging off her arm, and was pointing it at Malina. She shrunk back in fear and turned to run, but Pascal was too quick; he snatched Malina up and threw two pairs of handcuffs at Angel.
“It’s okay, Pascal, I have my own,” she smirked, holding a pair she had pulled from the back of her pants and that were now swinging from her pinky finger. Laughing, she quickly cuffed Malina’s and Lillian’s hands to the front of their bodies.
Pascal snorted, perversely amused. Angel walked over and kissed him, rough and with lots of tongue. He wiped her red lipstick off his mouth with the back of his hand, never breaking eye contact with her. He then dragged his gaze away from Angel and glaring at Malina, said, “Sylph, open a portal. Now.”
At first she tried to refuse, but Angel had Lillian by her red locks and had another handgun pointed at her face. It wasn’t likely that Lillian would die from a gunshot to the face, but it was fair to say it wouldn’t be pleasant – or pretty.
“Where shall the portal end up? I… I need to know before I can open it,” Malina stammered.
“How about your place? It’ll be nice and quiet so we can work,” Pascal said, grinning evilly.
Malina cringed inwardly at the thought of having disgusting vampires in her home, but knew she wouldn’t win this battle. She pulled both cuffed hands into the air and called a portal using an awkward wave. The air shimmered as if a sheet of smog had appeared in their living room, and all four of them stepped through the portal.
∞∞∞
San Francisco – 1947
Joseph went back to his desk and threw his cap down on it. He sat in the clunky metal chair and slunk down in his seat. His disappointment was undeniable. He sat and stared at the desk, convinced he was never going to solve the mystery of his missing son. His chest physically hurt at the loss. If he were truthful, his whole body ached.
“Psst!”
He looked up to see Richard peeking his head around the corner of the hallway that led to the detectives’ offices. Richard motioned with his head for Joseph to follow.
He got up and dragged himself toward Richard. “What do you want, Johnson?”
“Come to my desk, I need to show you something,” Richard answered.
Spread out on Richard’s desk were black-and-white photographs of the alley from where young Thomas had disappeared. Richard pointed to one of the pictures.
“Look.” He tapped the photograph with one yellowed fingernail. A cigarette was smoldering in his other hand.
“What am I looking at? I’ve already seen these photos, Johnson. There’s nothing there.”
“These aren’t the crime scene photos, O’Malley. These were taken last week. Check out the shadows under the street lamp,” he replied.
Joseph picked up one of the eight-by-ten photos and squinted closely at it. The photos were laid out in chronological order. Joseph studied all the photos very carefully, picking each one up and holding it close to his face.
“Criminey!” he blurted out when he finally saw it.
“Be quiet!” Richard said, looking around nervously. “I’m not supposed to have these pictures, man.”
In the first photo, he could make out the shape of a tall, thin man standing in the shadows. The next few photos show the man to be looking around suspiciously, and then in the few after that, he appears to hunch down on all fours. In the last photograph, a large dog or perhaps a wolf was standing in his place. The man was nowhere to be seen.
“What the sam-hell is this? Did this wolf eat the man and the photographer missed it?” Joseph asked, scratching at the remaining hairs on the top of his head.
Richard shook his head. “O’Malley, about six months ago, we had some Feds in here investigating a few mob disappearances. I overheard them talkin’ about some secret government organization that investigates the ‘strange and unusual’.”
“What? Like aliens and the like? You’re yankin’ my chain, Johnson,” Joseph said, laughing for the first time in many months.
“I ain’t jokin’! Where do you think I got these pictures at? The cat who develops the crime scene photos owed me a favor and made me copies. The Fed cops said the guy in these photos is some kind of wolf-beast. He can change from human to wolf whenever he damn well pleases!”
Joseph laughed again. “Johnson, you need to back off the whiskey, man. Or at least tell me what’s in those pills you take!” He walked off, shaking his head, smiling ruefully.
∞∞∞
Thomas and Jonathan were in the boxing ring, on round five inside the gym. Both were only in gym shorts and sweat was dripping down their faces, necks, and chests.
“You hit like a girl,” Jonathan teased.
Thomas bobbed around a bit, then attempted an upper-cut to Jonathan’s face, but Jonathan easily snaked left and Thomas missed.
“Pussy,” Thomas said.
“Oh, such language from the good little bike messenger,” Jonathan laughed, bouncing on his feet rolling his gloved hands menacingly.
Thomas’s blood was boiling. He hated being teased, so he decided to use his newfound skill. While Jonathan was still laughing, Thomas flashed behind him and punched him in the right kidney.
“Who’s the girl now, Johnny?” he snorted.
Jonathan was now on all fours, head down, panting in pain. “Good hit, kid,” he wheezed. Sweat dribbled off his head and splashed to the floor of the ring.
Thomas reached a gloved hand out to help him up. “Was that cheating?”
“Nah. You have gifts, use them. Vamps and shifters have no scruples, and will not hesitate to use their own powers against us,” he finished, pulling his gloves off and tossing them onto the ring floor.
Jonathan grabbed a small towel that was draped over one of the cords surrounding the boxing ring and wiped his face and head with it. He then hopped down off of the ring’s platform, limping over to the doors leading to the locker rooms. He was holding his back. He turned around before entering and said, “Tomorrow, we learn how to shoot. And I don’t mean baskets, kid.” He wadded up the towel into a ball and threw it basketball-style into a waiting bin next to the door, then disappeared into the locker room.
Thomas mumbled, “Yippee!” under his breath sarcastically as he followed Jonathan into the locker room, and mimicking the towel throw, he missed.
Chapter 7
∞∞∞
Portland, Oregon – Present Day
Thomas was the first to exit the car with a half-dead Serina in his arms. The shapeshifters had not taken care of her at all in the few days they had kept her prisoner. No food or water, no basic personal hygiene needs met. She was never even let out of the box. Plus, she was worn out from trying to call portals inside her Plexiglas prison. All the magic she could muster had been drained out of her. She lay limp in Thomas’s arms as he flashed up the stairs to the top floor apartment of the Murphy Architecture office building. The elevator would have taken too long. He wanted to get her to Malina as soon as possible for help. She would know how to treat a sick sylph.
Thomas stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the door to the apartment… or what was left of the door. It was hanging on one hinge and the doorknob had been completely obliterated. All the lights in the apa
rtment were still on. A deck of playing cards lay on the dining room table and two cups of tea, still steaming, sat next to the cards. Lillian’s purse was at the foot of one of the dining room chairs.
He awkwardly stretched his arm under a limp Serina, and reached around to the gun attached to his hip. He gingerly walked inside, gun drawn, and pointed it inside the apartment, sweeping it from side to side. He carefully set Serina on the closest couch and she moaned as he did. He then heard a noise behind him and whirled around and aimed the gun on a figure standing in the doorway.
“What in the hell happened here?” Jonathan roared. “And get that gun off me!”
“Sorry, boss. I just walked in and saw this,” he replied. He kept his gun out and continued to walk around the apartment. “Malina? Lilly? Anyone here?” he called out.
“Oh, my God! What happened?” Kathryn surveyed the damage, panic and concern a mask across her face as she walked in and dropped her shiny handbag to the ground.
“I don’t know. Where are Lilly and Malina?” Jonathan asked as he followed Thomas around the apartment, checking rooms.
Kathryn walked cautiously to a kitchen cabinet and snatched a glass and filled it with water from the tap. She then grabbed the first-aid kit from under the kitchen sink. She took the items to Serina.
She attempted to rouse the drowsy sylph. “Serina, honey, can you wake up? I have some water here. You need to drink it.”
Serina groaned and opened her eyes and blinked. Those familiar lightning flashes were bouncing around in her eyes. “Where am I?” she asked tiredly.
“You’re safe, for now. We got you out of that filthy warehouse and away from those shifters. But we need to move you again, we can’t stay here. Please, drink this while I get you something to eat,” Kathryn finished. She handed the glass to Serina, then got up and walked back into the kitchen and picked a banana from the fruit basket.
It was not the first time Kathryn had dealt with a sick sylph. In 1958, when she, Thomas, and Jonathan were meeting with the sylphs for their bi-decade dose of Enchantment, they had agreed to meet at a warehouse down by Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. A lot of new factories had been built recently and the delivery sylph, Zoe, had arrived about an hour prior to the agreed-upon meeting time. She was enjoying the quiet when she started to feel ill. By the time the Immortals arrived, Zoe was dizzy and nauseated and on the verge of passing out. They figured it must have been carbon monoxide from one of the machines in the factory. Jonathan explained to Kat that sylphs are not unlike humans when they’re sick; they just need rest, fluids, food, and TLC. They moved Zoe to Jonathan’s Hyde Street apartment and spent several hours nursing her back to health. She was very grateful for the care they had taken and gave them the Enchantment from her purse once she was feeling better, then was on her way. Sylphs are fast healers, like Immortals and the rest of the Fae. That caused the sylphs to insist on remote, clean locations for Enchantment delivery. Kathryn smiled at the memory.
“They’re not here. Nothing appears to be missing, either. I don’t see any blood or anything. Aside from the obvious damage to the door, it appears they went willingly,” Thomas finished, re-holstering his weapon.
Jonathan sat on a nearby chair and put his head in his hands. “They didn’t go willingly, Tom, they just went without a fight, there’s a difference. Whoever took them obviously had a weapon. Look what they did to my damn door.” He gestured toward the front of the apartment.
Thomas went to the fridge and pulled some water out, offering one to Kathryn. “We need to figure out who took them, and why,” he commented.
“Yes, we do.” Jonathan commented. “But first, I need a drink.”
∞∞∞
“Sit down, Sylph.” Pascal gestured with his gun to a nearby sofa. It was pristinely white with a crocheted purple throw blanket on it.
She did as she was told. The tears that had been threatening to spill from her eyes now released themselves in streams down her face. With the gun still trained on her, Angel uncuffed one of her hands from in front of her, and then re-cuffed it behind her back.
“Ouch!” she said, glaring at Angel.
“Oh, sorry, Tinker Bell. Did that hurt?” she laughed.
“These restraints are too tight. Please loosen them,” Malina demanded.
Pascal laughed. “Why? So you can call another portal and go back to your pussy Immortals? I don’t think so.”
“What do you want, leech?” Lillian asked, glaring at Pascal. She wiped an unruly string of hair from her brow with both cuffed hands.
“What do you think we want? Enchantment, of course,” Pascal finished, his features serious. He then paused and cocked his head at her, brows furrowed. “Wait a minute, you were in my club earlier, talking to Joshua. You’re an Immortal? I’ve got to replace my doormen. Bloody clueless humans,” he mumbled, shaking his head.
The room went silent for a few minutes, nobody talking. Finally Angel piped up. “Look, if you don’t give it to us, we’ll drain you both. My mouth has been watering for some sylph blood all night. I’ve heard it’s delicious and satisfying.” A perverted grin twisted on her beautiful red lips.
“I don’t keep it in my house. It is manufactured elsewhere,” Malina commented.
“Oh, what a load of bollocks!” Pascal yelled, spitting.
Malina cringed at the vampire spittle on her immaculately clean carpet. It was red-tinged.
“What do you want it for? It isn’t going to do anything for you, you’re already immortal, Pascal,” Lillian said.
“That is none of your concern, Red. It’s nothing you would understand.” He then turned his attention to Angel. “Follow me,” he said to his lover.
They turned around and walked into one of the back bedrooms.
Lillian craned her neck to peer down the hallway at Pascal and Angel. “Call a portal, now!” she whispered to Malina.
“I can’t without the use of my hands!”
“Damn. Can you reach my cell phone? It’s in my back pocket.” Lillian turned her body around so her backside was facing Malina. Malina in turn shifted her body so she could try to pluck the phone out of Lillian’s very tight pants. They were quite the sight, back to back, Malina groping around Lillian’s butt.
“I got it!” Malina dropped it onto the sofa.
Lillian snatched it up and sat on the sofa and typed a text to Jonathan:
At Malina’s home in wetlands. Kidnapped by Pascal and Angel. Plz hurry.
She was just about to hit “send” but she heard voices coming back down the hallway. She shoved it under her thigh and waited for a miracle.
∞∞∞
San Francisco – 1947
The fog was thick and annoying. Joseph and Richard were sitting in an old police car on a stakeout. Joseph had just been made detective and was on his first stakeout. He had, naturally, been partnered with Johnson. They had a lead on an illegal shipment of bourbon that was coming in by ship on Pier 37. Prohibition had ended fourteen years prior, and the government wasted no time placing strict fines and restrictions on booze. In this case, an unregistered shipment of any sort of alcohol coming in during the middle of the night was definitely suspect. Joseph was excited to possibly be making his first arrest as detective.
Richard was smoking like a chimney and they were bored to tears, sitting on the pier for hours.
“O’Malley, how are you doing?” Richard asked, tapping an ash outside the open window.
Joseph shook his head. “I don’t know how you want me to answer that, man. It’s been tough, I’m not going to lie to ya,” he answered.
“Any leads at all? Did you check out that Jonathan Murphy cat, try to figure out the huge gap in time?”
“I really can’t figure it out, Johnson. It doesn’t make sense. I’ve used every ounce of my spare time to check him out, to check out photos, I’ve visited the crime scene a million times. I got nothin’,” he finished.
Richard crushed out his cigarette then flicked
it away, and chose his next words carefully. “I know you think I’m crazy, but I believe those Feds, O’Malley. I think there are things of this world we ain’t never supposed to know about. I think these strange creatures are responsible for all the bizarre events and missing persons cases we can’t solve. And all those murders? Those cannot all be mob killings. Don’t the mob usually hide bodies?”
“I don’t know,” Joseph replied.
“Do you know what came across my desk last week? A body found down by the wharf. It was drained of blood. M.E. doc said not a drop left in his body. What kind of shit is that?” Johnson tapped his fingers nervously on the steering wheel.
Joseph looked curiously at him. “Any stab or gunshot wounds on the body? Maybe it drained out.”
“Nah, man, nothing like that. No injuries, just a couple of holes in his jugular,” he said, lighting another cigarette.
Joseph said nothing. He just looked straight ahead, confused but unconvinced.
“Hey, O’Malley, check it out.” Richard pointed the smoky cigarette at the water.
Sure enough, a small fishing boat could be seen through the fog, approach the pier. Two males jumped out into the shallow water and anchored the boat to the pier, looking around nervously. They then began to offload crates from the boat. When the boat was unloaded, a truck pulled up.
“Hey, get the license plate of that truck,” Richard ordered.
“I can’t see that far. I’m old!” Joseph replied.
“Oh, for hell’s sake,” Richard said, exiting the old police cruiser.
Richard ran, limping while bent over, and hid behind a pile of pallets on the dock. He pulled out a pen and notepad from his pocket and wrote down the license plate number. He was sneaking back on his way to the police car when a tall, thin man with a scruffy beard seemed to appear out of nowhere and yanked him by the back of his jacket. Richard attempted to whirl around and punch the assailant but the tall man quickly backhanded Richard and sent him flying to the ground, unconscious. The hit was not only vicious, but oddly powerful.