by K. R. Rowe
BLOOD OF THE SIXTH
By K. R. Rowe
Copyright ©2016 K. R. Rowe
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photo copying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without author’s permission.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1……………………………..Rats
Chapter 2……..………………. The Run
Chapter 3………..…….. Dead Center
Chapter 4………..…………. Kill Room
Chapter 5……………………… Witness
Chapter 6….. Drunk in the Hallway
Chapter 7…….………………… Believe
Chapter 8………………… Last Smoke
Chapter 9………………. First Contact
Chapter 10……………………… Coffee
Chapter 11…………………… The Box
Chapter 12…………………… Hospital
Chapter 13…………………. Neighbor
Chapter 14…………….. Morning Joe
Chapter 15…………… Local Legends
Chapter 16………………………….. Zoe
Chapter 17…………………… Answers
Chapter 18…………… Good and Evil
Chapter 19…………………. Delusions
Chapter 20………………… Better Off
Chapter 21……………. Hollowpoint
Chapter 22………………… The Stray
Chapter 23…………………… Be Safe
Chapter 24……………………. Rookie
Chapter 25………… Brown Demon
Chapter 26…………………….. Griggs
Chapter 27…………………….. Ritual
Chapter 28…………………… Flowers
END
Chapter 1
Rats
Year 1925—Port Bella Rosa, Louisiana. A wavering glow crawled between his eyelids, forcing them open. Above him, a soot blackened lantern swung in slow circles. Weak veins of light pulsed across the ceiling, doing little to scatter the room’s encroaching darkness. The shadows terrified him; those menacing black specters lurking just beyond the light. A blurred but familiar face swam in Noah’s peripheral vision. The old lady came into focus, but hatred contorted her features into someone he barely recognized. He yanked at the ropes securing him to the table but only managed to dig the twisted knots deeper into his bloodied wrists.
“I warned you,” she hissed.
Memories began to surface in his groggy, scattered thoughts. “Mrs. Hoffius, please, I never meant any harm.”
Turning her back, the old woman ignored him. She stoked the fire in the wood stove and flipped a slab of meat sizzling in a hot cast iron skillet. Noah slid his tongue over a split in his lip, gagging on the sharp bloody taste oozing from the bloated gash.
“I love her, she loves me. I can take care of her.” He lifted his head from the table, trying to reason with her, but a scorching pain ripped through his skull and tore down his neck, settling in his abdomen. “Oh God.”
The old woman sneered. “There is no God.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“You ignored my warning, boy. You’re not fit for my Isabella.”
Smoldering meat thickened the air, its scent almost too dense to breathe, but Noah sucked in deep gulps and stared at the flesh carved away from his chest. His stomach churned, but he wasn’t sure if it was the sight of his mutilated torso or the large section of his intestines protruding from a jagged hole in his abdomen; their bloody mass piled on his pelvis, spilling in thick glistening ropes over the table’s edge. His body spasmed, vomit and blood spewing in a burning stream from his mouth. Acrid smoke curled into his nose but he choked from the stench of his own suffocating terror.
“Christ! You’re eating me!” Unconsciousness threatened to take him. Cold sweat beaded on his pale bloodless skin. Struggling to stay alert, each lung-filling breath twisted his body with waves of pain.
The old woman laughed.
“No, boy. This is my dinner.” She crammed a slimy pork skin between her gums and nodded over her shoulder. He followed her gaze to a line of rat-filled cages pushed against the far wall. “You belong to them.”
Chapter 2
The Run
Present Day—Port Bella Rosa, Louisiana. The chilled night air seared the young man’s lungs, each breath coming in hard deep gulps. The unforgiving pavement slowed his pace but he hoped to catch his second wind and make it home before 4:00 am. Tim preferred an early morning run; not a soul on the street, no one to slow him down.
Just silence and solitude.
Leaving the blacktop, he turned onto a narrow cobblestone street. The dark zone, they called it, and for good reason. Streetlamps haunted the roadway’s edge; their corpses rusting, bulbs long dead and coated with a thick layer of grime. Beneath the buildings, the sidewalks vanished; the structures devouring moonlight, sucking light from the streets. Tim glanced up at the windows as he ran. Like the eyes of vultures, their black empty sockets seemed to scour the narrow passage below. An unexplained shiver crept down his back and he picked up his pace.
Mist crept from the sewers, rolling across the cool damp stones and swirling away from his feet. An eerie stillness weighted the air, lifted only by the crack of his steady footfalls. Needing a break, he slowed for a moment and stopped. He leaned forward, rubbing the irritating cramp in his side and filling his lungs with night air. Expecting a refreshing breath, he choked instead.
“What the hell?”
The air thickened with the scent of dust, but the clear night sky held no hint of debris. He took a few whiffs, attempting to identify the odor. The smell was distinct, not sharp or pungent, containing something more than dust: a bouquet of death—old death. Tim coughed, trying to clear the stench from his throat but the odor only intensified.
Scanning the area, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, but a weird sound drifted on the wind. It started faint, but grew into a muted grinding—like stone against stone. Taking a few more seconds to rest, he decided to get moving.
The street pulsed and shifted beneath his feet, sucking the soles of his shoes to the roadway. Shadows came alive with motion, swarming over the rough cobbled surface. He pulled his feet from the stones and took a quick step back but the shadows followed, dark tendrils pouring across his shoes, circling his ankles. He shook his legs, swiping his hands across the dark swirling patches, but they clung to his skin, crawling further up. They traversed his torso, their weight overwhelming, pulling his body to the street, immobilizing him.
Darkness crawled around his pupils, clouding his vision. A cold sensation poured down his throat, filling it, sealing his breath in his chest. His silent screams died in his lungs but the sound of his cracking skull exploded in his ears. The grinding grew faint; the wind snatching the sound into the vanishing moonlight. The scent of old dust faded with his life, leaving the stench of fresh death.
Chapter 3
Dead Center
The drab morning mist caught fire with sunlight. Reflections of the budding day skipped across shattered windowpanes, burning her tired aching eyes. Squinting, Allie crammed a hunk of chocolate cake into her mouth. Breakfast was her favorite meal of the day and she didn’t want to waste a crumb of it. Easing out of her apartment building, she glanced down at her feet before tiptoeing across the sidewalk.
Shit!
Her
shoes didn’t match—again. Trying to be stealthy, she crept to the end of her building and hid behind a nearby lamppost. Always too curious for her own good, and being new to the neighborhood, she really wanted to know what was going on. This sort of commotion freaked her out. Peeking around the cast iron post, she watched a police officer squat over a corpse—or what remained of one. Catching sight of a glob of mutilated tissue, her stomach threatened to unload her breakfast.
“It looks like the skin’s been shrink-wrapped onto the cobblestones,” she heard a young officer say. “Like he was sucked to the street.” He pulled his collar up over his nose and coughed. “Has anyone ever seen anything like this?”
Allie swallowed another urge to gag.
“Look.” An older detective lifted a slab of skin with the edge of his knife. He shook his head, staring at the mess on the roadway. “The contents of the bowels are still here.”
The younger man shook his head. “They left just the skin and clothing. Who the hell could have done this?”
The detective looked up, “Who—or what?”
“I think I’m gonna puke.” The younger man turned away to gain his composure but instead spotted Allie. “Miss, you can’t be here.”
She straightened, standing stiff behind the post, trying to hide, but he’d already seen her.
“Miss, you’ll have to clear the area.”
She peeked out from hiding. “But I live here.”
“Where?” he asked, heading toward her.
She pointed to a third floor window just above them. “Up there.”
Instead of looking up, he stared down at her feet. “Ma’am, your, umm.” He pointed toward her shoes, as if forgetting everything around him.
“I know,” Allie cleared her throat, pulling his attention away from her mismatched shoes. “I got dressed in the dark.”
“Oh,” he said, looking up. “Were you home early this morning?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you hear or see anything unusual?”
Scouring her memory, she tried to recall if she’d gotten up in the night, or if she’d heard anything. She shook her head. “No, nothing. My air conditioner makes so much noise anyway—what happened? Did someone get hit by a car?”
“No, ma’am—”
Allie stared at him, unable to take her eyes from his clothing, everything perfect and in order: his tie, shoes, his crisp white shirt. She had no doubt that he probably pulled his socks to the exact same height and starched his underwear every night.
Or maybe he goes commando.
He fidgeted, clearing his throat, and she realized she was staring at his crotch. When she looked up, a nervous smile split his lips and his warm brown eyes locked with hers.
He was gorgeous.
“You have something on your face,” he said, motioning toward her cheek. “Just a little something … there.”
She wiped her face with her sleeve. “Oh, it’s chocolate.” God I’m such a pig.
He chuckled. “Chocolate for breakfast?”
Before she could explain, a yell split the murmurs of the curious onlookers. “Allie!”
They peeled their gaze off one another and looked up. From a distance, her friend broke through a gathering crowd.
Allie waved. “Zoe!”
When her friend made it to them, she was out of breath. “What the hell happened? I was scared shitless when I saw all the police cars.”
The young man broke in, his serious demeanor returning. “Ma’am, you ladies can’t be here.”
“Who are you?” Zoe asked. “And what’s going on?”
“I’m officer Chambers—Phillip Chambers. We’re conducting an investigation into—”
“A murder?”
Zoe loved murders and mysteries, and Allie knew she’d be all over this, but the detective didn’t answer. Instead, he took in her appearance: hair short, cropped at chin length and dyed jet black; dark clothing and boots, giving her a gothic and sinister look. To someone who didn’t know Zoe, they might mistake her for a devil worshipper, but Allie knew that was far from the truth.
Phillip’s face took on a curious expression. “Ma’am, where were you last night?”
Zoe scowled. “At home with my parents. Why? Do you think I did it?”
“No ma’am,” he said, his grin softening his expression. “Just thought you might have heard something, but at this point, we’re considering this a death investigation. The cause is still unknown.” He took a notepad from his pocket, scribbled down his number and passed it to Allie. “An officer will be up to speak with you soon. In the meantime, if you hear anything or know of anyone who did, give me a call and I’ll pass the information on to the detective heading the investigation.”
“Thanks,” Allie said, smiling up at him. “I will.”
The young officer turned and made his way back to the scene. When he was out of hearing range, Zoe blew out a long low whistle. “Too serious,” she said. “But nice ass.”
“Zoe!”
“What?”
“There’s a dead body less than twenty feet away and you’re eyeballing a policeman’s ass.”
“So? I’m not the one dead, and besides, you got his phone number.”
Allie looked down at the paper and winked. “Yes I did.”
Zoe glanced around as they started back toward Allie’s building. “Did someone put in a new lamppost?”
Allie shrugged. “Looks like it, but I haven’t seen any city workers out here.”
“It just seems like they’ve done some work. It’s nice.”
“I just hope my rent don’t go up.”
“You could always come and stay with me. Mom said it’s okay.”
Allie smiled at the offer. They were best friends, she’d known Zoe since high school, and her family was like the one she never had, the one she’d always dreamed of, but she couldn’t impose.
“You know I have to make it on my own, and besides, I have protection.”
“I know. But when I get a job, we’re getting an apartment together and you can move out of this shithole.”
“When are you getting a job?”
Zoe shrugged. “Sooner or later.”
They trudged up three flights of stairs and opened the door to a long narrow hallway. Cheap wood paneling stretched along a corridor ending with one small boarded up window. Ceiling lights flickered, throwing weak circles of luminance onto the crusty brown carpet, leaving the rest of the hallway drenched in shadows.
“It’s creepy in here.” Zoe cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. “And it smells like a dirty old shoe.”
“I know, but it’s all I can afford right now.” Allie felt a little let down. She had never known Zoe to be paranoid, but the building obviously unsettled her. “It’s not that bad, is it?”
“He’s back!” A crackling voice screeched from behind them.
Zoe spun around. “Holy fucking Jesus! I just about pissed my pants.”
Across the hall, an old woman stood in the doorway of an open apartment. Moving with a speed that defied her withered frame, she grabbed Allie’s wrist, digging gnarled fingers into her flesh.
“It’s hungry again.”
Allie pulled away from her. “What are you talking about? What’s hungry?”
“Probably her hundred freaking cats,” Zoe said, chuckling at her own joke. She grabbed Allie’s keys and fumbled in the dark, trying to unlock the door. “The old fossil looks a little touched, if you know what I mean.”
The old woman moved closer. “Siddous is hungry and his jackal is on the prowl.”
Zoe jiggled the key in the lock. “What’s wrong with this thing?”
“Never walk the stones in the mist, girl.”
“It’s always foggy here lady,” Zoe said over her shoulder. “You can’t get away from that shit.”
When the lock finally clicked, Zoe grabbed Allie’s arm and dragged her into the apartment, closing the door. Her neighbor’s voice bled through the wood.
“The jackal comes with the shadows.”
“What do you think she’s talking about?” Allie asked, listening to the old woman’s fading voice.
The door across the hall slammed shut, rattling the pictures on the walls.
“I have no idea.” Zoe pitched the keys to Allie and fell on the couch. “How long you gonna live here?”
Allie pulled back the drapes. “Maybe until I finish school. It’s close and saves a ton of money.” She stared down at the crime scene below. “That’s weird.”
“What?” Zoe hopped up to peer out of the window. “Can you see the body?”
“No, they’ve covered it, but look—on the street. Around the body, there’s an area that looks different—”
“Oh yeah, I noticed that outside, the cobblestones look like they’ve been replaced,” Zoe said. “Hey look, across the street, halfway up the wall on that building. The paint looks fresh.”
“That is so strange. I swear it wasn’t like that yesterday.”
Zoe stared down at the scene below her. “It’s kind of like an urban crop circle, but look, the body is dead center—”
“And everything around it looks new.”
Chapter 4
Kill Room
Allie took a breath of the moist evening air and glanced toward the sky. Storm clouds marched into the eastern horizon, pouring life from their rumbling innards, cleansing the night in their wake. Streaking the face of the full winter’s moon, their fringes caught fire with silver light and shimmered atop a blue-black sky. She curled her fingers around the .38 in her pocket.
Her baby.
Her protection.
The pistol’s grip cooled her palm, but the peace of mind it brought was far from cold. With yesterday’s murder so close to her doorstep, she was scared, and she wouldn’t hesitate to use it. A strange sensation prickled her skin and she pulled her coat a little tighter. Relieved the rain had finally stopped, Allie paused in the street outside of her building and stared up at her window.