Dead-Tective Box Set

by Mac Flynn

  "Brutus, heel," Romero commanded. Brutus reluctantly released the devil, and Romero hefted his ragged captive to its feet. "No more running tonight," the officer commented as he handed the devil to one of his subordinates. He clasped the leash around Brutus' neck and stood by for any further escapees.

  The battle lasted for ten minutes and in the end the Parasquad officers emerged victorious with a long line of captives ready to be interrogated. They also carried with them lab equipment such as beakers and vials filled with strange-colored liquids.

  Of the couple dozen zombies, I noticed a few didn't make it out in one piece, and more than one was slashed to ribbons by the claws of the devils. Their partners hauled them to the squad cars and pieced them back together with thick thread and needles.

  I pointed at the plastic spray bottles. "Did you-"

  "Get the idea from Mitch? It was about time that seller of secrets was useful to the squad," Romero quipped.

  "If we have fulfilled our promise then I ask that you fulfill yours," Vince spoke up.

  "You have, and I'm a zombie of my word." Romero held the leash out to us, but Brutus snarled in Vince's direction.

  I knelt down and smiled at the menacing mutt. "Hello, there," I cooed. "You look like such a nice doggy. You're a nice doggy, aren't you? Do you want to go find some bones for us?" At mention of bones the zombie dog stopped growling and its remaining ear perked up.

  Romero sighed. "You've found his only weakness. No matter how much training he goes through he will obey anyone who even mentions bones." He handed the leash to me, and Brutus rubbed his side against my leg and looked up at me with those cute, clouded eyes. "Take care of him. He's the best dog a zombie could dig up."

  "We'll have him back in no time," I promised.

  "And I would like a bottle of the blood," Vince requested.

  Romero raised an eyebrow, but pulled a small spray bottle from inside his jacket and handed it to Vince. "More trouble with devils?" he guessed.

  "We shall see," Vince replied as he pocketed the liquid.

  I looked to Vince and smiled. "Time to finish this?"

  "Time to finish this," he agreed.

  Chapter 12

  By the time we returned to Harriet's former property the night was waning. The sun would rise in an hour and we would have to put our original case on hold. The property was as quiet as the grave as we parked the car in the darkness of the wild trees. We three, Brutus included, walked up the slight incline to the house, but Harriet was nowhere to be found.

  "Think she's taking a dirt nap?" I quipped as we reached the basement door. Vince's serious face killed my joke and my smile. "What is it?"

  "Harriet is not here," he revealed.

  I frowned. "How can you tell?"

  "A haunted place has a chill that settles on the bones. I no longer feel that chill here," he explained.

  I recalled the first time we came to the house, and the chill that swept over me as I stared at the house. "You're right, it is gone," I agreed. Vince walked toward the front of the house. "Hey, wait!" I called out as Brutus and I rushed after him. I caught up to him at the corner of the home. "Does this mean she's at rest?" I wondered. Vince paused and his eyes narrowed. I followed his gaze and saw the lights in the cottage were on. "You think he knows something we don't?" I guessed. Brutus flattened his ears and growled at the cottage. "What's wrong with you two?"

  "The scent of death comes from the cottage, as does the scent of a devil," Vince explained.

  "Then that means-?" I wasn't sure what that meant, but Vince strode forward and I followed. We came to the door and I sniffed the air. "You know what I don't smell? All that nasty stuff," I commented.

  "It has been taken away," Vince agreed. The door to the cottage was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open.

  The door swung open on its creaky hinges and revealed a large front room. There was the kitchen and dining space on the left, and the living room and hanging body on the right. At the rear was the bath and bedrooms.

  Wait a second. Something wasn't right here. I pointed a shaking finger at the body that hung from the ceiling. "Um, Vince?"

  Vince sprinted into the room and jumped into the air. He sliced the sturdy rope with his hand and dropped to the ground in time to catch the body. The limp form fell into his arms and he lowered the person to the floor. I hurried up and cringed when the bloated face of Bobby Morley stared back at me with wide, unblinking eyes.

  "He's-"

  "Dead, yes, and has been for a few hours," Vince confirmed. He set the corpse on the floor and examined the room. There was a nearby chair for him to step on, and the rope had been connected to one of the open rafter beams.

  "Suicide?" I guessed.

  "So it's made to appear," he agreed.

  Brutus sniffed the air and growled. "Heel, Brutus. What do you mean made to appear?" I asked Vince.

  Vince nodded at the dog. "Brutus can smell that a devil has been here, and all the anti-supernatural equipment he purchased has disappeared."

  "So the devil he bought it from collected their stuff and his life?" I surmised.

  "So it appears," Vince confirmed. He stood and wandered around the room.

  My eyes invariably wandered to the dead man. He lay with his shoes closest to me, and their clean soles reminded me of something somebody said to us earlier that night. I furrowed my brow and glanced over my shoulder at Vince. "Who told us about Bobby's dirty shoes?" I asked him.

  Vince paused and turned to me with a raised eyebrow. "The attorney, Bartlett. Why?"

  "Did he say that the dirt was from the basement, but that Bobby didn't tell him what he'd been up to?" I wondered.

  "Yes, he-" Vince paused and his eyes widened.

  "And didn't Harriet say the attorney never went into the house, as far as she knew?" I added.

  Vince's eyes narrowed and his hands balled into fists at his sides. "It appears we must pay another visit to the attorney."

  "But what about him?" I asked as I gestured to the corpse.

  "We can do nothing more for him, and our presence would only bring awkward questions," Vince pointed out.

  We abandoned the body and drove to the attorney's office. At that early hour the streets were still deserted, but the lights were still on inside the office. "How late does this guy work?" I wondered aloud as we stepped out. I held Brutus' leash, and the zombie dog sniffed the air and curled its lips back in a ghastly snarl. "I know this isn't where the bones are, but we'll find them," I tried to soothe him.

  "He smells something far more dangerous than bones," Vince countered. He strode to the door, but tripped on a crack in the broken sidewalk. His shoulder stumbled into the side of the building.

  I hurried to his side and noticed his face was still ghastly pale. "You sure you're up for this?" I asked him.

  "We have no choice," he pointed out.

  Vince righted himself and led the way into the office. When I stepped one foot into the sitting room Brutus went berserk. He jumped forward and snapped at the door that led to the rear of the building. I grabbed the leash with both hands and tried to tug him backward, but he dragged me toward the door.

  "Bad Brutus! No!" I shouted. The door swung open, but there was nobody on the other side. Brutus didn't mind the ghostly lack of a person and pulled me through the entrance. "Do something!" I shouted at my partner. Vince jumped forward and snatched my hands. He yanked me off the leash and Brutus sprinted into the depths of the building. "Why'd you do that?" I growled.

  "We need him to lead us to the scent," Vince argued as he took off after the zombie dog.

  I sighed and rushed after the pair. Brutus led us to an open hatch at the rear of the building that led into a dimly-lit basement. The dog flew down the stairs and us at his heels. Brutus skipped the final few steps and landed on the cement floor. His hackles, or what remained on his rotting flesh, were raised and his lips were curled back in a snarl so fierce he would have scared Harriet.

  We joined him at
the bottom and beheld a different basement than what I expected. There were numerous tables set up around the walls, and each one held scientific equipment. There were vials of strange-colored liquids on the shelves above the tables. I gasped when I recognized the same ingredients as though confiscated from the book factory.

  Vince walked over to the nearest table and picked up one of the vials. He swished the contents, and the liquid splashed against the glass. Rather than fading away, the liquid left a smear that resembled a hideous, skeletal face. Vince frowned and swept his eyes over the remaining tables.

  "Advocate Ministries," he growled.

  There came a clap from behind us, and we spun around in time to see Attorney Bartlett walk down the stairs. He had a wide grin on his face and his eyes were a bright yellow color. "Bravo! You figured it all out, detective. A little late and slow, but a solid deduction."

  Brutus backed up to stand in front of us, and I sidled up close to Vince. "What's going on?" I whispered.

  "Haven't you guessed?" Bartlett mused as he stepped onto the basement floor. He strode past us and over to a table to the left of the stairs. The man raised his arms to the room. "This is my little experiment lab, but after your interference it appears it's my only lab."

  "You're-" My eyes widened when I recalled something actually useful from my school days. "Advocate is another name for an attorney!"

  Bartlett chuckled. "You're even slower than the vampire here. It's amazing Vincent here hasn't done the world a favor and killed you both."

  Vince's eyes narrowed. "You pretended to be hypnotized by me to throw us off the trail."

  "Yes, and wasn't it a good show?" Bartlett mused. He picked up a vial and swished around the contents. "Imagine my surprise to find you on my scent, especially when it was that idiot Morley and his senile mother who brought you here. I had to have my men follow you, but I believe they became a little hasty in dealing with you. They paid with their lives, but the mistake was made. You have no idea how hard it is to find good help these days."

  "Wait, you're the leader of those devils?" I guessed.

  Bartlett placed the vial back and turned to me with a grand bow. "Guilty as charged, as they say in the human courts."

  "You are the leader of the Supernatural Syndicate," Vince proclaimed.

  "Again, I plead guilty," Bartlett replied. He lifted his face and the smile slid from his face. His eyes narrowed as he straightened. "Unfortunately, you interfered with a very lucrative business arrangement, and my important client is very upset with me. That has forced me to temporarily move my operations to my office until I can find a more permanent space."

  "Wait a sec, so this guy-" I gestured to the short, portly fellow, "-is the leader of those devils?"

  Bartlett glanced down at himself. "Yes, this disguise fools idiots and those who are too rushed to notice. You both fall under one of those categories, but I must excuse you, Vincent, for your lack of care. I have been in the anti-supernatural business long enough to be able to hide my identity when I wish. However, that time has passed."

  My eyes widened when I beheld long, curled horns sprout from Bartlett's forehead. His body stretched upward until he was six feet tall, and a tail swept out his rear and cracked the air like a whip. His suit ripped open and exposed tight, bulging muscles, and his skin changed to the familiar red color of a devil. He fisted his thick, powerful hands as his fingers blended into three, and his shoes broke open to reveal cloven hooves. If there was ever a devil on earth, this guy was it.

  "Oh shit," I commented.

  A smirk slid onto his face. "It is far worse than that." He stepped back to a pile of boxes and tipped the top one over. Piles of bones slid from the box and onto the floor. He took a vial of liquid off a nearby table and dumped the contents onto the bones.

  A small tornado whipped out of nowhere and swept up the bones. The wind glowed with a brilliant white color as the bones spun around in the tornado. The tornado lined the bones up in six piles and lifted the bones up so they were all placed as they should be. The song with the lines 'the leg bone connected to the hip bone' ran through my mind as the wind built the skeletons from the toes up until they were complete. The wind swept away from the bony bodies, but they stood on their own. A dark purple glow appeared in their sockets, and they looked around in wonder.

  "Where am I?" spoke one skeleton

  "This isn't my grave!" another exclaimed.

  The third stepped toward us and shook their bony fist in our direction. "What the hell have you two fools done?" the skeleton growled.

  "Harriet?" I yelped. The skeleton was indeed Harriet reunited with her former body.

  "Stand down, bones," Bartlett ordered the skeletons. I was dismayed when Harriet shut her mouth with a bony rattle and stepped back into line with the other five. Bartlett gestured to the bones. "You see, as the caller of their resurrection I have complete control over them which is very unfortunate for you both as, unlike we devils, they are nearly impossible to destroy." He snapped his fingers and the skeletons leaped at us.

  Chapter 13

  Imagine trying to fight a half dozen skeletons in the confines of a small room filled with vials, the contents of which you have no idea what it is or would do to you, with a devil maniacally laughing in the background. Also keep in mind one of the skeletons was a client of yours who still hadn't paid you for running your asses off trying to solve her problem. Take that image, and that was pretty much the dilemma Vince and I faced as the skeletons jumped us.

  Vince and I dove out of the way and I rolled beneath a nearby table. The skeletons landed where we just stood, and that was their first mistake. Brutus had stood stock-still and absolutely quiet during Bartlett's big bony reveal, but now the dog had the bones within reach and dove at the chance for a delicious nibble. The zombie mutt chomped down on the nearest leg bone, and the skeleton victim yelped and tried to kick him off. Brutus wasn't letting go, and instead climbed up the leg bone with an aim for the juicy ribs.

  That was one bony distracted, and five more to go. The one formerly known as Harriet and another one followed me under the table and the other three went for Vince. Vince slid under one of the tables in the center of the room and spun around to face them across the table. He pulled the spray bottle given to him by Romero from his coat and a red mist shot from the item. The mist covered the bonies, and they screamed in agony as steam arose from their bones. The unnatural purple light flew from their eye sockets in a long, glowing stream of brilliance and their bodies collapsed into piles of dusty bones. The streams of light swept upward through the ceiling and disappeared.

  My own battle wasn't going so well as I ducked and dove beneath their slashing, bony hands. They hopped atop tables as I slid beneath them, and liquid goop from the vials spilled everywhere. I ran myself into a corner, literally, as the bonies slunk toward me with their wide, evil grins on their faces. "Vince, a little help here!" I shouted.

  He tossed me the spray bottle and charged Bartlett. I juggled the plastic bottle for a few moments just as the bonies jumped me. I slid to the ground, grabbed the neck and sprayed a healthy dose of the lamb's blood over their bodies. They screamed like their brethren and fell to the floor as their souls were forced from their bodies.

  "Sorry," I squeaked as I stepped over them. There went our agreement with Harriet.

  I joined Vince and we both confronted Bartlett, who now stood with one of the hated magical books in one hand. The pages were open and he was backed against the near corner of the basement wall. There was a smile on his lips as he held his free hand over the pages.

  "You believe you can defeat the prince of all the devils, pathetic vampires?" he snarled.

  "No, but we're going to try," I quipped.

  Bartlett chuckled and his fingers wiggled above the book. "Then try with the full force of all hell's might inside of me."

  A tendril of black mist arose from the book and swirled around him like a transparent snake. Bartlett stretched up and his heig
ht extended to seven feet so that his horns brushed against the top of the ceiling. His horns curled twice over themselves like a ram, but a bull-like mane of thick, black, coarse hair tore open his shirt and swept down his bare back. He reared his head back and his nose widened and flattened like that of a bull. His clawed hands thickened to almost hooves, and his pants tore open so only the cloth around his waist remained. His muscles thickened and stretched as they were pumped full of the demonic powers he'd called from hell. The yellow in his eyes changed to bottomless black, and he looked at us with all the fury of hell.

  Bartlett cast aside the book and bellow at us. He pushed off from the wall and Vince pushed me aside and jumped to the opposite wall before we were both trampled. The raging bull rammed through the tables and slammed into the upper part of the far wall. His horns sank deeply into the structure, but he pressed his palms against the wall and pulled himself out. Holes remained in the walls and the cracks swept across the wall, destabilizing the entire structure.

  Bartlett faced us and his black eyes fell on me. I stood against the corner opposite the stairs and the wreck of a thousand vials lay around me so that I dared not move for fear of turning into something monstrous like that. Bartlett snorted and burning sulfur erupted from his nostrils. The bull charged me, but a flash of Vince swept in front of me and grabbed the bull by the horns.

  Vince whipped his head over his shoulders at me. "The bottle-" he couldn't finish his sentence before the bull swung his head from Vince's grasp and impaled Vince on one of its horns.

  "No!" I screamed as Bartlett lifted Vince off the floor.

  Vince grasped the horn that stuck through his upper chest and thrashed, but he couldn't budge. "The-bottle!" he choked out. Blood drizzled from his mouth and spilled from the hole in his chest.

  I tossed the bottle to him, and Vince caught it in one hand. Always the show-off. He jabbed the bottle onto the other horn and they were both doused by the contents. The bull creature flung its head back and Vince was thrown from the horn. He landed hard against the far wall of the basement and Bartlett stumbled blindly around the room destroying what remained of his experiments. The creature clutched at his eyes and clawed at his skin, but that only spread the blood to further parts of his body. The pure blood ate at his impure self, and in ten seconds his body collapsed to the floor in a puddle of bubbling, gooey red mess.