I’ve been having more of them. Dreams…nightmares. All about Sailor, the hunter I loved whose life ended because I refused to fight by her side.
“You’re going to help me or else I’m going to make whatever’s left of your life, miserable.”
“How about, I tell you where you might be able to find him, and you set me free?”
“Not happening. I like this game… How about I shoot you again?”
“If you must,” Eugenie says with a shrug. “I’ve killed your kind, it’s only right that you kill mine… But if I go, so does everything I know.”
“Maybe,” I snarl as I raise my gun. “Good thing I’m well connected. You ready to die?”
“I suppose I am, hunter. Nice chatting with you… I do hope you find what you’re looking for.” Again, with the crappy parting words. It’s like a huge cosmic joke at my expense.
“Same.” I fire a single bullet from my Beretta and the bullet pierces into Eugenie’s forehead, instantly causing his body to release its hold on life. “I’m going to have a blast going through your stuff,” I say to the corpse, unmoved by what remains. Talking to him was a pain in the ass and I wasn’t getting anywhere. He was going to die with whatever he knew.
I sigh and tuck my gun back into hiding and then reach for my phone. “Hey…Roc?”
“Yeah? What’s up, bud?” Rocco…he’s one of the people I trust most. Excellent hunter and an even better friend. Knows his way around a textbook or one hundred, as well. He’s always waist deep in lore whether it’s from ancient mythos or more recent events. He’s a few notches away from being a human encyclopedia, but he’s the best resource I know. We bump heads a lot, and to be honest, things have been a bit shaky on my end. None of it is his doing though. I’m a jerk…and it doesn’t help that he still doesn’t know what really happened on our last case. Or about the book of spells I managed to pick up along the way. “You get him?”
“Yeah. I got him. He’s dead. Did the world a favor and sent him straight to Hell. How’s it with you? Got a moment? You busy? May need to rack your brain.”
“Just finished up the case in Nebraska. Haunted artifact—cursed, actually is the better term. A megaton of demonic energy was implanted into a ring.”
“Yeah, the one Sonya put you on,” I tease.
“No. I called her for this one.”
“Nice,” I muse after a quick chuckle.
“She’s good at what she does and she owed me a favor,” he responds, slightly annoyed.
“I have a feeling she would have helped you out just cause. You know…hunting in pairs and all that. Basic safety,” I say while gesturing to nothing in a sarcastic manner.
“Anyway…the ring’s been dealt with. We had to track it down through a bunch of people. It was somehow able to host hop, whether through means of its own or by circumstance. When we found it, it was on the ring finger of a little girl.”
“Damn. She didn’t…you know?”
“Kill anyone? No. But the look in her eyes, man. I think she would have, eventually. We found her on a swing set at a playground alone. Amber Alert and everything.”
“Well, that’s good that you guys handled it. Seriously, good job,” I say with a more serious tone, completely casting aside my desire to make a few quick jabs at Roc’s questionable thing going on with Sonya. It’s always bad news when the supernatural messes with children. It can damage them beyond belief and make things hard for them after it’s all said and done. It’s a lot to process. That poor girl’s going to need therapy.
“So, what did you want?”
“Eugenie brought up the name of another witch. Like, a mentor or something. He’s supposedly super powerful. Goes by the name of Cornelius Krowe. That sound familiar to you? I’m going to start searching Eugenie’s place and see what I can find, but I wanted to run the name by you, first. I’m led to believe he’s the type that wants to live forever, but he’s not a vampire, nor does he want to be. His power source is other humans. See how that can be a problem?”
“Yeah, I do, but I don’t know anything about him. I can try to look him up when I get back.”
“Please do, and I’ll do what I can on my end,” I affirm. “I’m sure Eugenie is hiding all kinds of secrets in here.”
“Keep me posted and stay safe.”
“Always. If I find something, you’ll be the first to know.”
I hang up on Roc and shove my phone back into my pocket. Now, to get busy.
Chapter 3: A Man of Many Faces
I start from where I am and work my way throughout his hideout; a small, rental home on the outskirts of town, virtually in the middle of nowhere. There’s a desk near me, and it’s the first spot I check. I squat down and riffle through the side drawers in descending order. The first one is filled with falsified documents, the second contains a multipocketed folder filled to the brim, and the third is literally what appears to be a sacred space reserved for a handgun. I dabble with the thought of perusing the files within the folder, but I instead go through the documents in the first drawer.
“Looks like Eugenie had plans to go international,” I murmur as I look over the files. There’s a passport claiming that he’s Tyler King, and another as Justin Lance. I remove some of the paperwork; birth certificates, social security cards, and a check book, only to find what I can assume to be a list of credit card numbers, names, pins, and more socials. Essentially, he has a whole drawer filled to the brim with credentials that aren’t his own. Eugenie was smart, but he wasn’t the hacker type. Most of the stuff here is either handwritten copies, or the original. It’s the type of information you’d be pressed to give at gunpoint or with some serious leverage, but I’m willing to wager it was easier to acquire for Eugenie. It was that powder of his that got him all of this. It wouldn’t be that much of a stretch for him to trance someone out on the stuff and make them give up whatever information he desired. In fact, that was how he made a living, as evidenced by the free consultation sign stacked against a wall. MLM’s, Ponzi Schemes, didn’t matter how he got it, as long as he got paid in the end. He found a way to dose people without them being completely aware of what was happening, it seems.
I move to the second drawer and see what I can find. There’s a few more documents, all separated by individual tabs assigned to their designated folders. Though most of it seems to be scam related, my eyes come across one in particular that sticks out from the rest. The tab that reads ‘Development.’ I reach into the folder and pull out a stack of papers about half an inch thick. The front page being a cover page with an obscure reference that I can’t make sense of. I thumb through the document, taking in what I can find, but from the quality of the ink and paper, it seems to be an outdated file. That, or maybe it was worn from frequent revisions and scratches throughout the document. There’s a brief saying what it is and I skim through it. Turns out it’s an old pitch for a collaboration. A sponsor, but it doesn’t seem like he was in it for money, but instead for power. If I had to make a guess, I’d say that his business partner wasn’t human, either, or at least, he dealt heavily with the supernatural. The idea that Eugenie was pitching was his powder in a project called operation Dreamscape, which makes sense given the properties of the drug. It’s unclear whether or not if the project went through, but in the blueprint section, there appears to be the exact same dispenser that he used, outlined with schematics and diagrams pinpointing points of interest on the device. The ingredients unfortunately, aren’t anywhere in sight within the document. He was smart to leave that part out. Seeing that Eugenie is the only one we know of who operates like this and the prototype is in my possession, I think it’s safe to say that things fell through…which is a good thing. A bunch of baddies with a drug for mind control would do a ton of damage to the outside world. Beyond petty crimes and horrible scenarios, making someone do whatever you wanted them to do could impact us all on a global level. I’m talking world leaders…politics. Maybe Eugenie saw all of this and realized you cou
ldn’t put a price on mass destruction. He seemed to be staying to himself these days. I thought the multiple safehouses Roc told me about were to help him hide from us, but maybe he had made enemies after sharing what he knew with the wrong crowd.
Damn. I let him get to me.
If I would have kept him alive a bit longer, I wouldn’t have to speculate and could go right to the source.
I look over my shoulder and steal a glance at his corpse before shaking my head.
I definitely made this harder on myself.
I pull out my phone and snap every page of the document before forwarding it to Roc. We already have dirt on Eugenie, but nothing like this. A secret collaboration hidden in the woodworks is just juicy enough to get Roc’s attention. He’ll be quick to dig up whatever he can find, I’m sure, and we’ll address it when the time comes. Right now, I have more pressing matters to attend to, like seeing what I can get on Krowe and making it out of here without causing a scene.
My phone pulses in my pocket and I take it out to see Roc’s response; a simple thumb’s up and a reminder to get physicals of the important stuff. Standard procedure.
Good.
Before I put my phone away, I go back through the contents of the first drawer and take a couple of pictures of his false identities so Roc can run through his algorithm when he has the chance. I figure, I’ll do what I can too, providing nothing else in this dump holds its weight, intel wise. My phone rumbles again after I send them over. I’m sure it’s just Roc confirming with me that he got the second string of images.
I move from the makeshift workshop and move towards the other areas of the establishment. A small kitchen, a general area, a bathroom. Nothing strikes out that requires further investigation. In the same hall as the bathroom, I progress quietly, trying to be cognizant of any murmurs or signs of distress. Eugenie was a psycho whose tactics involved manipulating a person’s will to obtain whatever he wanted. He could have been holding people hostage to test new iterations of his powder.
With my gun leading the way, I open the first door in the hallway. Thankfully, it’s nothing but storage for food supplies and toiletries. I open the next door in the same fashion and it’s a guest room. Nothing’s there but old boxes; more storage. I flick on the light to the room and step deeper into the cluttered space, my sights now focused on the closet on the opposite side of the room. I open it with the utmost caution, but it’s more of the same. Junk. Judging from what’s poking out from the boxes, it’s clothes and kitchenware, none of which seem to have been used recently. The same applies to the boxes in the actual room, except it’s less kitchenware and more along the lines of small decorations and pieces you’d use to furnish a home. I peek into one of the boxes near the closet and find a stuffed animal. Even with the dust graying its fur, the pink puppy’s coat still manages to offset the drab colors of the room. It’s a toddler’s toy. Of course. I guess acquiring a secluded property is easy as hell when you can coax the owners into taking whatever deal you throw at them. With all that dirty money he had at his disposal, I’m sure he gave them a decent offer to ease their speculation.
Damn. I wonder how many of these he actually has?
I don’t think there’s a lab here. I didn’t see anything worth mentioning in the kitchen, and I doubt he’s making the powder in his bedroom. With the list of questions fresh in my mind, I shoot off another text to Roc asking if he can cross reference properties tied to any one of Eugenie’s aliases. The same for his victims. I try to be brief but explain to him the possible housing situation that Eugenie had going for him.
He responds almost immediately, and I’m back on the grind.
I search through the remainder of the rooms but find no signs of distress or recent life. It’s almost like he didn’t touch any of the other rooms except for his quarters, which I’m assuming I’m in, now. It has to be. It’s one of the few spots in this house that actually seems to have a pulse.
There’s an unmade bed with a laptop, a pair of dirty clothes on the floor, and a few of his drawers left half-open. There’s also a small desk with a flat, black rectangular object with a USB cord draping lazily over the edge; an external hard drive. Perfect. The laptop and the drive’ll come in handy later on…better me than the authorities getting their hands on it when they eventually show once they realize that something’s awry.
After I stash the drive in my jacket, I make my way through his stuff, careful not to spring any traps he might have set up in his room.
Before I broke into this joint, I was sure to nullify the sigils I found at the back of the house, but they only protect against supernatural forces. I suspected things like a motion sensor, cameras, a trap door…anything to help him get the upper hand in an attack, but I guess the shotgun taped to the underside of a work desk was his idea of protection against everyone else; that and the handgun resting on the nightstand beside his bed. And from what I’ve seen of his place so far, it looks like I was wrong. No monitors or anything for outside activity.
Turns out the late Eugenie had gotten cocky. And who would blame him? He’d been at it for a while, and everyone who crossed his path never lived another day. That’s how he remained hidden for so long. He’s killed hunters, no doubt. Dozens of them. Roc and I aren’t the only ones who go around serving good ole’ fashion vigilante justice. Hunters are all over the globe.
I’m just glad that I was the one who put him under. I hope he’s having the absolute worst time in the afterlife. As connected as he may be, demons aren’t exactly known to honor their deals. If anything, Eugeine’ll just be getting what’s owed to him. He made life a living hell for virtually everyone who crossed paths with his with no remorse. I honestly should have tortured him just to give him a taste of what it feels like to be at someone else’s mercy.
If I knew his information would be this easy to access, things definitely would have gone another way.
I leave the gun on his nightstand where it’s at but open the drawer beneath it. Nothing stands out except a nickel bag of cocaine and a vial of pink powder that matches the party drug’s consistency, both poorly hidden and in virtually plain sight. I snatch the vial of Dreamscape and leave the coke for whomever. I run my fingers along the insides of the rest of the drawers in his room, pushing past and lifting his clothes to see what my fingers find. Luck turns my way when my fingers bump into a key in his sock drawer. In hindsight, I should have been more careful given that I now know how Eugenie passes the time. It would have truly sucked if I had gotten nicked by a dirty needle or one of those little razor blades some drug users carry.
I grip the key in my hands and study the copper piece. If there’s a key here, there’s a chance that it’s for something on the property. I make my way to the closet in the master bedroom and search for it there, rummaging through whatever I can find until I can see bare wall, but there’s nothing. I tap along the interior walls of the closet and rest of the room to see if there’s a hollow spot, but that doesn’t work out either.
With Eugenie’s key in hand, I double-back to the other areas of the house I already searched; the bathrooms, auxiliary rooms, closets, anything that I can think of that might have the capacity to hide hidden goods.
I even remove a crappy portrait in the central hallway I spot. If it was in fact hiding a stash of some sort, it’d at least fit the motif of being unassuming to blend in. Unfortunately, it was just plain ugly. The only thing behind it was bare wall.
Frustrated, I return back to where I killed Eugenie. Every time I passed him up, I was sure to check if he moved or something. Witches like him had a habit for that sort of thing. It technically shouldn’t be possible with my bullets, but you never know what type of tricks are up their sleeves, especially the ones who dabbled in magic to extend their shelf life. He’s one of the few that actually put me on edge. He almost went down too easily considering what he’s been known to do.
“If I were a lunatic, where would I hide my most valuable stuff?” I ask myself with
folded arms while staring at the dead witch. The best place to hide something is often in plain sight, at least, that’s what the age-old adage suggests. “Come on, Blaze. Think,” I mumble while I pace back and forth while my mind runs up the walls. I wonder how this bastard could have even slept at night knowing the shit he’s done. It takes a true monster to live like that.
Wait…no way.
My pacing stops and my anger dissipates from my body even though the sight of Eugenie still makes my stomach do flips.
Crap. I can’t believe that I was so oblivious. It was right there the whole time.
I make a break for Eugenie’s bedroom and shift his bedframe away from his bed, leaving the wall his headboard rested against exposed. I feel around for a hallow space in the wall but there’s nothing except for a sizeable seal for protection.
The bitter sting of disappointment clouds my heart, but I know that I was on to something. Eugenie, while he was cocky, he was smart. The handgun and the powder near his bed was an extra safety precaution. Even without his powder, his magic could have made quick work for the average threat. Whatever secrets he had, he knew that he was the best person for the job…the only person he could truly rely on. If he slept near his safe, he’d be the last line of defense. His bedroom has no windows and only one entrance; one that if he had to aim a bullet into the hallway, it’d be a clear shot. I place my hands onto my hips and stare at the disheveled makings of a room and sigh. My eyes then drift towards my feet.
Carpet. I scoff as I look at the fabric. Why not?
Sticking with my hunch, I slide the bed over some more, revealing more of the turquoise flooring, and that’s when I see it. An outlined rectangle cut from the carpet and replaced. From what I can tell, it’s no bigger than a shoe box. Probably just as deep too, not that it matters. With the inventions of flash drives, the possibilities are endless.
I dig my fingers into the parted space made by the cutout and flip open the carpeted door. Immediately on the other side is a gunmetal-gray box decorated with a seal similar to the others I found outside, making it off-limits to the supernatural. Thankfully, that isn’t my problem, but I can’t help but wonder if Eugenie was running from someone else… Or maybe something else.
Blaze Monroe and the Tattered Heart: A Supernatural Thriller (The Hunter Who Lost His Way Book 3) Page 2