War Demons: An Urban Fantasy Thriller (The Prodigal Son Book 1)

by Russell Newquist

  “I don’t think we’ve properly met. Michael Alexander.” He stuck out his hand. “And you are?”

  The old man stood up and accepted his handshake with a firm grip. “Gabriel McCann.”

  “Wanna tell me how you just happened to be there when I fell out of a window?”

  “I was sent.”

  “Sent? By who?”

  “Whom.”

  “What?”

  “The schools these days.” The old man shook his head. “They don’t teach you anything. Accusative case. Whom.”

  The younger man stared at him, incredulous.

  “Great, now I’m stuck in prison with a grammar Nazi. Fine. Sent by whom?”

  “Think of him as... a messenger,” the older man replied.

  “And he sent you with a squirt gun full of holy water?”

  The old man took offense at the word.

  “Not a squirt gun. A Super Soaker. One of the greatest holy weapons ever invented. Ask any vampire hunter.”

  “Well, when you put it like that...”

  “We got word that something – “

  “We?” Michael frowned. “Are you Agency?”

  Like most soldiers, Michael had an innate distrust of the CIA. The spooks liked to commandeer special forces units to do half their dirty work. Somehow they always left the grunts holding the bag.

  “Of course not!” The Texan looked deeply offended. “Call it me and some friends. We... keep a close watch on the Spin Ghar mountains, these days.”

  The hair on the back of Michael’s neck stood up. Anger and fear welled up within him. As it had so often before in his life, it came out as snark.

  “Why? You had such a great vacation there that you decided to buy a timeshare?”

  “No,” the force of the old man’s reply surprised Michael. “My grandson died up there five years ago, saving a bunch of cowboys like yourself who didn’t take this seriously.”

  Michael deflated.

  “I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry.” He sat down again, feeling like a jackass.

  McCann softened his tone.

  “We’ve been keeping an eye on the area ever since. Watching for... oddities. We got word something went down in the spring. But our friends in the military wouldn’t tell us what was going on. So we lost the thread, until we found you. But even with that nugget, we couldn’t dig up much. So I came prepared for vampires.”

  “Vampires.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Vampires.”

  “We’ve covered that, alright?” the old man ignored his incredulity. “But I wasn’t prepared for this… whatever it is.”

  “I was really hoping you could tell me.”

  “I’ve never seen one of these before. But my friends may know more. We get around.”

  “Who are you guys?”

  “Not here.” He pointed at the cameras again. “After our lawyers do their thing and get us out.”

  As if on cue, a man in plain clothes approached the cell and opened the door. Michael recognized him at once, even without a uniform. Their paths had crossed plenty back in his reckless youth. His instinctive sarcasm came to the fore.

  “Officer Burns, I’ve missed you so much!”

  “It’s Detective Burns now. Can’t say the feeling’s mutual.” He held out a pair of handcuffs.

  “Really, here in front of an audience?” Michael chided him. “So kinky! I promise, detective, I’m reformed now.”

  “Can it, Michael. I’ve seen your file. Until you started the sarcastic crap, I was pretty sure you had reformed – maybe lost some of the crazy, even. But you never did grow up, did you? Believe it or not, we’re actually pulling for you, but our hands are tied at a higher level. So cut the shit, ok?”

  Michael got serious quickly.

  “Sorry man. Old habits.”

  Burns accepted that with a grunt.

  “Higher level. Federal?”

  “I can’t talk about it. But Michael,” he paused for a moment. “Just be careful, all right?” Burns gestured at a doorway. Michael recognized the interrogation room from previous visits. He felt prepared as he stepped through the door.

  He was wrong.

  Michael could spot federal agents a mile off, even when they were “undercover.” They kept to a harsh official dress and grooming code to begin with. But the unofficial code, combined with their hiring standards, gave them away every time. Tall, beefy, short-cropped hair, the same cheap suits. Or, on “casual” days, the same khakis and polo shirts. The same sunglasses. Michael guessed that they all ordered their clothes out of a special “federal agent” catalog.

  The man before him most certainly did not look like a federal agent. His five foot ten frame almost exactly nailed the average. He kept his brown hair short, but not close cropped. Brown eyes didn’t draw attention to themselves, either. His casual clothing actually looked casual. Michael never would have noticed him in a crowd.

  Except that he’d met this man before.

  “Major Daniels?” The familiar face surprised Michael. Why would a Delta Force officer interrogate him?

  “You clearly have me confused with someone else.” Michael heard the order disguised as a statement. “Dr. Jameson, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.” He presented a badge. Michael ignored it. He knew the fake credentials would be perfect.

  “Right.” He dragged the word out slowly. He’d last seen this man in Afghanistan, right before the major had taken a detachment of special Special Forces on a mission. Word came back that the mission had gone all pear shaped. Michael didn’t know for sure – it had all been pretty hush-hush.

  “I’d like my lawyer, please.”

  “There’s no need for that. We’re just going to have a friendly chat.” Daniels, or Jameson, or whoever he was rose to his feet. He strolled over and casually unplugged the video camera in the corner. “See? No record. Nothing you say here will be used against you in a court of law.”

  “You’ll only use it against me outside a court of law? Thanks. I feel so much better.”

  “We’ve locked down the area around the library. Apparently there’s been an outbreak of a rather nasty infectious disease that drives its victims insane. You shot one of these madmen in self-defense. Unfortunately we’ve had to quarantine the area to prevent the spread of this disease.”

  Michael blinked.

  “Is that what you’re calling it?”

  “Sergeant Alexander –”

  Michael cut him off quickly. A brainwave had fired. He decided to play a hunch.

  “Not anymore. You saw to that with the ‘medical discharge,’ remember?”

  A flicker passed over Jameson’s eyes. The shot in the dark had found its target.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m sure you don’t.” The other man broke eye contact first. Michael accepted the small victory.

  “Michael, then –”

  Michael cut him off again.

  “My friends call me Michael. People who call me a liar and get me fired don’t qualify as friends.”

  The two men locked eyes.

  “Mr. Alexander, I don’t think you appreciate just how serious this is.”

  “I’ll start taking it seriously when you do.”

  “I take this very seriously, Mr. Alexander. I have an entire team tracking these things.”

  “Is that why you leaked my pictures to Dr. Jones? Hoping to find out more about them?” This time his hunch failed.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My pictures. The ones I took in Afghanistan that you confiscated.” The man stared at him blankly. “Of the codex from the village. You leaked them to Dr. Jones. I think Abby said he was from Georgetown.”

  The man calmly lifted a cell phone out of his pocket and dialed.

  “Sergeant Hall, get on the phone with someone at Georgetown. Yes, the university. I want you to track down a Dr. Jones. Probably from the anthropology department.” He looked q
uestioningly at Michael, who nodded. “Yes, anthropology. I want him and all of his research in our lab by tonight. All of his research.”

  Michael couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he didn’t need to. Military conversations tended to sound pretty much the same. Whatever he said, Jameson was military. Michael had been in the special forces long enough to know an official lie when he heard one.

  “Tell me about this manuscript,” Jameson instructed.

  “We saw it on our last incursion to Pakistan. Some village shaman had it. It had a picture of one of these things in it. Probably talked all about it, but we couldn’t read it.”

  “What village is this? I’d like to get somebody out there.”

  “The one we were visiting when the chopper got shot down.”

  Jameson shuffled through the file. “The reports say you were making a run for bandits near the Khyber Pass.”

  “That was the cover story. You’d have to find the classified report to get the real one.”

  “This is the classified report. It’s supposed to have everything, but there’s no mention of a village at all.”

  “It’s real, I promise.”

  “I believe you. Now.” The last word came after a short pause.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  The door slammed open suddenly. A very well-dressed man stepped in. It appeared a lawyer had arrived – a very expensive lawyer, from the look of his clothes.

  “This conversation is over. I will speak with my client now.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jameson closed the folder and stood calmly.

  “That’s fine, we’re done here anyway.” He looked down at the prisoner. “I’ll be in touch.” He strode out the door.

  A moment later, two more men entered. Michael recognized Chief Moses Lewis from his younger days, although he’d been a lowly Lieutenant then. James Covington followed close behind. His presence explained everything. Well, almost everything.

  “How’d you know I was here, Jim?”

  “Abby called me. Told me everything.”

  Michael caught his look instantly and gave an almost imperceptible nod in response. He knew to keep his mouth shut and let the lawyer do the talking. But Chief Lewis started first.

  “What the hell’s going on in my town, Jim? I’ve got a bunch of college kids telling me that they saw some kind of monster. The Feds are telling me it’s a terrorist attack, or maybe some kind of hallucinogen in the water. And you,” he turned to Michael, “somehow your trouble-making self is at the center of all of this.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

  “I want to throw the book at you, just for old time’s sake” the chief continued. “We’ve got you dead to rights on carrying a weapon on campus, possession of a weapon at a public gathering, shooting across a street, pointing a firearm at another person, destruction of state property, reckless endangerment, and possession of a firearm while committing a felony. I’m pretty sure we could also make assault charges stick, if we wanted to. I’ve got three witnesses who say that you know the assailant personally. And I’m damn certain that you know more about that Ward girl’s disappearance than you’ve told us.”

  He shook his head and took another breath, then reached into his pocket. He retrieved a small bottle of pills, opened it, and swallowed one with a small sip of water. Then he got up and began pacing around the room. The room quaked. Michael wasn’t sure if it was the size of the sheriff or the age of the police station. He supposed it was likely both.

  “Blood pressure pills,” he informed them. “This job...”

  He sighed and shook his head.

  “On the other hand, I’ve got a bunch of college kids, who may or may not be high, telling me that you’re a God damned hero. I’ve got reports of you throwing yourself out of a second story window to keep your fellow students safe. And I’ve got three people, at least, who have already told Channel 11 viewers on live TV that you saved their lives.”

  “What does your gut tell you, Moses?” Jim asked quietly.

  “Ah, hell, I don’t know, Jim. We’ve had other reports, weird ones, cropping up the last few months. Bizarre initiation rituals, crazy behavior, weird violence. There are reports that they’re working with some of the fraternities on campus. We’ve even got rumors that they picked up all those girls because they’re virgins for crying out loud. As if you’d find any of those on campus. The state boys and the feds say it’s all a bunch of crap. They say gangs out of Atlanta are moving into town.”

  “You believe that?”

  “Hell no. A bunch of rich, white, good-ol’-boys working together with poor black or Hispanic gangbangers? Somebody’s selling us a bill of goods. But it’s all connected somehow, I know that for damn sure.”

  “What are you going to do?” Jim asked.

  “I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do, Jim. The whole county is going crazy. This job is supposed to be arresting rednecks before they blow up their meth labs, and pulling over drunk college kids before they wrap themselves around a tree. Back in the day this used to be a civilized county. Now everything’s going to shit.”

  “I sympathize,” Jim told him sincerely. “And I suspect that it’s worse than we know. But what I meant was, what are you going to do with Michael?”

  “Don’t interrupt me when I’m in the middle of a good rant, Jim!” he scolded his friend with a finger wag.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, Moses.” Covington replied. He hesitated. Chief Lewis didn’t rattle easily. That unsettled Covington more than he wanted to admit. “How bad is it really?”

  “I don’t know, Jim.” The chief took off his spectacles and closed his eyes as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Usually all this ritual stuff is just stupid bullshit. It turns out to be a couple of them goth kids up at the University getting high and stupid. Or it’s just a couple of moms who were overly-sheltered as kids now returning the favor on their own kids. They run into something a tiny bit different than what they see at church every Sunday and the next thing you know they see Satan hiding in every shadow.”

  He actually let out a chuckle before continuing.

  “This one time, Jamey Franklin called me up in a panic – you know Jamey?” Jim didn’t. “Well, Jamey, she calls me up all hot and bothered because of all these occult symbols her new neighbors were putting everywhere. Said it was real freaky, and bizarre rituals and whatnot. Turned out it was just an Orthodox Jewish family.”

  Jim laughed. Michael was too tense to join in but sensed things moving their way.

  “I love the folk here, Jim, I really do. I love everything about this place. But God Almighty, if a few of them don’t go off every now and again and prove all the stereotypes true.”

  “You said this time was different?”

  Chief Lewis nodded.

  “This hasn’t made the news yet, but it will. Probably by morning. You know that girl who disappeared? The Ward Girl?”

  Both Michael and Jim allowed that they did.

  “We found her body this afternoon. And it was all... I don’t even have the words, Jim. It was all candles and torches and symbols. And she was all carved up, strange markings on her. And the blood... the goddamn blood was everywhere.”

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his nose once more. He finally donned his glasses again and looked up at them.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to throw the book at your boy,” the Chief answered. “And don’t thank me. I’m not doing it for you. The one thing I’m damned certain of is that he didn’t carve that girl up. And besides, if that son of a bitch Fed thinks he can waltz in here and tell me how to run my town, he’s got another think coming. Says he’s from the CDC and thinks I don’t see right through that. Damned Yankee doesn’t know his ass from his elbow, and there’s no way I’m playing the game his way.”

  Jim nodded. He’d known Chief Lewis for thirty years, and in all that time the man had shown exactly two constants. He’d never given into anything under pres
sure, and he’d walk ten miles out of his way to aggravate a Yankee.

  “Under the circumstances, I can drop the weapons charge. It’s good optics, anyway. He did save a bunch of kids, and Lord knows that Abby will turn on the beauty and the charm when she goes on TV to defend him. But he broke the law – and I’ve got the Feds and the state breathing down my back. I can’t just do nothing. I’m going to have to yank his permit.”

  Covington glanced at Michael. He nodded in agreement. Frankly, he hadn’t expected to get off so light. He supposed it helped to have expensive lawyers and friends in high places.

  “If it were up to me, I’d pin a medal on the kid. Hell, I’d pin a medal on him just for getting that Yankee’s dander up. But you know how the media is going to spin this. Especially in this city. College towns aren’t exactly known as a holdout of second amendment rights.”

  “It’s OK, Moses.” Covington replied. “I think we can live with that.”

  “And the University is going to do whatever it does. By their current rules, carrying on campus is an offense worthy of expulsion. I can’t help you there.”

  “I can make a few phone calls,” James began.

  Michael interrupted him.

  “Thanks, but don’t bother. I’ve been within a hairs breadth of getting out of that place anyway. I’ll make it official, as soon as I get a chance.” James opened his mouth as if to argue and then apparently thought better of it.

  “Fair enough.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  They cruised around Loop 10 at high speed, all silent except for the roar of the Aston Martin V12 Vantage. Michael hadn’t seen the car before. Jim must have picked it up while he was gone. If the ride hadn’t been so awkward, it would’ve been fun.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d been bailed out of jail. It was the first time that his former future father-in-law had bailed him out. For once he was more or less innocent. That made it a little less awkward. A little.

  Back in the day he hadn’t actually much cared what James thought about his wild nights. He hadn’t really much cared what anybody else thought, either. The girls always seemed to like it, even though they pretended otherwise.