3 Townhall Fiction
2 Townhall Fiction
1 Townhall Fiction
Part 1 in this special series begins the book Second Paradigm, by author Peter J Wacks.
We are introduced to some of the main characters: Chris Nost, and Wanda Garret.
What happens next? Is Chris guilty or innocent? Who is the inventer of Time Travel….?
Tune in next week for part 2!
The Alleyway (Skid – GTT character sketch)
Skid stood in the mouth of the alley that ran behind the Westminster church. His languid gaze casually strolled both ways, trying to pierce the damp fog that shrouded the London nightlife around him. He couldn’t see any flatfoots patrolling the area, and if he couldn’t see them then they couldn’t see him.
A hooker quickly walked past him, wrapped in a thick fur coat with her shoulders slumped, giving the impression that she was ragged and beaten, and not caring enough to show her wares on this cold night.
Her jaded and tired eyes quickly looked him up and down – sizing him up as she passed. But she saw only a fourteen-year-old street kid wearing torn jeans, a ripped shirt, and a frayed gray trench. He was definitely not John material, at least not for a few more years. Then she looked back to the pavement before her feet, not wanting to stare too long – afraid of baiting him into attacking her.
He thought about rolling her for a moment, but shrugged the idea off. Juicing whores always pissed off the pimps and they were real trouble. Those guys where colder than ice and they would as soon slit your throat as look at you. Besides, she had obviously been at her job for far too long and was loosing what looks she may have once had. The hag probably wouldn’t have much dough on her anyway.
Ugly whores were always fairly broke – but they stayed alive because there was always some schmuck who couldn’t afford to buy anything better. Once she was a bit further down the block he reached into the depths of his faded and beaten trench pulling out two cans of stolen spray paint. One was black and the other red. Now: to do the job that he was really here to do. He grinned and turned into the alley.
The Alleyway was dank and smelly. The fog was dampening everything there, and as a result the fine layer of dew was covering the trash. The added moistness only made the trash rot – which added to the putrid stench. Skid grimaced and tried to only breathe through his mouth.
As thoughts ran through his head he began to get a bit giddy from the adrenaline rush – which made it easier to ignore the fetid smell. Tagging the house of God. There was no act deemed greater in Skid’s skewed reality.
Skid hated God, and his hatred coursed and flowed in his veins with a dark passion love could never know. He had grown up mostly in orphanages and catholic charity boarding schools. His parents hadn’t wanted him, so had given him up – and he hated them too for not loving him.
But the lord of mankind held a special place in Skid’s blackened heart… But the way he figured it his heart was no worse than anyone else’s. After all: look at all the messed up thing people do to each other every day. But God he definitely hated most of all. It was hatred so deep even Lucifer Morningstar would envy it and place it on display for all in Hell to see. God had hurt him more than every other. God had given him every piece of pain in his life. Every shard of Skid’s shattered soul, every wasted tear, shed only to mingle with his own blood, was God’s responsibility.
Throughout his entire childhood the nuns had all beaten him for reasons he couldn’t understand. Three of the priests had raped him and then, feeling guilty over the act, had him beaten for being the temptation that led them to sin. He remembered the faces of all the nuns and priests. In fact, he remembered with a perfect clarity every single face that had ever caused him pain over the course of his brief life.
Someday he would… he would get even. Someday he would do much worse to them than they had to him. After all, was he not taught that what you cast unto waters you receive tenfold? He would have his revenge. And right now he was starting it. He was going to tag this church with his name. He was going to make this house his spiritual property and take it away from a useless God… and he would do it to every church in London.
He quickly scanned the alley. It was filled by cardboard fantasies of homes never had and visions of a soulless future. It was obvious that homeless often tried to camp here but were booted out by the coppers. Right now the only life sharing this space with Skid was a homeless old man, dirty and pale, asleep under a pile of newspapers. Skid walked up to him and planted his steel tipped toe right into the old geezer’s ribs.
“Oi, grandfather. Shove off!” Just to make sure his point was gotten he planted another kick into the man’s midsection. Much to Skid’s surprise the old man didn’t budge. He didn’t even groan at the force of the kick.
Skid was young – he knew that he didn’t have much muscle –but his life had made him tough. He knew how to throw his entire weight into a kick so he would break bones – a trick he learned quickly so that whomever he was fighting with would not be getting back up. Skid looked again at the man, this time much more closely, and realized that his chest wasn’t moving. Well, the skagger was stone cold dead. What d-ya’ know, it was turning out to be Skid’s lucky night. He could roll the body and at least come away with a decent pair of boots. If he were really lucky the old-timer would have a half-consumed bottle of booze.
Skid knelt next to the man and started pulling the newspapers off. One of the headlines, briefly glimpsed, amused him. It read “London’s Abused Homeless Population: Death Rate Up By Twenty Percent.”
Sure enough the man was clutching something to his chest. He began to pry at the man’s cold stiff fingers, eager to see what prize tonight’s treasure hunt would reveal. But the corpse’s fingers – locked as tightly as they were – wouldn’t budge despite Skid’s best efforts. Skid braced himself and yanked with all of his fourteen-year-olds strength, not caring if he ripped the guy’s hand off. He wanted whatever it was the old man had valued so dearly. He wanted it very badly. And finally the death embrace of the old man’s hands broke – without tearing off any body parts.
Skid looked in awe at what he saw revealed. The old fart had been hiding a fragging sword under his trench. The blade was some type of blue gray metal and it looked sharp and really old. The hilt was leather wrapped, and there was some writing etched into it in a language Skid didn’t even recognize. It looked vaguely like Sumerian, or at least what Skid vaguely remember Sumerian looking like from the ancient history course he had been in right before he ran away last time. He couldn’t even begin to read the fragging letters. Talk about luck! This was an awesome find – hell, this was probably his best find ever.
Skid’s greedy little eyes lighted up – he should be able to pull at least fifty or sixty pounds out of this find at the right place – and that was a whole lot of money to someone like him. He reverentially reached down and let his fingers wrap around the hilt. It was cold to the touch and seemed to slightly vibrate almost like a heartbeat. The old man’s eyes fluttered open and his hand shot out faster than lightning and seized Skid’s lapel. Skid jerked back in surprise, and the fingers of his free hand tore at the old man’s fist. Again Skid found that he couldn’t break the bum’s grip.
“Let go of me you old asshole! I’ll cut your hand off and fucking kill you if you don’t let go of me!” Skid was panicking – this guy should be a corpse, not alive and stronger than Skid – but he remembered enough to not shout. Never do anything to attract the attention of the coppers.
The old man’s voice sounded like the creaking of an ancient door, rusty and feeble but with faint hints of golden times that were so much greater. “Listen to me… please… please… Oh gods… the caves… I remember them so very well. You were so young… so innocent… so naïve and trusting… So simple – and yet you were so beautiful.”
Cloudy, dull eyes, which should have been blind, drifted to Skid’s hand and locked their feeble gaze onto the sword. “Please… You can have the sword; just listen to my story. I have to tell my story before it passes from this world. Please.”
Greed instantly overcame Skid’s panic, calming him. His hands stopped shaking and he stopped fighting the iron grip holding him down. “All right. You got three minutes. Then I got work ta do.” Fifty pounds to listen to some dying old man rant for a few minutes… hell; Skid could be generous and do him a favor. This was easily earned money for him, so why not. Besides, he was pretty sure he couldn’t break away from the hand gripping his lapel, and he didn’t want to loose his jacket.
The old man imperceptibly nodded his acknowledgement. Skid had accepted the terms so a bargain was struck.
“Thank you. You do honor to the needs of a dying old man.” Came his feeble voice. “How well I remember it all – looking at you humans in your youth. You were so weak and helpless… But you had such strong minds, willing to believe with a force even we did not posses. We decided to help you to rise above the caves – to nourish your type and give the gift of enlightenment. We saw a way to gain for ourselves a much longer life span by insuring the continuance of your race. By giving you something to focus that powerful belief on. Ah…” The man’s voice sounded pained. “How brightly the Morningstar shone for your sake. How brightly… for it was his idea to help you – and his idea how as well.”
Skid didn’t really understand what the hells this guy was talking about and finally realized that the guy was seriously deranged – a total fucking loony. He must think he was some alien or something. But then again a lot of the old farts eeking out a pitiful existence on the foggy streets of London were mostly delusional anyway. Skid shifted his weight to make himself little more comfortable and waited for the story to continue.
The old man drew a ragged breath then continued. “First came the paintings… such bright and vivid pictures… and how wondrously you sang our praises for us. But how very quickly you became clever too…”
Skid saw a tear forming in the old man’s eye. “Why? Why? You could have given us forever… and we would have given you everything you wanted… We would have gifted you everything you could ever hope for. Life immortal and every other desire your hearts had ever dreamed of…”
Skid was beginning to feel the overwhelming pressures of panic again. What if this crazy wouldn’t let go? What if he died and rigor mortis set in? He’d have to cut his fragging jacket and man it was too cold out to rip up his jacket. But again greed showed its ugly head and he managed to settle back down – after all the money made would more than pay for Skid’s troubles. He’d go ahead honor the rest of the three minutes. After all, there is a shifty type of honor amongst thieves and criminals… and by Skid’s reasoning anyone the cops hassled was a criminal – and the cops hassled the homeless more than anyone else.
The old man seemed to realize that whatever internal struggle Skid had been facing was finished. Sighing, he continued. “But you are all fickle. Even more so than us… And you had no idea what it was that you actually wanted. You’ve never known your own hearts. Oh, Morningstar I loved you so. You were brighter than any of us… brighter than all of us combined. Why did you have to die out? Oh why did you have to leave us? We needed you… Why did I have to witness you fall to a mere human?”
The man bit back a sob. He seemed to be talking to someone out of the past, someone only he could see. “You taught them to write, to read, to think. And they killed you. We guided you through your lives, your so short but so bright lives… And in the end you betrayed even us… We gave you the gift of immortality, a way to live after even death… to be a part of the universe. And you threw it away.”
Sorrow deeper than any Skid had known passed across the old man’s face “All we ever asked was your praise and love – in such a way that we could find strength and will in it. We guided your kings and princes. We led those whose love flowed most freely to the greatest victories. We allowed them to lead other men and conquer nations. They were allowed to inspire the hearts of thousands. What a small price to pay… only a year or two from each life.”
Skid felt Goosebumps crawling up the back of his spine. The last thing this guy had said… hadn’t life spans been going up over the last few centuries? This guy was really starting to creep him out. He didn’t – and couldn’t – really understand what the old man was saying. But deep down, in the tarnished soul that Skid held in nothing but contempt, the words resonated with truth – and that scared Skid even more than when the old priests had told him about the little ‘games’ they would be playing. These words scared Skid more than anything ever had.
Numbness spread throughout his brain but he heard his own voice quietly echoing in the space between them. “But what changed it all?” Some deep part of Skid’s brain seemed to be comprehending the story being told to him.
A deep chuckle came from the old man’s throat. He was seeing some grander joke in Skid’s words, but still retaining his iron grip on Skid’s collar. “One of yours did it. He shone brightly, that one did. He had the fire and passion to rival any of us – with a mind to match. He almost burned as brightly as the Morningstar himself… But young Jeshua did not understand the depths of our love or the tenderness of our compassion. He told me once that he felt like a slave – destined to live by the decree of another. He could not understand the gift we gave both him and you… We tried to teach him the ways of the universe – but the dedication we showed was invisible to him.”
The old man stopped talking and began to cough. The fit seized him and racked his entire body, rattling deeply in his lungs, but he never released his vice-like grip. The old man obviously only had a few moments left to live. Skid was so lost in the man’s words he didn’t even think to try breaking free and didn’t realize that the three minutes had elapsed.
Once the coughing fit subsided the old man hungrily sucked air into his lungs and then continued with his confusing story. “So he turned against us. He betrayed the ones who had loved him so – and we had shown him a love greater than any of you ever has or ever will know. He left us… and once he had left he used the fire and beauty of his vision to attempt to lead our children against us. The monks called him the great teacher and gifted him the title of Christos. So he led them and he taught them his warped version of the truth inherent in us… He used the very concept that we had created to benefit you – the greatest of beings who watched over all – against us. He tried to turn and warp that worship to himself, or at least away from us, to reap the rewards of ages of our workings and take it away from those that loved you all so much. He tried to destroy us to free humanity and never realized that so doing would eventually destroy humanity as well.”
The man’s voice wavered with sorrow and regret. “Oh that our most beloved son would turn against us so… The pain it caused within us all – that such beauty and tranquility in one of you could turn to such hatred and loathing upon us. It was a heartbreaking time for us… We were all so unsure of what our course of action should have been… You see, we wanted so badly to save him, but in the end we simply couldn’t.”
“We all mourned so much for him, but he left us no choice – If we were to survive we had to take his essence. It had to be done, and publicly, to stop him and his followers. It was necessary to stop him before it went too far… before he could succeed. We mourned so at doing this terrible deed, but should he have triumphed in usurping us it would have meant all of our deaths.”
The old man’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “But In the actions we took we only managed to sow the seeds of our own downfall. The Morningstar tried to save us all – he foresaw what none of us could have… He assumed our beloved son’s form three days after his death – thinking to spread a new gospel through our dead son’s disciples.”
A chill ran through Skid’s body. He was finally beginning to understand… and with his dawning comprehension a wave of nausea slid over him. His hushed voice came out barely audible and filled with a dread chill. He feared what the answer to his next question would be. “And what did the Morningstar tell the disciples… what did he tell them when he came back as Jeshua?”
The old man coughed for a moment more then refocused on Skid. “He sacrificed himself in the attempt to save the rest of us. That was what his words brought. How noble he was… but how naïve – although I suppose we all were back then. He named himself as the true evil, as the counterpart to the one we had created, hoping that fear of evil would get humanity to love the rest of us that much more… he fed himself only hatred and disgust. It was such a foolish sacrifice. How twisted and dimmed he became before he… before he finally died. He was only the dimmest of shadows compared to the intensity with which he used to shine. Even so, with corruption and hatred eating at the very essence of his being, only I amongst my kind actually outlived him.”
Tears were now running unfettered down the ancient’s face. “His last attempt at survival spawned such evil… He used the visage he assumed to twist the minds of millions and plunge the world into one of its darkest ages… to kill millions upon millions more… and he turned against the ones who were our first children. Plunging the entire world into war was not enough for him. He created camps of slaughter, trying to reap as much hatred, fear, and death as he could. In death and corruption he hoped to find the power he lost when he gave up the love of your kind to try to save the rest of us. And that much death is what ended up killing him. It almost finished me too – and I was half the world away, hiding from it all. Despite my hiding it would have killed me too, had it not been for my particular aspect… Throughout the ages I have become used to the mass death of your kind. It is why I have found the strength to continue as long as I have.”
Yet another coughing fit racked the man’s body and Skid gazed down upon him. The ancient one was standing one the threshold of death’s door. The puzzle pieces of what he was saying were finally clicking together and reaching the greatest depths of Skid’s mind and soul – and something that was not a part of him was burning deeply inside of him. Skid felt the beginnings of a sickening vertigo – a sense of loss that was coming from him – and was slowly seeping into the depths of his soul.
Hatred and rage boiled inside his twisted heart and they were slowly worming their way through his being and into his every level of consciousness. His mind was swimming and his thoughts were becoming numb – forlorn with knowledge unbearable by even the strongest man. He was slowly understanding that his greatest enemy did not exist in a way which he could wreak his vengeance.
The old man looked up through fading eyes – greed and recognition shone from behind those eyes. He began the final stretch of his tale.
“The Morningstar’s great plan failed. None of us could see past the need for love… the need for essence. It burned in us and consumed us. In a way it twisted us all. We created an image that humanity could love, and stole the love for ourselves by placing us as His seconds. But the only one of you to ever shine like one of us undid everything. For he had found such a burning hatred for our kind that it easily bested all of our love. But a few of us learned to live on the hatred instead, forsaking love, even though it only twisted and blackened us. We did it – though it drove most of those who learned how insane. The need for survival was far too great. And then the need for vengeance became to strong to forsake by dying off…”
The old man burned with an inner rage of his own and his words came out like fire, forever searing themselves into Skid’s head.
“I curse you and your kind. We loved you. For aeons we loved you. And you killed the God we made for you… you killed Him. And then you fed us nothing but hate and in the end you took even that away leaving us to die… we shall have our revenge…”
And Skid snapped.
Years of hatred and fear – years of being the underdog, forced into action by the whims of others – welled up in his spiteful little mind and took over. Ripping his jacket free he stood up, towering above the dying old man, sword raised high above his head.
The old man looked up with mutual hatred shining in his eyes and a smile crossed his face. “You’ve spent the last two thousand years killing us off and now I am the last. But I will survive… In one of you if I must!”
Spittle flew from his mouth as he rushed to get his last words out. “You alone still hate. Why? What do you live on? I must know.”
His eyes locked with Skids but found only emptiness.
And Skid brought the sword down as hard as he could. Every muscle in his young body focused into that single stroke of the sword. There was a sickening crunch as the sword sliced through skin and crushed the ribs in its way. Blood splattered over Skid and the wall he was going to tag. The blood was gold and icy to the touch. As it hit the wall frost formed around it.
Unseeing and unthinking Skid began to kick the body. Over and over again he smashed his boot into the corpse while tears streamed down his cheeks. Years of hatred, fear, and self-loathing had snapped his mind – and his innermost psychological defenses could not find a way to heal the fracturing.
Skid had walked into that alley to make the house of God his own. But now all that stood in the alleyway was an empty husk slowly filling up with something else, kicking over and over again, the tears streaming down its face the last vestiges of its humanity.
And finally the body broke down. There was no energy left to continue. It slumped to its knees and started rocking back and forth. He curled into a ball, sobbing and letting his frail human psyche try to rebirth itself.
But finally there was not even energy for that. His body shut down and he slept.
Much later he woke. It was still dark. A faint smile played across his lips. He stood up, tall and proud, lacking his usual slouch. He hefted the sword and gazed thoughtfully at it. A dim golden glow was barely visible in his pupils. Suddenly the blade burst into a bright and warm flame.
His eyes wandered to the sky as he savored his newfound essence. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, adding a rich red glow to the encompassing fog.
“I finally understand. Your fear is so great you have only apathy to survive on. Your race hides from its own passion…” He said in a voice that was not Skid’s. The figure seemed to ponder this for a moment. “Even Morningstar never foresaw this. But I can survive with this.”
And the Archangel Uriel, flame of God, the angel of transformation, stretched his new body and strode into the foggy London morning to avenge the death of his kind.
David Carradine :(
Goodbye to an amazing actor, always with a fun roll.
This was an actor that was present in the cinema that I watched throughout my life till now. Everything from Kung Fu, to Deathrace… I will miss him.
southpark!!
So, i just have to say, I’m just watching southpark reruns today, and damn, I love the show!
“Pray the gay away” is on now.
Barking Up The Wrong Tree, Pt 3, Conclusion
They were uncharacteristically silent as Josh drove them back to the storm drain that Amber had found. Each was dealing with their own thoughts, getting ready for a terrifying experience. Drew alone didn’t sit still, instead taking the time to stretch and limber up his muscles. Stripped down to just his shorts, crisscrossing lines of scars could be seen across his torso, arms, and back. It took Josh a moment to find a spot to park the Bus at, but finally they were ready. The group piled out, walking carefully and quietly over to the drain cover.
Tabitha looked around at everyone one last time. “The second you’re in the dark, I want you shifted. You’ll need your extra senses. Got it?”
Everyone nodded.
“Good. I’m going down first. Drew, pop it for me. You take rear guard.”
Drew nodded. He reached down with his right hand and grabbed the cover of the drain. His muscles seemed to ripple, his arm elongating and getting thicker as he flexed it, then the storm drain cover popped off and he was fully human again.
Amber gasped. “How the hell did you do that?”
Drew grinned wolfishly. “Later, little girl. Now’s not the time.” He grunted a little and got his shoulder under the drain cover, holding it up with his entire body.
Tabitha grinned, then got serious. “All right.” She took a deep breath. “Lets do this.” With a light splash her backpack landed in the sewer below. She tucked her knees up, and hopped in, spinning around and kicking down onto the ladder rungs, catching herself right at the lip of the entrance. “Discipline and calm kids. Keep your heads, and stay focused, okay?”
Everyone was nodding yes as something flashed in the darkness below her and she just… vanished. No scream, no noise. One second she was there, the next she wasn’t.
“Shit!” Drew threw back the cover with so much force that it dented the dumpster it crashed into. “Follow me in.” He hopped forward and was in wolf form before he landed in the sewers. The pack could hear him growling as they followed him down. As each of them reached the bottom of the ladder they shifted obediently to wolf form, except Eliot. He dropped down, slung off his backpack, and started rifling through gear.
Jenna put her nose down to try to catch Tabitha’s scent, and almost fell over whimpering when she inhaled. No scent. she growled. Can’t smell anything down here. Use your ears and eyes. Nose is a bad idea.
Drew spun around snarling as blood splattered across the rest of the pack. His left flank was torn open, but he had a vampire’s wrist in his jaws, and was jerking his head back and forth. A wolf has a jaw capable of tearing out a man’s throat in a single bite, and werewolves are even stronger than normal wolves. But Drew was fighting against supernatural strength and losing.
As the rest of the pack leapt forward to join the fight, they saw Drew’s hind leg buckle under him. The Vampire started to lunge forward, but he reversed his momentum and pulled back instead as he saw Amber’s black form come sailing over Drew. She snarled and snapped at his neck, forcing him to bring his arm up to try to deflect her, but she had purposefully overshot her jump and sailed past him.
Seizing the distraction, Jenna and Josh darted in low on his flanks, ripping gouges of muscles out of his calves. Jenna spun and darted back to protect Drew, who was pulling himself back, still snarling. Josh kept his momentum, ripping at the Vampires leg, and spinning the creature around like a top as he loped up to Amber.
The Vampire hissed, exposing its fangs, and in a barely human voice spoke. “Dogs. Eat your blood dogs. Come play dogs.” Tradition should have made the Vampire’s voice sound like the opening of an ancient crypt, or possibly cobwebs should be heard in his voice while it made spiders creep down the listener’s spine. In truth though, he sounded like a junkie in detox who got clubbed in the head; kind of a jittery loud whisper, slurred, without a lot of capability to think behind it.
His eyes kept darting back and forth as he twisted his torso to keep all four wolves in his line of sight. Looking into his eyes, the pack saw nothing but a rabid animal inside. And there was only one thing to do to a rabid animal.
Put it Down. Drew growled. Carefully though. Harry it, and don’t give it a chance to close with any of you.
Aye, aye, captain obvious. Wuffed Amber. It sounded like a sneeze, with her trying not to laugh, and was so out of place that the Vampire spun around to her, suspect an attack at his back. Josh lunged forward, ready to strike and fade. And that’s where it all went wrong.
Tactics like that only work when a creature is trying to preserve itself, but the Vampire was insane; its soul was stripped away and ripped to shreds when it had been turned and lost its mind. All that was left was a beast that was driven by hate. When Amber didn’t attack him, he charged her and Jenna instead.
Josh’s jaws closed over empty air as the Vampire took Jenna and Amber by surprise. There was a sickening crunch as his claws sunk into Jenna’s chest, ripping through her fur and muscles. He sunk his hands into her ribs and swung her around, smashing her into Josh and sending them both crashing into the sewer wall. They landed in a heap and neither moved.
While his back was exposed Amber leapt forward with a snarl and landed heavily on his back, latching her jaws around the back of his neck. He started whipping around, howling in pain, trying to dislodge her.
Drew hunkered down, getting ready to spring into the fight despite his bad leg, when a hand lightly touched his shoulder and a barely visible shadow moved forward. He paused, and the shadow moved in front of him.
“Hey, asshole.” Eliot’s voice floated calmly through the darkness. “Don’t ever touch my friends again.” There were two clicks as the triple cell black-lights he was holding in each hand sprang to life. The Vampire screamed and fell to its knees sobbing, his skin starting to smolder and the torn up clothes he was wearing bursting into flame, finally lighting the underground battlefield. Amber sprang back off of him. The Vampire slumped forward and fell face first into the water, his life-force drained, burnt out of him.
The wolves didn’t have time to relax though, before Tabitha’s limp form came hurling out of the darkness behind Amber and smashed into Eliot, shattering the black-lights.
A woman’s voice, rich and deep, obviously used to laughter, came rolling out of the darkness. “Oh well done, my pretties. I didn’t expect you to be able to take my pet so easily. Yet you managed. I must applaud the elder.” The voice sighed. “How she has aged. Those delicate young features lining with age. If only she had my secret.” Laughter drifted down the dark sewer.
Amber backed up, hackles raised, till she was poised between Drew and Eliot. Eliot wasn’t paying attention to the voice, focused instead on getting Tabitha settled and checking her vitals. He found a heartbeat, which seemed to be enough for him, then he stood up, pulling a gun out of his pocket. Dull oranges and reds highlighted the passageway, a flickering dance of macabre light from the smoking remains of the feral Vampire. Without a word he pulled the massive chrome monstrosity to shoulder height and started squeezing the trigger.
Burps of flame flashed in the tunnel as he shot bullets at the source of the voice, slowly walking forward. The gun clicked empty and he dropped the clip, slapping another into its place in under a second and continuing to fire.
Amber sprang forward to his side, man and wolf calmly walking forward, towards the voice. Tabitha’s voice sounded weak, but she struggled up and said “Stop. She’ll kill you.”
The Vampire woman’s voice cut through the darkness like a katana through silk. “Oh, pet, you are ruining my fun.” There was a blur in the edge of the ember glow, and two wet thuds. Eliot and Amber went flying backwards, bouncing off the tunnel walls and landing in broken heaps behind Tabitha. Drew growled and limped forward.
The elder vampire woman was finally standing in the light, languidly relaxing in by the crisped remains of her feral companion. She was about five foot five, but carried such a presence that she seemed to fill the murky corridor from floor to ceiling. Dark hair cascaded in lavish curls down her pale, heart shaped face, and the rich velvet red an black gown Victorian gown she wore seemed to glow with the power that surrounded her.
With an elegant gesture of her hand, the corpse at her feet simply slid to the side, clearing a path between her and the two elder werewolves. She crooked a finger and beckoned to Drew. “Come child, lets dance, shall we?”
Drew was only too happy to oblige her, spring from his crouch with a snarl. She reached out, lightning fast, to catch him by the throat, but his form rippled in midair. He snaked his head out of the way, reached forward with an arm and landed a vicious slice with half formed claws across her chest. But then her hand was clamped around his wrist, pushing him to the ground until he was kneeling before her.
Glancing down at her shredded gown, fangs poked her bottom lip as she frowned. Twenty feet away Tabitha was struggling to get to her feet. The vampire’s elegant gown was ruined, hanging in strips from her waist. She sighed. “And this was a brand new gown too. Do you know how expensive it is to get my wardrobe crafted these days? Insolent pup? Still…”
Drew looked up through the pain and noticed her nipples were erect. This was obviously exciting her. “Who the hell are you?” he gasped.
“I, sir,” She smiled languidly. “am her Excellency, niece to the King of Poland, Countess Elizabeth Bathory. And you… well, as I like to say, Vini, Vidi, Vita Vaci.” The countess swept her left hand up across Drew’s torso and chest. Blood sprayed against the walls on either side of them. A gurgle escaped Drew’s throat as he slumped to the ground.
Tabitha had managed to pull herself up. “Do you really see yourself as Caesar? I came, I saw, I took life?”
“Oh dear no. Caesar was a small minded, cruel little man who tried to make up for great insecurity with great feats of conquering. I am a force of nature. An immortal. Its just a little affectation of mine. But you. You get to live again.”
Holding on to pipe bolted high on the wall, Tabitha narrowed her eyes. “Why me, bitch?”
“Oh, you are just so cute I could eat you up. Of course, that wouldn’t help in keeping you alive to feel your pain, now would it?”
Tabitha was thankful that Bathory was evil. A good hearted person wouldn’t have talked, wouldn’t have gloated, and wouldn’t have given her a chance to gather her willpower together.
“Tabitha, your blood is the answer. Your line. If you go back in the family tree, you will discover that you are of the same blood as Istvan Magyari.” She practically spat the name. “That fool minister was the sole reason I lost my estate and was imprisoned in that damned tower. If it hadn’t been for my dear friend Vladimyr, I most likely would have died in there.”
She delicately wiped Drew’s blood off her face. “It is for his sins that you pay. As will your descendants. You will die alone, as I extinguish any life that comes too close to your own.”
Bathory stopped walking forward and the two women were face to face, with maybe five feet separating them. Tabitha focused as she saw the Countess’s eyes start to swirl, red and lavender. Tension ripped at her shoulders forcing her hands apart. She recognized the feeling, and knew that they were sharing mindspace, battling with will alone.
But old dogs can learn new tricks… This time, as Tabitha felt the wood of the crucifix scrape roughly against her back, she fed the fire. All of her hate, all of her sorrow, everything that had built a lifetime of pain she fed to the fire. And it burned. It burned like nothing in the real world could, consuming the pain, consuming the hatred, consuming the weariness… until all that was left was steel, forged in a mind of power, by an opposing will.
Tabitha snapped open her eyes and smiled. Bathory reeled back, shocked by having her will resisted. Human arms, augmented by lycanthrope strength, snapped forward, and claw tipped finger closed like a vice around Countess Bathory’s throat.
The Countess, in turn, realized that she wouldn’t get back into Tabitha’s mind, so returned the favor and started choking her. The two were locked in a struggle to see who would go unconscious first. Both were doing their best to crush the other’s throat.
“I’m impressed, child.” Gasped the Countess. “But you can’t win this. Vampires can retain consciousness in much more dire circumstances.”
Not.. Fucking… Fair… Thought Tabitha, as her vision started to swim and go black around the edges. Can’t end… like… this…
A boy’s voice, dripping with a heavy British accent, one she didn’t recognize, came from behind Countess Bathory. “And so it shan’t, noble werewolf.” Three feet of steel ripped through her chest and burst into flame. The Vampire shrieked, blood flying from her mouth. She leapt forward, bowling over Tabitha and away from the threat behind her.
Tabitha looked up. Surrounded by the faintest golden nimbus was… a boy. He was dressed street punk, had a shaved head, and couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old.
The Countess hissed at him. “You!” She spat. “How dare you interrupt? I will seek you, ambusher, and I will kill you!” As suddenly as he had appeared, she was gone, without a trace.
The boy sniffed the air. “The stench is gone. She has departed. Your pack will need medical attention. Lucky for you, she wanted to save their killings until you were enthralled, to leave the mark of their deaths on you, eh?” He reached down and offered a hand to help her up.
She blinked. “Who.. what.. wha.. the…”
He smiled impishly and sheathed his sword in a dusty looking old scabbard hanging under his London Fog trench coat. “I’m Skid. Shall we skip the formalities until we have your friends under the lord’s sky?”
Around them, groaning, the pack started to get to their collective feet, nursing injuries as they pulled themselves up. She took his hand. “Yes. And… Thank you, Skid.”
Barking Up The Wrong Tree, pt 2
Eliot walked over to the fridge, grabbing a beer, while everyone settled in to listen. Drew stalked over to the closet, pulling it open, and angrily started packing survival kits while Eliot lounged against the kitchen’s separator ledge.
“It was back in nineteen seventy three. I was nineteen years old. My pack… they were fierce warriors. Fiercer than you can imagine. We numbered eleven strong, all trained warriors, when we came across the Vampire. It was… a continuation of an older fight. In retrospect, I suppose I should start with that first fight; at the beginning of the story as I know it.
You see, three of my elders had spent time over in Germany during World War Two, and that was when the feud began. Seven of my elders were in the war, all in the same regiment, and near the end of the war; when allied troops were pushing hard into Germany; they came across this little town up in the mountains. Can you imagine an entire town that looks like the leftover sets from a B slasher flick? It was a bloodbath.
This vampire, supposedly turned by Vlad Tepes himself, was openly feeding on the citizens, and those all left alive were… broken, inside the head. They were people, but they acted like Renfield from the novel Dracula. Eating bugs, laughing at petty cruelties, and being driven by their basest instincts; what was left was the shell of humanity. Frothing at the brain – that’s how they talked about them. So they challenged the vampire, tried to save what they could from that evil influence.”
Tabitha frowned. “Of seven packmates, only three walked out alive and came back from that town.”
She shook her head. “When I was a pup that story always frightened me. When I got a bit older… it motivated me to train harder, though it was hard to believe. And it’s lucky for me that it did, even though it didn’t really matter. She caught back up with us.”
Drew motioned towards the kitchen and caught Eliot’s eye. The younger man nodded, then tossed the lanky older fighter a can of Fosters.
Tabitha wiped a tear from her eye and continued. “Fighting a Vampire like that is… well, its nothing you guys are ready for. When you battle a non Feral you have to fight their willpower. They push into you head, they rape your thoughts, and they try to turn your own minds against you. The longer they’ve been around, the better they are at it, and the stronger their willpower is. Ferals are weak in comparison. You just have to fight the beast. Well, when she caught up to us, we had no idea she was coming, and before I had even shifted, both of my brothers were dead. We had been sitting around a beach fire, enjoying the Ocean. There was a light mist, and then she was just there and blood was flying everywhere.”
Jenna, always empathic, was openly crying. Josh was pale and just said. “Jesus.”
Amber chewed her lip and raised her eyebrows questioningly towards Tabitha.
Tabitha smiled sadly. “No Amber, I’ll finish the story. I don’t want to relive these memories just to tell you all the story another time so you can hear the ending. We fought her. We fought with everything we had, every trick we knew. And one by one we all died. I think she left me alive because I was the youngest. Here are the final moments I remember. My Father, Raymond, was in front of me, attacking her. She caught him by the muzzle, then sank her fangs into his neck while staring me in he eye. Her eyes went this weird swirly red and violet color, and I couldn’t move a muscle while I watched her drain my dad. Then… The world just melted away, like a Salvador Dali painting. I felt something rip through my hands and feet, pulling me apart. Like I was being crucified. And then I was burning, on fire, stretched out on a cross in my mind. I woke up from that nightmare almost a month later, in a state hospital.”
Tabitha’s voice, dripping sorrow, suddenly drew back, and like he tide revealing the beach, all at once there was steel there. “You will DIE if you seek vengeance against the Vampires. We are half the strength and nowhere near the skill of my elders. What we do is clean up their messes, and keep the average people of our land safe. This is the Lore, and the Law can be damned. Do you understand?”
Shocked by the sudden swing in words, the pack all just nodded. Drew grinned to himself as he polished off his beer. Jenna twined her fingers through Josh’s and whispered to him “She’s scary. Just when you think you’ve found the softest part of her, she turns into a rock.”
Josh rubbed her back, but watched Tabitha. “You never even said her name, Tabs.”
“That is because you don’t need to know it. Even if you did, it would only give you false ideas that you could research her and find a way to beat her. Which you cannot.”
Eliot chuckled, and everyone turned to look at him. “Don’t worry. We’re not stupid. Just protective of you.”
Tabitha nodded. As usual, on the rare occasion you caught him talking, Eliot had something useful to say. “The duty of protection is mine not yours young ones. I am the elder, and the reader of the Lore.” She glanced at Amber. “For now anyway. And i will protect you. I love you all the more, my pups, for being the way you are though. If that suffices for everyone, I suggest we stop burning daylight and get ready to kill an undead.”
A chorus of ‘yes, mam’ reverberated around the room, and the wolf pack finished getting ready. Each member ended up with a loose backpack on. The backpacks themselves had an odd design to accommodate for emergencies that only a werewolf would have to deal with. The shoulder straps were segmented with several strips of elastic on each side, making them immediately flexible. Once they were done, the whole crew piled out of the condo and headed back to the VW Bus.
Barking Up The Wrong Tree; GTT Character Sketch Pt. 1
Barking up the wrong tree
The storm drain overflow valve was well hidden by cattails, long summer grass, and the shadow of the overpass. Despite being a six foot wide pipe, few people realized it was there, concealed as it was. A glint of movement, the barest whisper of a shadow in the darkness stirred, watching the pedestrian area in the reservoir. Six figures were gathered there. Four were in a circle, playing hackey sack; two younger men, a middle aged man, and a young woman. Sitting in the grass by them were two women, one young and the other looked young, but had hair starting to go silver.
The watcher in the drain smile, and barely visible in the black was the glint of fangs. Half a block away a group of policemen were investigating a murder. The watcher knew that the six people were there for the same reason. It had taken them too long to catch up, but their time was finally at hand. A teenaged boy, rocking out to his iPod, strolled by the drain cover. He paused, watching the hackey circle, smiled, and kept walking down the reservoir. Once he had passed by, the shadow in the drain had vanished.
Pop. Pop. Pop. Josh flicked the hackey sack easily from foot to foot, not really paying attention to it. Between hundreds of hours spent playing hackey sack, and the far superior reflexes a werewolf had, keeping the little bead filled sack in the air was a thoughtless activity. With a deft flick of his ankle he sent it sailing over to Jenna, who was munching on a bagel while playing.
None of the Pack, as they thought of themselves, were here for the hackey sack. It was just a convenient cover for them. Something to do while they all listened to what was happening almost half a block away. Werewolves tend to have very good hearing; and that was the real reason they were down here playing. It was a hot and muggy summer day, especially down here by the Cherry Creek reservoir, and not a one of them wouldn’t have rather been in air conditioning or swimming in a lake somewhere… which is where most people with an iota of common sense were. No one likes being a human dartboard for badly aimed mosquitoes.
But duty had called, and there isn’t an answering machine to catch the call when a bloodsucking fiend is randomly ripping out throats of innocent bystanders in , and there isn’t an answering machine to catch the call when a bloodsucking fiend is randomly ripping out throats of innocent bystanders in your city. Josh slapped down, squishing a mosquito, then idly scratched at his knee, hiking up his long hemp shorts to expose it. The little buggers got everywhere.
“It’s the third one this month.” Came a man’s voice as the conversation down the road started back up again.
Another, slightly deeper, voice replied. “So, Haskins, it looks like we have a serial killer on our hands. I was hoping to avoid this.” The speaker sighed so audibly that the Pack could almost hear his shoulders slumping and his head shaking. “I hate cases dealing with twisted pieces of work like this. What you thinking, Rick?”
“I’m thinking we better catch this guy fast. How long you think before the media catches wind of this Jack?”
Josh watched the Hack get passed from Jenna to Drew. The leaner, slightly older werewolf was grimacing, with his head tilted to one side. He had been in enough scraps and taken enough damage to his body that he had to focus a little harder to catch what was happening up the street. The scar that ran down his right ear and halfway across his cheek had guaranteed that he would always have to focus a bit to hear as well as the others.
The deeper voiced detective up by the police cars sighed again. “I hope they don’t. Of course, that would be too good to be true. They always find out too fast, and I’m sure someone somewhere is already getting a few bucks for tipping off someone else. Way of the world. They’re vultures. I’ve been keeping the channels clear on this but haven’t actually red filed it yet. Hopefully it’ll slip through the cracks between all the other high profile cases”
Haskins chuckled grimly. “Smart move. Lets see if it works, lemme know on that. Here comes Angela.”
A third voice, female, contributed to the conversation. “Sergeant, Detective. Enjoying the sun, boys? I have some of the preliminary results back. Cause of death is suffocation, I think. Ribcage was partially crushed and both lungs collapsed. Victim was dead of asphyxiation before blood loss; pretty sure on that one. Corpse was definitely moved; that one is based on the low volume of blood here at the scene. Whatever took her throat out did it post flat-line, splatter patterns under the jaw indicate that it was a close second though…
“Lesse here… Its an odd one, for sure. Looks like an animal wound, but no dentition marks to speak of found in the wound… Definitely the same weapon as the other two. I’ll have to get her in the lab and on the slab though, if you want anything more than that.”
“All right, thanks Jones. Haskins, I’ll call you when I hear something. Thanks for coming out. Jones, bag the DOA. Coroner is on the way already. And let me know the second you come up with anything.”
Drew scooped the hackey sack out of the air and tossed it Josh. Everyone in the circle looked over to the two women sitting about five feet away. One was older, with reddish hair going silver. But her hair was the only indication that she was in her fifties. Her muscles were strong and sleek, and her skin smooth. She had a large book in her lap and was just looking up from it. The woman, only in her early twenties, was sitting cross legged across from her, with the folds of her black skirt folded carefully into her lap. Her hands, showcased by a pair of leather bracers that sat oddly on her forearms, were primly placed on top of the dress. Long, naturally black hair, cascaded down her back, and her lips were parted in a slight grin. She was the older woman’s disciple in a way, and had the greatest control of her lycanthropy of the Pack.
Josh softly cleared his throat as he looked to the older woman. “Tabitha? Are we done here?”
She stood up, closing the book. “Yes. Its definitely one of them. It will have gone to ground during the daylight hours. We need the cops out of here before we can pick up the trail. Unless…” Tabitha chewed her bottom lip.
Drew popped his knuckles. “Tabs, these guys don’t know how to deal with this. You sure you want a feral to be their first real hunt?”
“Drew, I don’t see that we have much choice. There is a feral in town, its just going to keep killing till someone takes it down. And you know as well as I do that if its the cops that catch up to it, a lot of people will die and it might still get away.”
Drew grunted. “Goddamned Vampires, leaving messes like this for us to clean up.”
“You are both such… well, I don’t know. But grow some balls.” Amber, who had been sitting with Tabitha, dropped her shirt to the ground and stood stark naked in front of everyone, with that same impish grin on her lips. She quickly darted up the hill, black hair streaming out behind her, and by the time she was up at street level, she looked like a black furred wolf.
Tabitha growled under her breath, then spun back to the pack. “Dammit, we DON’T take risks like that. Eliot, lost dog it. GO!”
One of the other players from the hackey sack circle, a tall and darkly handsome man, nodded once. Reaching over to the group’s ice chest he pulled out a collar and leash, then jogged up from the reservoir.
Josh pushed his sandy blond hair out of his eyes and started to pack up the water bottles and other ‘out hanging’ paraphernalia the group had distributed. “Jenna, could you grab Amber’s clothes?”
Jenna snapped back out of whatever she had been thinking, pulled her sarong up a bit, and knelt down to collect Amber’s hastily discarded outfit. Tabitha and Drew were off to the side quietly arguing. “Yeah, sorry Josh. I was just thinking.. you know… Its really messed up that vamps leave their cubs like that.”
Josh nodded as he picked up the ice chest. “Yeah, it is. But i was reading some of the stuff Tabitha left at our place, and its not all of them. Its like, one can’t cope, you know, and goes crazy. So the older ones let it go get itself killed. But, like, the ones that don’t go schizoid get nurtured and stuff.”
“Its just so… heartless. So cruel.”
“Jenna. They’re vampires. They suck blood and kill to stay alive.”
“But Josh, that doesn’t mean they don’t have hearts, it just means they have a harder life. There’s good in everything if you dig deep enough.”
“Yeah, but for vampires, they get the goodness sucked out of them at Birth, you know?”
Tabitha clapped, once. “Alright kids. Go time. We can debate nature versus nurture some other time. Right now, one of our own has done something stupid, so we have to seize the opportunity while trying to protect her.”
Josh was trying not to grin. He was pretty sure no one else was stilll focused on listening to what was happening up the street… But what he heard was Eliot saying “No Amber! Bad Dog! Get off the officer’s leg. I’m so sorry sir. She gets like this during the summers. DOWN AMBER!”
He snorted once, and choked down the laugh. “Alright. I’m like, ready and stuff.”
The remaining four hiked up the small hill to the other side of the reservoir, where Josh’s VW Bus was parked and piled into it.
The blue van, along with its dozens of Grateful Dead, Phish, and Pot Leaf stickers pulled out into the street and headed around the reservoir. Drifting on tones of liquid bliss from inside the van you could just hear ‘and I’ll see you on the dark side of..” cut off by Tabitha’s voice. “Focus children. You need your ears.”
A few blocks and about fifteen minutes later Eliot walked up to the van, leading Amber by collar and leash. The two hoped into the side door, and Drew poked his head out for a second. “All clear.” he said as he pulled his head back in and slid the door shut. “Any luck?” The Van pulled away from the curb, headed back to Josh’s apartment which was only about five minutes away.
Eliot just grunted and nodded towards Amber as she shifted back to her human form. “Ask her.”
Amber grinned as she struggled back into her clothes, and paused for a second to tweak Drew’s cheek. “Jinkies Fred! I followed the scent all the way a storm drain cover, and then it vanished underground. I think its a clue!”
Drew just frowned and Amber. “Crap. That’s not good.”
Jenna looked back from the passenger seat. “Why? Is it using the sewers to get around town? Are we going to have to try to track it through.. oh, ewwwww….” The light dawned on her as she realized what they might have to track it through.
Tabitha grimaced also. “No. Its living down there, not traveling through it. It’ll probably be within three hundred feet of the entrance.”
“What’s the problem then?” Josh glanced at the review mirror to see everyone else. “We just, like, pop down now. Nail it while its asleep. Easy fight.”
“Eager to die today Josh?”
“What do you mean, Drew?”
Tabitha mumped and spoke up. “Hush boys. What Drew is trying to say is that going in there right now is a very dangerous idea. It probably wont be asleep.”
Eliot’s brows wrinkled in confusion, but it was Josh that spoke up. “Wait. I thought all vamps, you know, like, passed out during the day.”
Tabitha shook her head. “No more than werewolves have to wait till a full moon to change. I know most of you guys can’t control the change that well yet, but Amber is learning fast, as you all know. Why should Vampires be stuck to folklore rules when we aren’t?”
Jenna shook her head. “But wait. We have to study and practice to get that type of control. You mean Vampires don’t?”
Amber grinned “You mean you guys have to study, slowpokes.” She stuck out her tongue and waggled her fingers in her ears, but no one seemed to notice. They were all used to getting sassed by her.
This time it was Drew that answered. “Not for a feral. A normal Vamp, yeah. But ferals are different. The beast controls them, and there is barely anything left there that could be called human. Ferals can do things that most vamps can’t do for the first couple years or decades of their lives.” he paused for a moment, thinking the situation through. “We have to hit during the day though. If we wait till tonight, it might move to a different hidey hole, then we have to wait for another killing or a lot of good luck.”
Tabitha nodded. “Unfortunately, I agree. At least its in the dark and the kids will be able to change.”
The pack was silent for the next couple moments, as they finished the drive to Josh’s apartment, where the fighting gear had been left. Even Amber was quiet and introspective. As they swung off of Hampden avenue and into Josh’s condo complex, the pack seemed to come to an unspoken agreement. This needed to be done, and there was no one else to do it.
As they piled into Josh’s condo, Amber brushed her hair back out of her eyes, and chewed her lip, debating something internally. Finally she opened her mouth and just spat it out. “Tabitha. I have to ask.” She flopped down onto a bean bag and looked up at her mentor. “We all know that your pack was killed by vampires… but you’ve never told us the story. And since we’re about to fight one of these things… I kind of want to know if this is a vengeance kick for you or what?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Broke in Drew.
Tabitha frowned slightly to herself. “No, its a valid question.” She sighed and motioned to the various bean bags and ergonomic chairs around the room. “Go ahead and pull up seats. Amber is right, my motivation is important. Its part of what I’m trying to teach you guys. At your center, you have to be calm. Be the eye of the storm. It’s like being at the center of a seesaw. on either side things moving, while you sit at that pivot point. If I am going into this bent on vengeance, it will endanger all of you. So, I’m going to tell you a story, and let you decide.”
****Tune In Tomorrow for pt 2 of the werewolves Introduction; ‘Barking up the worng tree.’****
Rick Haskins, Pt 2 of 2, GTT character sketch
And now the thrilling conclusion!!
Haskins grinned impishly. “Yeah.. well.. I heard. I had to swap a shift and break a few traffic laws to get to be the on call for this. You know how much I love reading mystery books.”
Hayes chuckled. Yeah, I do. I’m not surprised you pulled favors for this. So, you’re the lead. Sorry, D.A. asked for me on it, I’ll try not to step on your toes.”
The grizzled Sergeant nodded. “Don’t worry about it. Lets just start with you bringing me up to speed on this mess. The labtechs get anything off the DOA yet?”
Hayes glanced back. “Nope. It’s a forensic nightmare. Carpets are waterlogged, but no foot prints. No prints. Nothing under the fingernails. No hair… just… a blank scene.”
Haskins tugged at his moustache and thought for a second. “But the room was so tightly sealed that you had to blow one of the doors off. Hrmph.” He looked Jack in the eye. “Alright. I’m ready. Start at the beginning.”
Hayes reached up and rubbed his neck as he thought about where to start. It had obviously been a long day for him. “Alright. First off, security company called in the DOA. Mountains had his company set to call a friend in the DA’s office if his house triggered the ‘dead man’ code. Which is why you got called last.’
“Dead Man’s code?”
Hayes nodded. “Yeah. You know those microchips in pets that have all their information on the? Well, the DOA has one of those microchips too. This entire house, all of his cars, and his offices are wired as receivers. They detect motion, they start scanning. They pick up on his microchip and they start biometrics scans, monitoring heartbeat, stuff like that. So if he has an accident, or is under stress, or one of a thousand other little things, and the building he is in sends a specialized code to his security company. They reported two heartbeats coming into this room, with the DOAs stopping at seven twenty two p.m., and the second one vanishing from this room about six minutes later.”
“Did the house track where the second one went?”
“No. Rick, you don’t get it. It vanished. It didn’t leave. Let me explain the security protocols, and Mountains’ particular brand of psychosis. Maybe he watched his own movies too much, but he was paranoid as all hell. Every room in everything he owns is set up with ‘dead man’s’ booby traps. He was convinced that a demon from one of his early movies was hunting him. I found out from the company that he paid them a lot of money make sure that only they, his butler, and he knew that juicy little tidbit. Anyway, the fear of the demon made him design a very special setup. Each room goes into instant lockdown if his heart stops. Hydraulic driven bars through doors, etcetera, etcetera.”
Hayes briefly motioned to the door that had been removed with explosives. “But the intention was to keep people out as well as in. Can’t unseal it from either side. He had a reason for this. Sixty seconds after his heart stopped, if the biometrics didn’t come back on line, the room’s hermetically sealed air supply starts to pump vaporized Holy Water into the room until there is enough volume that every surface is covered and there’s a decent amount free floating.”
Haskins had to fight to choke down the laughter. A picture was starting to form in his mind and he didn’t want to break it before it had time to finish coming together. “So you mean to say that he wasn’t trying to trap a killer… he was trying to keep authorities out long enough for the house to kill a Demon?”
“Nailed it in one,” Jack sighed. “And you can forget the ‘throw the dagger from the door and run’ scenario because the room’s biometrics recorded the second heartbeat’s vanishing almost five minutes after the lockdown. So, Rick… as you can see there’s no one here. No dead Demon. And a Dead man found in a perfectly locked room.”
Haskins nodded. “This is gorgeous. No footprints. No fingerprints. No hair. Ha. You’ll need a miracle to solve this. Did you check the suits of armor?”
Hayes jerked a thumb at the closest suit of armor. “Yeah. No dice there for two reasons. One, they’re all glued together and you can’t pull them apart. Two, the security company says you’d need a heavy duty gel to make a heartbeat vanish. And since none of the suits are dripping, it’s a safe bet they’re empty. We did check for joint squeeze on them all also.”
Haskins leaned back against the wall and lost himself in thought. Another Idea sparked. “What about the secret passages in the house?”
Jack blinked. “How the hell did you… No, never mind. Security and blueprints show five secret passages. But none of them hook up to this room.”
“Didn’t think so, but I had to check.”
While Haskins kept reassembling the puzzle in his head, the rookie from downstairs walked into the room, brandishing a twenty dollar bill like it was a shield. He held it out to Haskins. “Sarge, you were right about the food in the kitchen. At least its normalish down there though. Up here its like walking through an x rated episode of Scooby Doo.”
Hayes raised a questioning eyebrow at Haskins as he snagged the twenty. “Thanks, rooksticks. It is, isn’t it. Oh…” Haskins realized his intuition had been right and started laughing. The laugh picked up momentum until he was clutching at his sides and gasping for air. He looked up through an ear to ear grin, while the other two men just stared at him, confused.
Sucking in his breath, he finally managed to clamp down on the laughter. “Oh god, that’s rich. Its right in front of you Jack, and you all missed it. Let me make a guess at something here. You’ve already checked in with his legal staff, and since he doesn’t have family, all his money is willed to various staff that work for him right?”
Hayes nodded. “Yeah Rick… But that doesn’t solve the murder; it just gives us a suspect list.”
“Actually, it does. God, he got you guys good. I may have to go back and watch his movies now, because this is just far too clever.”
Jack blinked in annoyance. “Excuse me?”
“Think, Jack! He was a master of suspense! Stop look at the forensics. Stop looking for the who done it. Stop being a cop for a minute and think like a horror movie director. You have to find the surprise twist if you want to figure this one out. Get it yet?”
Hayes chewed his lip for a moment then shrugged. “Sorry, no. Explain please?”
“Ha. Alright, here’s your first clue, Jack. He concocted the whole demon story. It was a trap – for you. He wanted to box the police and the security company into a specific way of thinking just to get revenge on whoever killed him. He knew this was coming, bet you anything you find death threats in a safe, or a desk, or something. I think he even figured out who was coming for him. So he made up this whole thing, and the killer is sitting in the room with us right now. Don’t you get it?
“He set this up so that if the killer DID get to him, they’d have to go through their own personal hell, a horror movie of his devising, listening to us and praying to god that we wouldn’t figure it out. And he set up the whole thing by making you think that he was having paranoid delusions; just to throw you off the scent of what’s really happening here.”
Again all Jack could do was blink and say “Excuse me?”
Haskins reached up and clamped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Think it through. Locked room. No windows. Sixty seconds till water is introduced to the room’s closed system. Yet there are no footprints… which means that by the time the water settled onto the fabric – the killer was immobile.”
Hayes looked around. “So someone is in this room with us, but dead? How do you explain the heartbeat vanishing otherwise?”
Haskins glanced around. “Easy. The killer knew the security setup, otherwise he’d already be nabbed and in cuffs. And the killer’s motive was money. Otherwise why use the dagger off the plinth to kill him? He made it look like a botched robbery. You said a motive, but you missed one thing. Only one person could have known about the will and the security setup. There was one important fact missing from the killer’s knowledge. Suits of armor are usually held together by a wireframe.. and all Mountains had to do to build the perfect prison was grind powdered glue onto the edges and joints of the suits of armor.”
Hayes’ eye lit up and he slowly nodded. “Oh lord that is devious.”
Sergeant Haskins nodded. “It sure is. The killer locked himself into his own prison. As soon as the holy water was pumped into the room, all the suits of armor got glued together – and the glue doubled as the gel to hide the heartbeat! The killer’s clever hiding spot becomes a prison, and he’s listening to us right now. And since only one person could have known both those details about the will and security.. wha-la! The damned Butler did it! And you’ll find him as soon as you grab a blowtorch and start cutting up the suits of armor.”
Jack’s eyes went wide and the entire forensics team hurried over as the suit of armor next them coughed and said in an affected British accent. “Um, burning me up won’t be necessary. I give myself up. But.. please.. hurry up? He lined the inside of the suits of armor with the glue too and I’m having trouble breathing…
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