(The following post is the exact text for a short story that will be appearing in an anthology of online writers called *.fiction. The editor is Scott McKenzie, who can be found at this blog site: www.stardotfiction.blogspot.com. This story is based on the prior posts comprising the South Beach Diet series of posts--you can find the original series of posts in the November 2006 archives of this site--November 15-30, 2006 When the book is available, further information on how to get a copy will be posted and provided at that point. Until then, enjoy the story. More original posts are due over the next week.)
South Beach Slayer
I stood high above the crowd below, hidden from curious eyes by darkness and distance in my rooftop perch. From this spot, I could watch both the pulsating crowd below and the wide, nearly empty stretch of sand and waves known collectively as South Beach.
I wasn’t here to enjoy the sights and sounds of South Beach. This was a hunting trip.
There was a very prolific, very sick serial killer loose on South Beach. This unknown killer had killed four young people on four consecutive nights and left their bodies ripped open and splayed out on the beach to be discovered in the morning. Each body had been missing at least one vital organ.
Somehow, in one of the busiest nightspots in the United States, each victim had been killed, laid out on the beach, and been at least partially eaten all without any witnesses who were willing to come forward. The killings had continued even as the police presence had been doubled after the second killing and redoubled again after the third. The local authorities were at their wits end. That was when they called on the FBI to do something.
The fourth killing took place despite the presence of nearly twenty undercover FBI agents blanketing the most popular nightspots and a very sophisticated surveillance project that had been hastily put into place all over the area. The media was now crawling all over the story and the whole region was seemingly in the grip of panic over the lack of any progress on finding this mysterious, cannibalistic killer who had been named the South Beach Slayer by an enterprising news anchorman.
This was the fifth night.
The Bureau was desperate to put a stop to these gruesome murders. One of their best profilers, Agent Jennifer Wilson, had told them that this killer was something more than human. That’s when the decision was made to call on the Bureau’s only agent who also happened to be something more than human…or, as I preferred to think of it, formerly human.
Before I get much further, however, a brief introduction is called for. I am Agent Rusty Bones. I was a street cop from Dearborn Hills, Michigan who was killed in the line of duty. I was brought back to this…unlife…because I had also been a participant in a formerly secret (and definitely evil) government program called the Omega Project that sought to reunite the souls of slain subjects with newly enhanced bodies in an effort to show that it was indeed possible to create immortal super soldiers. I was the lone success of the project-- and its biggest failure-- since I subsequently helped to shut the thing down. I don’t quite think of myself as an immortal super soldier, but I do benefit from the fact that I can’t be killed. I have also acquired a few other special abilities that have been useful from time to time.
Seeing nothing of note moving on the beach, I turned my gaze towards the crowd below. While most sensible people were sensibly tucked away in their homes, there was still a sizable core of young, rich daredevils of all ethnicities gathered beneath me. They were partying with reckless abandon that I found quite amusing. There was a tension in the air that was palpable. These were the type of people who would throw a party on the eve of Armageddon.
From this distance I could pick out the undercover police officers and FBI agents as they mingled through the crowd looking for any likely suspects. The Slayer wouldn’t be so easily spotted. If Agent Wilson’s profile was to be believed, the Slayer was a doppelganger—a mythical creature that could change shape at will, exactly mimicking its victim.
I unfocused my eyes and shifted my vision from this world so that I could survey the scene below in the Shadowland—a separate dimension that parallels the physical world that you are already familiar with, but where the spirits of both the living and the dead are visible to those who can access it.
In this view, the police officers and undercover agents were even more distinct from the more colorful, inebriated spirits of all those potential victims. The spirits of the law enforcement officers were less colorful, more subdued in their hues, focused and vigilant.
There! About halfway down the block at a small, open-air sidewalk café, I caught a glimpse of someone, or better yet, something that was out of place. It was a small, dark spirit that seemed oddly out of place. As soon as I tried to lock my gaze on it, it slipped away into a thronging mass of spirits that obscured my sight. I was going to have to get closer. It seemed to sense me almost as soon as I saw it.
I slipped back into normal vision long enough to get a fix on the place and called the Shadow.
The cool, comforting darkness of the Shadow surrounded me. Using my will, I shaped It into a portal and stepped through.
I emerged from the Shadow in a side alley. I stopped at the mouth of the tight space for a moment to take in the festive scene from my new vantage point—pounding music, snarled traffic, pulsing neon lights, and a gyrating crowd of underdressed people of all races, genders and orientations milling about in their desperate searches for excitement and hook-ups.
A young woman in a skimpy bikini top and a multi-colored skirt stumbled into the dark alley and retched onto the ground right at my feet. She looked up from my puke spattered boots, staggering up to one knee. “Hey buddy, whatcha doin’ back here?” As her eyes traveled upward from my boots, her eyes grew wide. She got up quickly and stumbled off to rejoin her friends.
I stepped over a puddle of fermented vomit, emerging from the comfort of the shadow. I joined the pulsating stream of tense human sexuality that was the South Beach night life. I started towards that open-air café where I had seen that strange spirit.
If the dress code of the partying crowd was any indication, it was about 80 degrees and humid out. Even the bikini-clad gals and the bare-chested young studs were shiny with beaded sweat. I was, of course, the lone exception. I was wearing a lightweight, black windbreaker over a loose black sweatshirt. My sturdy jeans were properly distressed while my heavy black steel-toed work boots were brand new. I wasn’t used to being this exposed.
While preening, inebriated minnows darted and dodged all around me, I was the trolling, brooding shark seeking bigger, more dangerous prey.
I switched my vision back into the Shadowland so that I could scan the crowd easier for that spirit. I had gotten pretty good in the last year at moving my body through the physical world while keeping my vision primarily in the Shadowland. Compared to the kaleidoscope of colors of the Shadowland, the neon signs and Art Deco décor of the physical South Beach was almost bland and boring.
It wasn’t long before I caught a second glimpse of that strange spirit again. It stood out from the large cluster of younger, brighter spirits gathered outside of a particularly flashy nightclub just down the street from the café. It was a darker, smaller form than those of most humans, and it felt my presence as I honed in on it.
The small head of the form swiveled in my direction as soon as I locked my gaze onto it. Two laser red eyes bore into me for the briefest of moments before a massive explosion of intense light knocked me from the Shadowland and back into the realm of normal vision.
The crowd was milling about, oblivious to the dance between two hunters as I tried to associate the out of place spirit I had seen with the right physical body in the swirling, dancing, flirting mass of humanity.
With all of the glances of fear, disgust, and disdain that I was getting, I knew that my appearance was even more zombie-like than normal. I hadn’t found my prey yet. I was reasonably certain, however, that I stood out well enough to let the Slayer know that he or she wasn’t alone at the top of the food chain any more. The minnows danced and darted about, too exhilarated by life to realize that the true dance of death had only just begun.
I slipped back into the Shadowland, hoping to catch a glimpse of my prey yet again, only to find that the creature had slipped away for the moment. I shifted back to normal vision, clenching my fist in frustration. I pulled the Shadow closer, hoping to use It for cover as I redoubled my efforts to locate the Slayer before it struck again.
Standing on the edge of Light and Night, of City and Beach, I was in Shadow. A watchful, vigilant Shade that moved from one world to the next with the ease of a moth flitting around a light bulb, one moment fully visible and real, the next moment a figment of the imagination.
In this new state of being—suspended halfway between the living and the dead—I could walk among the evening revelers leaving no more memory of my passing than that of a strange, cold shiver that caused a tingle along the spine and raised the hairs on the back of the neck.
There was a certain timeless quality to this half-in, half-out existence that I was now in. I was unsure whether I had been searching for five minutes or an hour when I noticed the strange cloud of Shadow darker than any normal night obscuring part of the beach across the street.
Without hesitating, I turned, stepped out into the street, easily slipping between the cars stuck in traffic. I needed to see what was being concealed over there.
I slowed from a jog to a cautious walk as I reached the threshold of the obscured area—it was large enough to conceal any number of dangers. The Shadow parted for me like a curtain. What I saw on the other side of that shade would have caused me to retch if I had been physically capable of it.
The body of the Slayer’s fifth victim lay spread-eagle in the sand, her torso ripped open. A man knelt down beside her with his back to me, holding something dripping and wet to his mouth and tearing into it with his teeth. The lip-smacking sound of him eating one of her organs was enough to throw me into a rage. But one glance at this man’s sickly spirit was enough to convince me that this man couldn’t be the one responsible for weaving the curtain of darkness that was obscuring him from being seen by anyone else.
I reached out and grabbed the man by his long, greasy hair, yanking his mouth away from his disgusting meal and lifting him from his knees. “Hold it right there, asshole! Who helped you do this?”
The man’s eyes were glassy, his mouth dripping blood and bits of the young woman’s liver. He tried to ignore me by bringing the rest of the organ up for another mouthful.
I knocked his hands down with my left hand and spun him around. “I’m talking to you! Who helped you with this?”
Still dazed from his orgiastic feast, his eyes grew wide as he laughed. Bits of liver and blood spewed from his mouth as he did. As I raised a fist to bring an end to his sick display, his eyes narrowed. “Are you Bones?”
That shocked me enough to halt my fist. I could barely keep my response civil. “Yes, how do you know who I am?”
The sick bastard giggled. “The Beast said you would come.” He nodded towards the waterline to his left. “It wants to talk to you. I don’t know why, you don’t look like you would taste very good.”
I ended the conversation with a blow that was sure to keep him unconscious for hours and dropped his sorry ass next to the poor wretch he had been feasting on. I had a date with a doppelganger. I stalked off in the direction the maniac had nodded in.
A figure strolled in the darkness near the gentle surf off to my right. It was walking that line between earth and ocean, alone, just as I moved between the world of Shadow and Light. Its physical form was that of a lithe young man. Its spirit was something other, something that I had not seen before. It was small and dark, exuding a roiling, seething hatred.
The doppelganger was issuing its challenge to me. Come play.
It was time to make a proper introduction. I called the Shadow, wrapping myself fully within it. I gave the dark energy the twist that took me from one place to another and stepped out directly in front of the creature.
The fleshy face of the young man melted away as I stood at arms length from the creature. I was standing face to face with a being that now had no discernible face.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Hunter.” No mouth opened as it spoke, only a slow, grating whisper emanated from the creature.
“Why are you killing these people? What have they done to you?” I stood facing the thing in a combat-ready stance. My hands were open and ready to trigger my batons to drop into place from my wrist holsters at the first sign that it was done talking.
“It is time to hunt again. Have you not heard the call?” Its form shifted slightly, its arms growing slightly longer than would be normal for a human being of its height. Its hands shifted into large, wicked looking claws.
“What call is that?” I rose up on the balls of my feet and shifted my balance forward ever so slightly.
“The Call of the An’girasii, that which has not been uttered in over six hundred years, ever since the Burning Times. How can you not hear it, Brother?” It reached one razor sharp talon towards me slowly, pointing towards where my heart used to be. “Lord Dracaar walks the land once more. My spirit sings with his Call. I feast so that I may grow strong enough to serve him once again! Shall we dine together tonight?”
I brushed the talon away with a sweep of my left arm while reaching up to the sheath across my back that was not actually present in the physical world. Somehow I didn’t think my batons would be of much use against this creature.
“Look buddy, I don’t hear any call from Dracaar or anyone else, but I think you’ve had your last meal on this or any other beach.”
It drew back from my brush off and gathered itself for a lunging attack, both monstrous claws ready to strike with its leap.
It leapt before I could get my hand on the hilt of Excalibur, knocking me backwards onto my back in the wet sand. We became a tangle of grasping hands and claws, kicking legs and tussling forms in the gently rolling waves.
It wrestled with the strength of several men, moving lightning fast with the ferocity of natural predator as it tried to keep me from reaching the blade that it somehow knew was there.
“You are known to us, young Hunter. You have much to learn before you will inspire fear in any of us the way your father did.” It was not straining to speak as we wrestled, it kept the upper hand, always anticipating my next attempt to wrest my hand free to reach for the blade.
“Drake was not my father, dammit!”
It gave off what could only be considered a chuckle as it leaned its grey, blank face close to mine. “It was only through him that you were born into this existence. He is your father in every way that matters.”
I stopped struggling when I realized that this creature, this doppelganger, was sitting astride my chest in the shallow surf, holding me down, but not otherwise trying to harm me. I stared into its blank mask of a face, trying to pierce the veil into its spirit. “Who or what exactly are you and why did you draw me here?”
Two pinpricks of red light grew into glowing orbs of eyes. “I am a humble Servant, a messenger, if you will. I have something for you.”
“What is it?”
It reached into the dark robes that I now realized it was wearing and drew out a rolled up piece of what looked like leather sealed by some sort of wax. It placed the bundle on my chest as it let go of my right arm with its other claw and stood up.
“Read this soon. It is a message for your eyes only. You’ve seen the fifth and final victim already. The human feasting on her carcass is my gift to you. He will serve the needs of your human justice system well enough for now.”
“I can’t scapegoat some poor schmuck for your crimes!”
It stood over me, its eyes fading back into the grey of the mask. “Oh, I’ve chosen well for you. He’s killed far more of his fellow men than I have lately. If he weren’t so fallibly human, he might have been of more use to us. I have enjoyed this meeting, young Hunter. Until we meet again, fare thee well.”
I sat up, grabbing the thick leather scroll before it fell into the water. As I did, the creature faded into Shadow and was gone
Showing posts with label Agent Wilson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Agent Wilson. Show all posts
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Friday, July 27, 2007
Playing Hardball...Part 2
I turned to face the Frau. “OK, we’ve seen what’s happened at the Coop. What else is going on?”
Frau scrunched up her face as she moved to take a seat on a comfortable looking sofa and waved for the rest of us to do the same. “You all might as well sit down. Things have gone from bad to worse in a hurry.”
Cerrydwen emerged from the kitchen to place a steaming platter of eggs, sausages and toast on the counter that separated the kitchen from the immense common room. “If anyone’s hungry, come and get it while it is still hot.”
Ravyn rushed to the bar stool nearest the food and began piling a plate high with servings of everything. She waved at the Frau to begin speaking. “Don’t wait on me. I’ve never been so hungry in my life. I’m listening!”
The Frau nodded, setting her cane to the side as Alexa came bouncing up into her lap with an energetic giggle.
“Herne did note that everyone that Ravyn and Betsy had sent out there had arrived safely, but the news was certainly not all good.” Her glasses slid down towards the end of her nose as she spoke. “He has already received a second group of refugees from the San Diego Circle and has heard reports of an attack on the Salem House in Boston, but he hasn’t been able to reach Tessa or any of the other principles of Salem House.”
Jim gave a low whistle and took off his hat in frustration. “That means that three of our largest teaching facilities have been hit on the same night!”
Ravyn looked up from her plate, her mouth half full of food. “No wonder he mentioned the Railroad.”
The Frau nodded. “Yes, he has activated the Railroad and has been sending out the refugees first.”
I looked around, everyone else seemed to know what the Hell the ‘Railroad’ was, so I had to ask. “What is this Railroad business and what does it have to do with these attacks?”
Jim stood up. He began twisting and wrenching his baseball cap in his large hands as he began to explain. “The Railroad is one of major contingency plans. It was actually something we came up with when we were dealing with Drake and his minions, when we thought that we might be pitted against the FBI and other federal agencies in trying to help you in those early days. It is based on the Underground Railroad that helped freed slaves escape the South before and during the Civil War. It is a way of moving our people around without too much notice.”
“I guessed as much, but where are these folks going and how are they getting there?”
He shuffled his feet and twisted his cap even tighter in his hands. “We have a network of transit points that link each major ORC facility to few select safe houses scattered around the country that are known only to select principals in each facility. It was one of those transit points that Ravyn activated to get most of the folks from the Coop to Herne’s Lodge in the Rockies.”
Frau cleared her throat. “Yes, as well as the dozen or so from San Diego. The Lodge is one of our primary rally points, but Herne is concerned of the possibility that it has been compromised as well. That was why he activating the Railroad to move out most of the refugees to even safer locations until we can get our bearings and come up with an appropriate response.”
Ravyn bounced up from her stool now that her plate was empty and stalked over to me. She stood facing me, hands on her hips. “I know one thing that we’re going to be doing! Bane hunting! I…”
My Bureau issued cell phone chose that moment to erupt in music, silencing Ravyn in mid-sentence. With more than a little trepidation, I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. I didn’t recognize the number, so I flipped the phone open. “Bones here.”
Agent Jennifer Wilson’s voice hissed through the crackling static of the ear piece, but she was clearly trying to mask it. “Damn it, don’t use any names. It’s about time you I found you. Look, I can’t talk long. The Bureau is shutting us down.”
“What? Why?”
“I just received a summons from very high in the Bureau. All work in our unit is to cease immediately and all agents and assets are to report for reassignment immediately. The scuttlebutt is also that you’ve been compromised and have gone rogue, but I don’t believe it. There is an all point’s bulletin out for you to be taken into custody by any means necessary. That’s why I had to use this disposable phone to call you. I recommend that you dump this phone immediately when we terminate this call and get rid of any other Bureau issued items that might be traceable.”
“Damn! What about you?”
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. Oh, two more quick things. First, that body that I was examining disappeared along with all of my notes and computer files, but I can tell you that I think they have an aversion to silver, the purer the silver the better. Second, your friend in DC, the one named after the African tribe, has been taken very ill and has been quarantined for the last week. No one except his doctor and the guards that have been assigned to his room is being allowed to see him for any reason.”
“Jesus…”
“I have to go. Remember, ditch your phone immediately and get away from wherever you are. There are serious resources being dedicated to finding you right now and they don’t have good intentions.”
The phone went silent and the squealed in protest as I crushed it in my hand.
I looked up in the questioning, concerned faces of my compatriots. “Well, it looks like we just moved from the frying pan to the fire. We need to pack up as quickly as possible and get the heck out of here, pronto.”
(To be continued…)
Frau scrunched up her face as she moved to take a seat on a comfortable looking sofa and waved for the rest of us to do the same. “You all might as well sit down. Things have gone from bad to worse in a hurry.”
Cerrydwen emerged from the kitchen to place a steaming platter of eggs, sausages and toast on the counter that separated the kitchen from the immense common room. “If anyone’s hungry, come and get it while it is still hot.”
Ravyn rushed to the bar stool nearest the food and began piling a plate high with servings of everything. She waved at the Frau to begin speaking. “Don’t wait on me. I’ve never been so hungry in my life. I’m listening!”
The Frau nodded, setting her cane to the side as Alexa came bouncing up into her lap with an energetic giggle.
“Herne did note that everyone that Ravyn and Betsy had sent out there had arrived safely, but the news was certainly not all good.” Her glasses slid down towards the end of her nose as she spoke. “He has already received a second group of refugees from the San Diego Circle and has heard reports of an attack on the Salem House in Boston, but he hasn’t been able to reach Tessa or any of the other principles of Salem House.”
Jim gave a low whistle and took off his hat in frustration. “That means that three of our largest teaching facilities have been hit on the same night!”
Ravyn looked up from her plate, her mouth half full of food. “No wonder he mentioned the Railroad.”
The Frau nodded. “Yes, he has activated the Railroad and has been sending out the refugees first.”
I looked around, everyone else seemed to know what the Hell the ‘Railroad’ was, so I had to ask. “What is this Railroad business and what does it have to do with these attacks?”
Jim stood up. He began twisting and wrenching his baseball cap in his large hands as he began to explain. “The Railroad is one of major contingency plans. It was actually something we came up with when we were dealing with Drake and his minions, when we thought that we might be pitted against the FBI and other federal agencies in trying to help you in those early days. It is based on the Underground Railroad that helped freed slaves escape the South before and during the Civil War. It is a way of moving our people around without too much notice.”
“I guessed as much, but where are these folks going and how are they getting there?”
He shuffled his feet and twisted his cap even tighter in his hands. “We have a network of transit points that link each major ORC facility to few select safe houses scattered around the country that are known only to select principals in each facility. It was one of those transit points that Ravyn activated to get most of the folks from the Coop to Herne’s Lodge in the Rockies.”
Frau cleared her throat. “Yes, as well as the dozen or so from San Diego. The Lodge is one of our primary rally points, but Herne is concerned of the possibility that it has been compromised as well. That was why he activating the Railroad to move out most of the refugees to even safer locations until we can get our bearings and come up with an appropriate response.”
Ravyn bounced up from her stool now that her plate was empty and stalked over to me. She stood facing me, hands on her hips. “I know one thing that we’re going to be doing! Bane hunting! I…”
My Bureau issued cell phone chose that moment to erupt in music, silencing Ravyn in mid-sentence. With more than a little trepidation, I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. I didn’t recognize the number, so I flipped the phone open. “Bones here.”
Agent Jennifer Wilson’s voice hissed through the crackling static of the ear piece, but she was clearly trying to mask it. “Damn it, don’t use any names. It’s about time you I found you. Look, I can’t talk long. The Bureau is shutting us down.”
“What? Why?”
“I just received a summons from very high in the Bureau. All work in our unit is to cease immediately and all agents and assets are to report for reassignment immediately. The scuttlebutt is also that you’ve been compromised and have gone rogue, but I don’t believe it. There is an all point’s bulletin out for you to be taken into custody by any means necessary. That’s why I had to use this disposable phone to call you. I recommend that you dump this phone immediately when we terminate this call and get rid of any other Bureau issued items that might be traceable.”
“Damn! What about you?”
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. Oh, two more quick things. First, that body that I was examining disappeared along with all of my notes and computer files, but I can tell you that I think they have an aversion to silver, the purer the silver the better. Second, your friend in DC, the one named after the African tribe, has been taken very ill and has been quarantined for the last week. No one except his doctor and the guards that have been assigned to his room is being allowed to see him for any reason.”
“Jesus…”
“I have to go. Remember, ditch your phone immediately and get away from wherever you are. There are serious resources being dedicated to finding you right now and they don’t have good intentions.”
The phone went silent and the squealed in protest as I crushed it in my hand.
I looked up in the questioning, concerned faces of my compatriots. “Well, it looks like we just moved from the frying pan to the fire. We need to pack up as quickly as possible and get the heck out of here, pronto.”
(To be continued…)
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Homeland Insecurity...Part 1
My discussion with Drake at the tree lasted for several days. Obviously, I can’t post the contents of that entire discussion in this forum, but you will get further glimpses from Drake himself when I allow him to post snippets here on the blog.
As for me, let’s just leave it that I now have a much better understanding as to who and what I am facing with the An’girasii and their various servants.
In the meantime, I returned home to prepare for the draft in the Fantasy Baseball league I had entered with the Professor.
The draft was set begin, so when the phone rang, I figured it was going to Jim trying to trash talk. “Look Jim, there’s nothing you can offer me A-Rod, I’m keeping him this year.”
“Hello, Agent Rusty Bones?” It was not Jim.
“Oh, I’m sorry, yes this is Agent Bones. Can I help you?”
“Yes, I am Commander John Stennos of the U.S. Coast Guard. I was given you’re number by an Agent Wilson. We have a…situation…that we may have need of your assistance in resolving.”
“Well, if Agent Wilson referred you to me, then it must be pretty serious.”
“Yes, sir. It is deadly serious.”
“OK, so what’s going on?”
“Sir, I’m afraid I can’t discuss this on a non-secure line, this is a very sensitive Homeland Security matter that we cannot afford to have leaked out until the situation has been handled.”
“I see. Well, I need to get a briefing on the situation in order to let you know if I can help you or not.”
“Yes, sir, I understand. Agent Wilson has provided me with your SecureNet e-mail address. I can have a detailed report with video links and all of the information you will need sent to within the next five minutes. I just wanted to contact you personally to apprise of the incoming message.”
“Thank you, Commander Stennos. I will be watching for the message. Please provide your location with the message. If I can help I will need to know where to find you.”
“It will be in the report, Agent Bones. I’m not sure how one person can really help with this situation, but I look forward to hearing back from you after you have viewed the message. Thank you for your time.”
The line went dead.
His voice had a tense quality to it that betrayed the pressure of the situation he was seemingly under.
I set the phone down and turned back to the upcoming draft. With a shrug, I set the thing to auto-draft, hoping that I would have a half-way decent team at the end of it and then toggled the SecureNet switch on the laptop, so that I could begin the login verification process onto the Bureau’s secret, shadowy internet where secure communication could take place and waited for the message from Commander Stennos.
As for me, let’s just leave it that I now have a much better understanding as to who and what I am facing with the An’girasii and their various servants.
In the meantime, I returned home to prepare for the draft in the Fantasy Baseball league I had entered with the Professor.
The draft was set begin, so when the phone rang, I figured it was going to Jim trying to trash talk. “Look Jim, there’s nothing you can offer me A-Rod, I’m keeping him this year.”
“Hello, Agent Rusty Bones?” It was not Jim.
“Oh, I’m sorry, yes this is Agent Bones. Can I help you?”
“Yes, I am Commander John Stennos of the U.S. Coast Guard. I was given you’re number by an Agent Wilson. We have a…situation…that we may have need of your assistance in resolving.”
“Well, if Agent Wilson referred you to me, then it must be pretty serious.”
“Yes, sir. It is deadly serious.”
“OK, so what’s going on?”
“Sir, I’m afraid I can’t discuss this on a non-secure line, this is a very sensitive Homeland Security matter that we cannot afford to have leaked out until the situation has been handled.”
“I see. Well, I need to get a briefing on the situation in order to let you know if I can help you or not.”
“Yes, sir, I understand. Agent Wilson has provided me with your SecureNet e-mail address. I can have a detailed report with video links and all of the information you will need sent to within the next five minutes. I just wanted to contact you personally to apprise of the incoming message.”
“Thank you, Commander Stennos. I will be watching for the message. Please provide your location with the message. If I can help I will need to know where to find you.”
“It will be in the report, Agent Bones. I’m not sure how one person can really help with this situation, but I look forward to hearing back from you after you have viewed the message. Thank you for your time.”
The line went dead.
His voice had a tense quality to it that betrayed the pressure of the situation he was seemingly under.
I set the phone down and turned back to the upcoming draft. With a shrug, I set the thing to auto-draft, hoping that I would have a half-way decent team at the end of it and then toggled the SecureNet switch on the laptop, so that I could begin the login verification process onto the Bureau’s secret, shadowy internet where secure communication could take place and waited for the message from Commander Stennos.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Enemies Mine...The Clean-up
As soon as Papa Locks’ portal closed up, a collective sigh of relief was released by my three companions.
Jim’s face turned a pale shade of green as he looked about the room for a garbage can. When he spotted it, he grabbed the thing and hobbled out of the room, mumbling something about coming back in a few minutes.
Ravyn shot a look of concern Jim’s way, but decided that he preferred to be alone, so she pulled out a chair and sat down. “I can’t believe that Papa Locks is back! How did they manage that? Cerrydwen is not going to be happy at all when she learns about this.”
I grabbed the head of the doppelganger from where I had last placed it and then walked over to where the hand was laying on the floor. I knelt down to pick that up as well. “You know, I don’t know why I didn’t think of the possibility of his return previously. He was a very powerful priest in his own right, and it just makes sense that they would have taken some sort of precautions to be able to bring themselves back from the dead if they were going to do it for the local cops like me who they had snared into the Project.”
Zenny reached down to the table and picked up the Soulscope that she had placed on it to show El Diablito. “Rusty, it seemed like you were the only one in the room who knew what was going on. This encounter didn’t go anything like we expected. How did you know they would back down like that?”
I shook my head as I dropped the head and the hand of the doppelganger next to the main carcass. “I had no idea that Papa Locks would be here, or even that Chandler was a doppelganger until he led us out of that elevator. Something about the way he moved and the way he noticed me looking at him in the Shadowland reminded me of the doppelganger on South Beach, although I don’t think this one was as strong as the other one. As to knowing that they would back down like that, I didn’t. Once I saw how shocked they were that Chandler wasn’t who he said he was, I took the bit in my mouth and bluffed like I had never bluffed before.”
Zenny cocked her head. “Bluffed? What does that mean?”
I grinned. “It is sort of like pretending to be in stronger position than you really are. It is something you do a lot in a casino like this. I used to play a lot of poker when I was alive.”
Slightly less green about the gills than he was, Jim limped back into the room, making a point of not looking at the still smoldering body on the floor. “Well from what I saw Rusty, you might have a future in playing poker again. I was pretty impressed by how you handled that after the surprise of the…creature.”
Ravyn got up impatiently and walked over to Jim, showing him to a seat where the body wasn’t in view. “So how could you tell that the butler was a doppelganger Rusty? If these things serve the An’girasii, then we are going to need to know how to spot them in the future. You won’t always be around to deal with them for us.”
“Well, first I noticed how calm the guy was down in the lobby when he was waiting for us. He seemed to be keeping himself supernaturally still, and then kind of came alive when he noticed us approaching. I’m sure Chandler was a very good butler, someone who had a cool, calm demeanor, but I don’t know too many humans who can keep themselves that calm.
“Second, in the elevator, I noticed how he moved. The first doppelganger that I met in South Beach was super fast. It moved way faster than I ever could, unless I was using magick of some sort to enhance my speed. In the elevator, the butler moved with such speed and grace that I began to have my doubts at that point. That’s when I slipped into the Shadowland to take a glance at his Spirit form. His Spirit form reflected a sense of power and calmness that I didn’t quite think was appropriate for a human. What sealed the deal though was when he gave me a slight nod of acknowledge in the Shadowland, like he sensed me looking at him there. I have yet to meet a normal human being who can sense things simultaneously in both the physical world and the Shadowland and distinguish between the two places. I knew then that he was either a very powerful Caster or something else.
“The final straw was when he exited the elevator and didn’t touch anyone as he slipped past all of us to get ahead again. That was simply inhuman. I’m betting that at least some of these creatures only have the power to fool human sight, but not the sense of touch. I think the doppelganger in South Beach was stronger, that it could fool other senses, but not this one. That’s probably why he chose to impersonate a servant who would not be required to get that close to anyone else—he had a reason to keep his distance from other people.
“It will be very hard to distinguish these creatures from the people they are trying to impersonate. Agent Wilson and her crew will be taking the body back to Quantico and conducting an autopsy of it in the hopes of discovering some of their secrets.”
Agent Jennifer Wilson walked through door to the room just as I mentioned her name. She was followed by several agents in bio-hazard suits, two of whom were carrying a stretcher sheathed in a plastic of some sort.
She glanced at the corpse on the floor, wrinkled her nose at the smell of things and started giving orders to her team to gather up the body. A second crew followed the first, this crew pushing a cart with all sorts of bottles filled with liquid and various cleaning tools. She put those folks to work cleaning up all of the droplets and puddles of liquid that I had helped to create.
“I want this room roped off until we’ve got the task done. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get this done in good time.”
Once she had finished giving her orders and the body had been flipped onto the stretcher and the other parts collected and covered, Agent Wilson let her guard down a bit as she gave Ravyn a big hug. “It’s been too long Mistress Fyre.”
“Oh, stop that. Call me Ravyn. You aren’t my student any longer. So you’re leading a team now, I see.”
Agent Wilson stood slightly taller than the diminutive Ravyn, but it was almost like she still looked up to her. “Yeah, this team was Rusty’s idea, actually. He pulled some strings at HQ to let me form a special response team. Each of the team members has some measure of Talent that most of them were unaware of until I tested them using those techniques you had taught me back at the Coop. I’ve been bringing them along slowly, showing them evidence from our files that had been previously disregarded as unexplainable or as anomalies. I was just about to give you a call actually, before Rusty gave me the heads-up to show up here with the team.”
“Oh, what about?”
“I was wondering if we could set up a sort of intern program with you at the Coop. I’d like some of these agents to really hone the Talents they have, some of them could become decent Casters, if they had the training. It might also help you out to have a couple of agents in residence, in case more creatures like this thing come calling.”
I walked over to them. “That sounds like a good idea, actually. By the way Jennifer, what have you decided to call the team?”
She grinned and looked down at her feet sheepishly. “Zulu recommended that I call it the Omega Team.”
That brought a groan from my lips. “It figures. Well, why not use the designation for something positive?”
Jim stood up now that the body had been removed. He was close to his normal color again. “Well, that might be a good idea for the Coop. However, I would have to see whether or not we could increase the budget to allow for the extra expenses.”
Jennifer shook her head. “No worries there, Sir. If Ravyn agrees to host the agents, I’ve been given the green light to authorize a per diem expense at the going rate for the Chicago area for their living expenses, which should more than cover any expenses incurred by the extra agents in residence.”
Jim nodded. “Yeah, I think you are right. I don’t have any objection then. Do you, Ravyn?”
Ravyn shrugged. “I have no objection, so long as they know who the boss around there is! They can’t be any worse than this dumb zombie of ours is!”
Jim’s face turned a pale shade of green as he looked about the room for a garbage can. When he spotted it, he grabbed the thing and hobbled out of the room, mumbling something about coming back in a few minutes.
Ravyn shot a look of concern Jim’s way, but decided that he preferred to be alone, so she pulled out a chair and sat down. “I can’t believe that Papa Locks is back! How did they manage that? Cerrydwen is not going to be happy at all when she learns about this.”
I grabbed the head of the doppelganger from where I had last placed it and then walked over to where the hand was laying on the floor. I knelt down to pick that up as well. “You know, I don’t know why I didn’t think of the possibility of his return previously. He was a very powerful priest in his own right, and it just makes sense that they would have taken some sort of precautions to be able to bring themselves back from the dead if they were going to do it for the local cops like me who they had snared into the Project.”
Zenny reached down to the table and picked up the Soulscope that she had placed on it to show El Diablito. “Rusty, it seemed like you were the only one in the room who knew what was going on. This encounter didn’t go anything like we expected. How did you know they would back down like that?”
I shook my head as I dropped the head and the hand of the doppelganger next to the main carcass. “I had no idea that Papa Locks would be here, or even that Chandler was a doppelganger until he led us out of that elevator. Something about the way he moved and the way he noticed me looking at him in the Shadowland reminded me of the doppelganger on South Beach, although I don’t think this one was as strong as the other one. As to knowing that they would back down like that, I didn’t. Once I saw how shocked they were that Chandler wasn’t who he said he was, I took the bit in my mouth and bluffed like I had never bluffed before.”
Zenny cocked her head. “Bluffed? What does that mean?”
I grinned. “It is sort of like pretending to be in stronger position than you really are. It is something you do a lot in a casino like this. I used to play a lot of poker when I was alive.”
Slightly less green about the gills than he was, Jim limped back into the room, making a point of not looking at the still smoldering body on the floor. “Well from what I saw Rusty, you might have a future in playing poker again. I was pretty impressed by how you handled that after the surprise of the…creature.”
Ravyn got up impatiently and walked over to Jim, showing him to a seat where the body wasn’t in view. “So how could you tell that the butler was a doppelganger Rusty? If these things serve the An’girasii, then we are going to need to know how to spot them in the future. You won’t always be around to deal with them for us.”
“Well, first I noticed how calm the guy was down in the lobby when he was waiting for us. He seemed to be keeping himself supernaturally still, and then kind of came alive when he noticed us approaching. I’m sure Chandler was a very good butler, someone who had a cool, calm demeanor, but I don’t know too many humans who can keep themselves that calm.
“Second, in the elevator, I noticed how he moved. The first doppelganger that I met in South Beach was super fast. It moved way faster than I ever could, unless I was using magick of some sort to enhance my speed. In the elevator, the butler moved with such speed and grace that I began to have my doubts at that point. That’s when I slipped into the Shadowland to take a glance at his Spirit form. His Spirit form reflected a sense of power and calmness that I didn’t quite think was appropriate for a human. What sealed the deal though was when he gave me a slight nod of acknowledge in the Shadowland, like he sensed me looking at him there. I have yet to meet a normal human being who can sense things simultaneously in both the physical world and the Shadowland and distinguish between the two places. I knew then that he was either a very powerful Caster or something else.
“The final straw was when he exited the elevator and didn’t touch anyone as he slipped past all of us to get ahead again. That was simply inhuman. I’m betting that at least some of these creatures only have the power to fool human sight, but not the sense of touch. I think the doppelganger in South Beach was stronger, that it could fool other senses, but not this one. That’s probably why he chose to impersonate a servant who would not be required to get that close to anyone else—he had a reason to keep his distance from other people.
“It will be very hard to distinguish these creatures from the people they are trying to impersonate. Agent Wilson and her crew will be taking the body back to Quantico and conducting an autopsy of it in the hopes of discovering some of their secrets.”
Agent Jennifer Wilson walked through door to the room just as I mentioned her name. She was followed by several agents in bio-hazard suits, two of whom were carrying a stretcher sheathed in a plastic of some sort.
She glanced at the corpse on the floor, wrinkled her nose at the smell of things and started giving orders to her team to gather up the body. A second crew followed the first, this crew pushing a cart with all sorts of bottles filled with liquid and various cleaning tools. She put those folks to work cleaning up all of the droplets and puddles of liquid that I had helped to create.
“I want this room roped off until we’ve got the task done. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get this done in good time.”
Once she had finished giving her orders and the body had been flipped onto the stretcher and the other parts collected and covered, Agent Wilson let her guard down a bit as she gave Ravyn a big hug. “It’s been too long Mistress Fyre.”
“Oh, stop that. Call me Ravyn. You aren’t my student any longer. So you’re leading a team now, I see.”
Agent Wilson stood slightly taller than the diminutive Ravyn, but it was almost like she still looked up to her. “Yeah, this team was Rusty’s idea, actually. He pulled some strings at HQ to let me form a special response team. Each of the team members has some measure of Talent that most of them were unaware of until I tested them using those techniques you had taught me back at the Coop. I’ve been bringing them along slowly, showing them evidence from our files that had been previously disregarded as unexplainable or as anomalies. I was just about to give you a call actually, before Rusty gave me the heads-up to show up here with the team.”
“Oh, what about?”
“I was wondering if we could set up a sort of intern program with you at the Coop. I’d like some of these agents to really hone the Talents they have, some of them could become decent Casters, if they had the training. It might also help you out to have a couple of agents in residence, in case more creatures like this thing come calling.”
I walked over to them. “That sounds like a good idea, actually. By the way Jennifer, what have you decided to call the team?”
She grinned and looked down at her feet sheepishly. “Zulu recommended that I call it the Omega Team.”
That brought a groan from my lips. “It figures. Well, why not use the designation for something positive?”
Jim stood up now that the body had been removed. He was close to his normal color again. “Well, that might be a good idea for the Coop. However, I would have to see whether or not we could increase the budget to allow for the extra expenses.”
Jennifer shook her head. “No worries there, Sir. If Ravyn agrees to host the agents, I’ve been given the green light to authorize a per diem expense at the going rate for the Chicago area for their living expenses, which should more than cover any expenses incurred by the extra agents in residence.”
Jim nodded. “Yeah, I think you are right. I don’t have any objection then. Do you, Ravyn?”
Ravyn shrugged. “I have no objection, so long as they know who the boss around there is! They can’t be any worse than this dumb zombie of ours is!”
Sunday, December 03, 2006
South Beach Diet...Epilogue
I stood, arms folded across my chest, as I watched the discussion taking place in the room behind the one way mirror.
Special Agent Jennifer Wilson paced behind me, flailing her arms as she spoke. “How can Corrales possibly think that he is the real killer? That man is stark raving mad!”
“Who is, Corrales?” I continued to focus my attention on the face of the man I knocked out.
His face was still stained with the blood from the victim’s kidney that he had nearly finished. His eyes were wide open, his pupils dilated. The dark circles beneath his eyes indicated that he had been running on little sleep for quite some time.
He was speaking in short, quick sentences that were nearly incoherent, especially if, like Corrales, you didn’t understand the babbled references he was throwing out like barbs to me.
“It’s been a great run man. I love the beach. It’s a perfect place for a midnight meal with the Beast. Blood never tasted so good.”
Corrales was overwhelmed, trying to take an intelligible statement form this guy, but he kept pressing anyway. “George, why did you kill these five victims?”
George shook his head. “I didn’t kill them, man. The Beast did. Oh, I suppose that I helped. Especially with that last one. She was a wild one, that one. I don’t know why the Beast wanted them dead, dude, but they sure were tasty.”
“Who is this Beast you keep referring to?”
George smiled; his bloody lips curling back as he did so. “It’s here watching you, so you better treat me right, Detective. It’s always here watching, learning, judging. The Beast is you, me, all of us.”
Corrales nodded, seemingly glad to have received an answer that he could use. “So you are the Beast, right George?”
George just smiled.
I had seen enough. I turned to face the still pacing Jennifer and touched her lightly at her elbow. When she turned to face me, I leaned in close and spoke softly nearly her left ear.
“Don’t worry Jennifer, your profile was impeccable. This man is not the killer of these people, but the creature that led me to him left him to take the fall for those killings. All of the forensic evidence will be made to fit this guy. There is nothing that you or I can do to stop that now. This whole series of killings was meant to solely to draw me here.”
She pulled back at that. “But why would…?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know enough yet to say for sure, other than that I was given a message. I message I haven’t had time to read yet.”
She looked shaken. “I have pictures of the symbols that were left next to each body. Do you want me to give you copies? Maybe they were part of the message too?”
“Yeah, you can send them to me via e-mail. I need to go, now.” I looked back through the one-way glass into the interrogation room to see that Corrales was putting the papers he had been filling out back into a folder. A group of burly officers from the Metro-Dade Police Department had entered the room to escort the soon-to-be-famous serial killer du jour to his cell. I leaned in close to Jennifer again. “Keep an eye out for strange profiles like this one. Let me know ASAP when you encounter another one.”
“There will be more?” Her eyes had grown wide with shock.
I nodded. “It’s just a matter of time. You can count on that. Tell Corrales that I’ve left. He won’t get, or need, any testimony from me for this nutcase.”
I left her to her own thoughts and Corrales’ likely wrath at my failure to stick around. I found a nice, darkened office just off the main hall and slipped into the Shadowland for the brief trip home.
I emerged in my meditation chamber, a particularly dark room that had no actual door into it in the mundane world. It was here that I came when I needed to be alone with my own thoughts.
I touched a small orb that lit up the small room with a bright, clear blue light. I pulled the rolled up scroll from the pocket I had kept it in and began examining it as I sat down at the small roll top desk that served as my only work surface for writing.
The leather of the scroll had a strange look to it and felt thinner and lighter than new leather should have. The scroll was held closed by a thick wax seal that was embossed with the symbol of a dragon with three heads…Dracaar’s sigil.
I cracked open the seal, letting the pieces of wax crumble onto the desk. I unrolled the scroll carefully.
The language of the letters and symbols of the scroll gave me pause for a moment as I searched the memories of Ma Grendel to come up with meanings. When it clicked into place, I drew an instinctive breath. This was no human language, but the original script of the An’girasii.
The message contained within those words was chilling…(to be revealed in the next post.)
Special Agent Jennifer Wilson paced behind me, flailing her arms as she spoke. “How can Corrales possibly think that he is the real killer? That man is stark raving mad!”
“Who is, Corrales?” I continued to focus my attention on the face of the man I knocked out.
His face was still stained with the blood from the victim’s kidney that he had nearly finished. His eyes were wide open, his pupils dilated. The dark circles beneath his eyes indicated that he had been running on little sleep for quite some time.
He was speaking in short, quick sentences that were nearly incoherent, especially if, like Corrales, you didn’t understand the babbled references he was throwing out like barbs to me.
“It’s been a great run man. I love the beach. It’s a perfect place for a midnight meal with the Beast. Blood never tasted so good.”
Corrales was overwhelmed, trying to take an intelligible statement form this guy, but he kept pressing anyway. “George, why did you kill these five victims?”
George shook his head. “I didn’t kill them, man. The Beast did. Oh, I suppose that I helped. Especially with that last one. She was a wild one, that one. I don’t know why the Beast wanted them dead, dude, but they sure were tasty.”
“Who is this Beast you keep referring to?”
George smiled; his bloody lips curling back as he did so. “It’s here watching you, so you better treat me right, Detective. It’s always here watching, learning, judging. The Beast is you, me, all of us.”
Corrales nodded, seemingly glad to have received an answer that he could use. “So you are the Beast, right George?”
George just smiled.
I had seen enough. I turned to face the still pacing Jennifer and touched her lightly at her elbow. When she turned to face me, I leaned in close and spoke softly nearly her left ear.
“Don’t worry Jennifer, your profile was impeccable. This man is not the killer of these people, but the creature that led me to him left him to take the fall for those killings. All of the forensic evidence will be made to fit this guy. There is nothing that you or I can do to stop that now. This whole series of killings was meant to solely to draw me here.”
She pulled back at that. “But why would…?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know enough yet to say for sure, other than that I was given a message. I message I haven’t had time to read yet.”
She looked shaken. “I have pictures of the symbols that were left next to each body. Do you want me to give you copies? Maybe they were part of the message too?”
“Yeah, you can send them to me via e-mail. I need to go, now.” I looked back through the one-way glass into the interrogation room to see that Corrales was putting the papers he had been filling out back into a folder. A group of burly officers from the Metro-Dade Police Department had entered the room to escort the soon-to-be-famous serial killer du jour to his cell. I leaned in close to Jennifer again. “Keep an eye out for strange profiles like this one. Let me know ASAP when you encounter another one.”
“There will be more?” Her eyes had grown wide with shock.
I nodded. “It’s just a matter of time. You can count on that. Tell Corrales that I’ve left. He won’t get, or need, any testimony from me for this nutcase.”
I left her to her own thoughts and Corrales’ likely wrath at my failure to stick around. I found a nice, darkened office just off the main hall and slipped into the Shadowland for the brief trip home.
I emerged in my meditation chamber, a particularly dark room that had no actual door into it in the mundane world. It was here that I came when I needed to be alone with my own thoughts.
I touched a small orb that lit up the small room with a bright, clear blue light. I pulled the rolled up scroll from the pocket I had kept it in and began examining it as I sat down at the small roll top desk that served as my only work surface for writing.
The leather of the scroll had a strange look to it and felt thinner and lighter than new leather should have. The scroll was held closed by a thick wax seal that was embossed with the symbol of a dragon with three heads…Dracaar’s sigil.
I cracked open the seal, letting the pieces of wax crumble onto the desk. I unrolled the scroll carefully.
The language of the letters and symbols of the scroll gave me pause for a moment as I searched the memories of Ma Grendel to come up with meanings. When it clicked into place, I drew an instinctive breath. This was no human language, but the original script of the An’girasii.
The message contained within those words was chilling…(to be revealed in the next post.)
Monday, November 20, 2006
South Beach Diet...Part 3
I slipped back into the Shadowland, hoping to catch a glimpse of my prey yet again, only to find that the creature had slipped away for the moment. I shifted back to normal vision, clenching my fist in frustration. I turned, stepped out into the street, easily slipping between the cars stuck in traffic. It was time to check out the beach. Once on the far side, I pulled the Shadow closer, hoping to use it for cover as I thought back to Corrales’ reaction to Jennifer’s shocking pronouncement.
“What do you mean by ‘not entirely human’? What else could the killer be? No animal would leave the victims spread out like that or draw those weird pictures next to the bodies.”
Jennifer nodded. Her medium length gray curls bounced as she did so. She pointed out items on her computer screen with her long elegant fingers as she spoke. “The pattern of the bodies and the symbols that are drawn has meaning, so it definitely isn’t an animal. But the way these people have been killed, it isn’t with a weapon. A knife, even a dull one, wouldn’t tear the flesh like was done on this victim and over here on this victim. These are wounds that have been made by claws of some kind, very sharp claws.”
“That doesn’t mean that some sicko hasn’t found a way to make a weapon that acts like a claw. Remember, we are in South Florida. We have more than our share of weirdos down here.”
She looked back at Corrales, her eyes intense behind her large glasses. “This killer is not your average weirdo, Miguel. There is something about the feel of this case…I believe that the missing organs of the victims have been removed for some important reason.” She shook her head violently as she contemplated the case, which sent her silver-gray curls flying. When she started speaking again her words spilled out in ever faster sentences. “I just don’t think a human killer would have been capable of doing everything this killer did to each victim in such a short time in place where someone could come up on them at any time. The evidence is here Miguel. These people were killed on this beach. They each walked to the spot of their death with someone else who was clearly human at that time, but the tracks leading away from the site are not human. Each victim is missing an organ, a different organ from any of the other victims.”
Both Miguel and I just sat there watching and listening as she ran through the evidence as she spoke, clicking on a photo here, flipping past a slide there, all at the same speed she was talking. It all came so fast that it took us a moment to catch up to her when she had stopped, glancing between the two of us. She was the first speak again, but only as she reach over to click on the final slide in her presentation.
“I think the killer is a doppelganger.”
To be honest, I wasn’t that shocked. I had been following her points fairly closely and had already come to the conclusion that this killer was not your run-of-the-mill psychopath.
Miguel broke out in laughter, slapping his forehead. “You almost had me there, girl! I haven’t heard that word in over twenty year…doppelganger indeed. I remember those creatures from my role-playing days. So, now that you’ve had your little joke at my expense, what’s your real theory?”
Corrales had gone from side-splitting laughter to serious-as-a-heart-attack in the span of ten seconds. He looked from Jennifer to me and back to Jennifer.
“I wasn’t joking Miguel. That’s why I asked for Agent Bones to be here as well. He has considerable…experience…with creatures like this.”
His expression went from serious to confusion as he tried to make sense of this.
I slid my chair over to be close to him and looked him in the eye. I reached out and gently but firmly brought his right hand up to my neck. He was so confused that he didn’t even try to resist.
“Miguel, I not this ugly because of some crazy disease or any botched plastic surgery. I know you look at me and you think you see just a deformed person; at least once you try to process that information. But your true first reaction, the reaction you have before your brain dismissed it out of hand, is that I look like a zombie, that I look like a walking dead man. Well guess what? Your first impulse is right. Feel my right there where the carotid artery should be. No pulse. Feel how cold and clammy my skin is? I’ve got the flesh of a dead man because that’s what I am.”
“But…but…” He jerked his hand away, wiped it on his Armani pants as if they were dirty jeans and as if the feel of Death could be wiped off like a smudge of dirt.
I nodded. “I know. You see, I’ve found that I can walk around with less and less make-up than my makers ever thought I could because people see me for who I am at first glance, but then dismiss the mere thought of an undead zombie as either a good Halloween costume, or some weird skin disease, or a botched surgery or two. The human mind doesn’t deal well with things that don’t fit neatly inside the niches that it has assigned to them to. Simply because everyone knows that monsters such as zombies and vampires and…doppelgangers…their own minds fool them into believing that the thing they just saw with their own eyes was something else entirely.”
He looked shaken, to say the least. I put one hand to try and steady him, but he cringed, so I pulled it back with a shrug.
“Like Jennifer says, I do have some rather specialized knowledge and experience about creatures like this killer of yours. I agree with her profile in that I don’t think you are dealing with a human killer here. But why this thing is killing people like this, so publicly, so quickly, that I don’t know. I’m going to have to try and track it for awhile. I will need to spend time where it has been hunting. I need to see what it is seeing and see if I can discern its real purpose before it actually kills again. I will start tonight, since that is when it is active, at night.”
Jennifer was nodding as I spoke. She really looked pleased that I agreed with her profile so far.
Miguel, on the other hand, was looking almost as pale as I did. He was looking at me, listening to me, but with the vacant kind of stare that told me that his understanding of the world had just been turned upside down.
“Jennifer, make sure that the Bureau communicates with the local police. They should maintain the same vigilant presence that they’ve had in place for the last week, but I don’t want anyone else trying to cover for me. I need to hunt this thing in my own way. I don’t want to spook it, unless we absolutely have to in order to save a life…”
Standing on the edge of Light and Night, of City and Beach, I was in Shadow. A watchful, vigilant Shade that moved from one world to the next with the ease of a moth flitting around a light bulb, one moment fully visible and real, the next moment a figment of the imagination.
In this new quasi-state of being, I could walk among the evening revelers leaving no more memory of my passing than that of a strange, cold shiver that caused a tingle along the spine and raised the hairs on the back of the neck.
The Hunt continued…
“What do you mean by ‘not entirely human’? What else could the killer be? No animal would leave the victims spread out like that or draw those weird pictures next to the bodies.”
Jennifer nodded. Her medium length gray curls bounced as she did so. She pointed out items on her computer screen with her long elegant fingers as she spoke. “The pattern of the bodies and the symbols that are drawn has meaning, so it definitely isn’t an animal. But the way these people have been killed, it isn’t with a weapon. A knife, even a dull one, wouldn’t tear the flesh like was done on this victim and over here on this victim. These are wounds that have been made by claws of some kind, very sharp claws.”
“That doesn’t mean that some sicko hasn’t found a way to make a weapon that acts like a claw. Remember, we are in South Florida. We have more than our share of weirdos down here.”
She looked back at Corrales, her eyes intense behind her large glasses. “This killer is not your average weirdo, Miguel. There is something about the feel of this case…I believe that the missing organs of the victims have been removed for some important reason.” She shook her head violently as she contemplated the case, which sent her silver-gray curls flying. When she started speaking again her words spilled out in ever faster sentences. “I just don’t think a human killer would have been capable of doing everything this killer did to each victim in such a short time in place where someone could come up on them at any time. The evidence is here Miguel. These people were killed on this beach. They each walked to the spot of their death with someone else who was clearly human at that time, but the tracks leading away from the site are not human. Each victim is missing an organ, a different organ from any of the other victims.”
Both Miguel and I just sat there watching and listening as she ran through the evidence as she spoke, clicking on a photo here, flipping past a slide there, all at the same speed she was talking. It all came so fast that it took us a moment to catch up to her when she had stopped, glancing between the two of us. She was the first speak again, but only as she reach over to click on the final slide in her presentation.
“I think the killer is a doppelganger.”
To be honest, I wasn’t that shocked. I had been following her points fairly closely and had already come to the conclusion that this killer was not your run-of-the-mill psychopath.
Miguel broke out in laughter, slapping his forehead. “You almost had me there, girl! I haven’t heard that word in over twenty year…doppelganger indeed. I remember those creatures from my role-playing days. So, now that you’ve had your little joke at my expense, what’s your real theory?”
Corrales had gone from side-splitting laughter to serious-as-a-heart-attack in the span of ten seconds. He looked from Jennifer to me and back to Jennifer.
“I wasn’t joking Miguel. That’s why I asked for Agent Bones to be here as well. He has considerable…experience…with creatures like this.”
His expression went from serious to confusion as he tried to make sense of this.
I slid my chair over to be close to him and looked him in the eye. I reached out and gently but firmly brought his right hand up to my neck. He was so confused that he didn’t even try to resist.
“Miguel, I not this ugly because of some crazy disease or any botched plastic surgery. I know you look at me and you think you see just a deformed person; at least once you try to process that information. But your true first reaction, the reaction you have before your brain dismissed it out of hand, is that I look like a zombie, that I look like a walking dead man. Well guess what? Your first impulse is right. Feel my right there where the carotid artery should be. No pulse. Feel how cold and clammy my skin is? I’ve got the flesh of a dead man because that’s what I am.”
“But…but…” He jerked his hand away, wiped it on his Armani pants as if they were dirty jeans and as if the feel of Death could be wiped off like a smudge of dirt.
I nodded. “I know. You see, I’ve found that I can walk around with less and less make-up than my makers ever thought I could because people see me for who I am at first glance, but then dismiss the mere thought of an undead zombie as either a good Halloween costume, or some weird skin disease, or a botched surgery or two. The human mind doesn’t deal well with things that don’t fit neatly inside the niches that it has assigned to them to. Simply because everyone knows that monsters such as zombies and vampires and…doppelgangers…their own minds fool them into believing that the thing they just saw with their own eyes was something else entirely.”
He looked shaken, to say the least. I put one hand to try and steady him, but he cringed, so I pulled it back with a shrug.
“Like Jennifer says, I do have some rather specialized knowledge and experience about creatures like this killer of yours. I agree with her profile in that I don’t think you are dealing with a human killer here. But why this thing is killing people like this, so publicly, so quickly, that I don’t know. I’m going to have to try and track it for awhile. I will need to spend time where it has been hunting. I need to see what it is seeing and see if I can discern its real purpose before it actually kills again. I will start tonight, since that is when it is active, at night.”
Jennifer was nodding as I spoke. She really looked pleased that I agreed with her profile so far.
Miguel, on the other hand, was looking almost as pale as I did. He was looking at me, listening to me, but with the vacant kind of stare that told me that his understanding of the world had just been turned upside down.
“Jennifer, make sure that the Bureau communicates with the local police. They should maintain the same vigilant presence that they’ve had in place for the last week, but I don’t want anyone else trying to cover for me. I need to hunt this thing in my own way. I don’t want to spook it, unless we absolutely have to in order to save a life…”
Standing on the edge of Light and Night, of City and Beach, I was in Shadow. A watchful, vigilant Shade that moved from one world to the next with the ease of a moth flitting around a light bulb, one moment fully visible and real, the next moment a figment of the imagination.
In this new quasi-state of being, I could walk among the evening revelers leaving no more memory of my passing than that of a strange, cold shiver that caused a tingle along the spine and raised the hairs on the back of the neck.
The Hunt continued…
Friday, November 17, 2006
South Beach Diet...Part 2
Shaking my head as I stepped over the puddle of fermented vomit, I emerged from the darkness of the small alley and entered the pulsating stream of human sexuality that was the South Beach night life.
If the dress code of the partying crowd was any indication, it was about 80 degrees and humid out. Even the bikini clad gals and the bare-chested young studs were shiny with beaded sweat. I was, of course, the lone exception. I was wearing a lightweight, black windbreaker over a loose black sweatshirt. My sturdy jeans were properly distressed while my heavy black steel-toed work boots were brand new.
While preening, inebriated minnows darted and dodged all around me, I was the plodding, brooding predator seeking others who might be trolling for prey.
As chaotic and colorful as the neon, Art Deco scene was in normal vision, it was bland compared to the ever changing arrays of color displayed by the Spirit forms of the overflowing crowd. In the last year I had gotten much better at switching my vision from the mundane to the Shadowland while continuing to navigate physically through the mundane world.
It was so easy to scan crowds this way that I could almost operate on auto-pilot. If Agent Wilson had been right, the creatures that I was looking for would be far more likely to stand out in the Shadowland than they would in the mundane:
I made my appearance the next morning in the Flagler Federal Law Center where the Bureau had their main office in Miami. My ‘flight’ had been quick and hassle free. Agent Corrales met me in the spacious lobby on the first floor before taking me up the thirtieth floor meeting room that had a breathtaking view of Miami Beach across the bay and the sparkling ocean beyond that. Jennifer and a small cadre of forensic techs were waiting for me with all of the photographs and collected evidence laid out on the expansive conference table.
The photographs of the four victims, two men and two women, were gruesome. Each of the victims lay spread eagle on their backs, with arms outstretched and their guts ripped open.
My entrance stopped all discussion as each person took stock of me. Corrales had hid his reaction well down in the lobby, but that had more to do with the fact that I had waited in one of the darker areas for him to come find me. Even though I had my standard makeup job to cover up the worst of my appearance, it was getting harder and harder to disguise the fact that I now had a seriously ugly mug.
Jennifer got up from her seat at the table where she had been typing on her laptop and approached me, hand extended. “Rusty, thanks for coming so quickly.”
I shook her hand, carefully. “No problem, Jennifer. I hope that I can be of help to you.”
Corrales came up beside me, careful not to get too close to me. “Agent Wilson here has been singing your praises, Agent Bones. We certainly hope that you can help us resolve this case before the press eats us alive.” His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t see much in your Bureau profile though about building profiles.”
Jennifer cleared her throat, looked back at the various techs who had been watching our exchange. “Rusty’s skills are rather unique, Miguel, and his full profile is classified. Can we clear the room? The information we are about to discuss is to shared on a need-to-know basis only.”
“I see.” He looked sharply over at the techs. They got the point and began to shuffle from the room; more than one of them looked relieved. “May I presume that I am allowed to stay?”
Jennifer nodded and sat back down in her chair while pointing out two others to be pulled up. “Of course you are Miguel. You are the lead agent on this case, after all.”
We both sat down as she pulled up a presentation that she had been working on. Once the room was clear except for the three of us and the doors had been shut, she began to speak again.
“Miguel, as I’ve told you before, I can’t build an accurate profile of the killer in this case based on the facts that we have accumulated to date. What I haven’t told you yet is that I am pretty sure that the killer is not entirely human…”
The flashback was interrupted as I caught a glimpse of someone, something, in the crowd that didn’t fit. The Spirit form of the being stood out from the large cluster of younger, brighter Spirits gathered outside of a particularly flashy nightclub. It was a darker, smaller form than those of most humans, and it felt my presence as I honed in on it.
The small head of the form swiveled in my direction as soon as I locked my gaze onto it. Two laser red eyes locked onto me for the briefest of moments before a massive explosion of intense light knocked me from the Shadowland and back into the realm of normal vision.
The crowd was milling about, oblivious to the dance between two Hunters as I tried to associate the out of place Spirit form I had seen with the right physical body in the swirling, dancing, flirting mass of humanity.
With all of the glances of fear, disgust, and disdain that I was getting, I couldn’t pinpoint my prey just yet. I was reasonably certain, however, that I stood out well enough to let my prey know that he or she wasn’t alone at the top of the food chain any more.
The minnows danced and darted about, too exhilarated by Life to realize that the true dance of Death had only just begun.
If the dress code of the partying crowd was any indication, it was about 80 degrees and humid out. Even the bikini clad gals and the bare-chested young studs were shiny with beaded sweat. I was, of course, the lone exception. I was wearing a lightweight, black windbreaker over a loose black sweatshirt. My sturdy jeans were properly distressed while my heavy black steel-toed work boots were brand new.
While preening, inebriated minnows darted and dodged all around me, I was the plodding, brooding predator seeking others who might be trolling for prey.
As chaotic and colorful as the neon, Art Deco scene was in normal vision, it was bland compared to the ever changing arrays of color displayed by the Spirit forms of the overflowing crowd. In the last year I had gotten much better at switching my vision from the mundane to the Shadowland while continuing to navigate physically through the mundane world.
It was so easy to scan crowds this way that I could almost operate on auto-pilot. If Agent Wilson had been right, the creatures that I was looking for would be far more likely to stand out in the Shadowland than they would in the mundane:
I made my appearance the next morning in the Flagler Federal Law Center where the Bureau had their main office in Miami. My ‘flight’ had been quick and hassle free. Agent Corrales met me in the spacious lobby on the first floor before taking me up the thirtieth floor meeting room that had a breathtaking view of Miami Beach across the bay and the sparkling ocean beyond that. Jennifer and a small cadre of forensic techs were waiting for me with all of the photographs and collected evidence laid out on the expansive conference table.
The photographs of the four victims, two men and two women, were gruesome. Each of the victims lay spread eagle on their backs, with arms outstretched and their guts ripped open.
My entrance stopped all discussion as each person took stock of me. Corrales had hid his reaction well down in the lobby, but that had more to do with the fact that I had waited in one of the darker areas for him to come find me. Even though I had my standard makeup job to cover up the worst of my appearance, it was getting harder and harder to disguise the fact that I now had a seriously ugly mug.
Jennifer got up from her seat at the table where she had been typing on her laptop and approached me, hand extended. “Rusty, thanks for coming so quickly.”
I shook her hand, carefully. “No problem, Jennifer. I hope that I can be of help to you.”
Corrales came up beside me, careful not to get too close to me. “Agent Wilson here has been singing your praises, Agent Bones. We certainly hope that you can help us resolve this case before the press eats us alive.” His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t see much in your Bureau profile though about building profiles.”
Jennifer cleared her throat, looked back at the various techs who had been watching our exchange. “Rusty’s skills are rather unique, Miguel, and his full profile is classified. Can we clear the room? The information we are about to discuss is to shared on a need-to-know basis only.”
“I see.” He looked sharply over at the techs. They got the point and began to shuffle from the room; more than one of them looked relieved. “May I presume that I am allowed to stay?”
Jennifer nodded and sat back down in her chair while pointing out two others to be pulled up. “Of course you are Miguel. You are the lead agent on this case, after all.”
We both sat down as she pulled up a presentation that she had been working on. Once the room was clear except for the three of us and the doors had been shut, she began to speak again.
“Miguel, as I’ve told you before, I can’t build an accurate profile of the killer in this case based on the facts that we have accumulated to date. What I haven’t told you yet is that I am pretty sure that the killer is not entirely human…”
The flashback was interrupted as I caught a glimpse of someone, something, in the crowd that didn’t fit. The Spirit form of the being stood out from the large cluster of younger, brighter Spirits gathered outside of a particularly flashy nightclub. It was a darker, smaller form than those of most humans, and it felt my presence as I honed in on it.
The small head of the form swiveled in my direction as soon as I locked my gaze onto it. Two laser red eyes locked onto me for the briefest of moments before a massive explosion of intense light knocked me from the Shadowland and back into the realm of normal vision.
The crowd was milling about, oblivious to the dance between two Hunters as I tried to associate the out of place Spirit form I had seen with the right physical body in the swirling, dancing, flirting mass of humanity.
With all of the glances of fear, disgust, and disdain that I was getting, I couldn’t pinpoint my prey just yet. I was reasonably certain, however, that I stood out well enough to let my prey know that he or she wasn’t alone at the top of the food chain any more.
The minnows danced and darted about, too exhilarated by Life to realize that the true dance of Death had only just begun.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
South Beach Diet...Part 1
I emerged from the Shadow into a dark side alley. I stopped at the end of the alley for a moment to take in the festive scene of a typical South Beach evening—pounding music, snarled traffic, pulsing neon lights, and a throbbing crowd of underdressed people of all races, genders and orientations milling about happily trolling for their next fling.
The call for assistance had come earlier in the afternoon from the Miami office of the Bureau:
“Hello.”
“This is Special Agent Miguel Corrales from the Miami Office, are you Agent Rusty Bones?”
“Yeah, that would be me. What can I do for you Agent Corrales?”
“Well, uh, we’re having a bit of a problem down here and we’re hoping that you might be able to help us to solve it.”
“What kind of problem are you having?”
“Well, um, it’s kind of hard to explain without sounding…ridiculous.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry about that Agent Corrales. I specialize in handling problems that sound ridiculous to most people. Tell me what you got going on.”
“You’ve probably seen some of our problem on the news, if you watch that stuff. We have someone, or something that is stalking and killing people here near South Beach.”
There had been a few news stories about a series of gruesome killings in Miami Beach lately. I hadn’t really paid attention to the stories, so I didn’t know too many details, other than that the mutilated bodies of young, otherwise healthy young people were turning up on the beaches of that city’s hottest nightspots, only to be discovered in the early morning hours.
“I’ve seen some of the coverage, yes. Looks like you might have a serial killer of some sort who has become active down there. But the Bureau has better people than me to create a profile of potential serial killers.”
“Yeah, well that’s just it. We’ve had a profiler brought in from Quantico already, Jennifer Wilson, she’s looked at everything, including the details that haven’t been released for the media outlets and she swears that the facts aren’t fitting any into any of her profile models. She gave me you name and number and suggested that I give you a call.”
I remembered Jennifer. She was a bright young agent who had sought me out on one of my many trips to Washington in the last few months. She had been one of Ravyn’s students a few years back. She had the natural talent to be a full fledged Caster and had been offered a position within the ORC’s, but had decided to pursue a career in law enforcement. She was now a rising star within the Bureau using her Talent and her training to build profiles of serial killers. She hadn’t been wrong yet. If she was stumped, this was serious.
“OK, I’m listening. What details have you guys kept from the press?”
“Well, all of the victims were badly mutilated, that much has been made public. But what wasn’t released is that each victim was missing a particular organ. We’ve also found blood and other…evidence that wasn’t from any of the victims at each site.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Fluids that we can’t identify, strange looking symbols drawn in the sand near each body. Tracks going away from the sites of the killings always lead to the ocean.”
“And Agent Wilson said that she couldn’t create a profile from this?”
A young woman in a skimpy bikini top and a multi-colored sarong staggered to the edge of the alley where I was hidden and retched onto the ground, interrupting my reverie. She looked up from my puke spattered boots, staggering up to one knee. “Hey buddy, whatcha doin’ back there?” As her eyes traveled upward from my boots, her eyes grew wide. She got up quickly and stumbled off to rejoin her friends.
The call for assistance had come earlier in the afternoon from the Miami office of the Bureau:
“Hello.”
“This is Special Agent Miguel Corrales from the Miami Office, are you Agent Rusty Bones?”
“Yeah, that would be me. What can I do for you Agent Corrales?”
“Well, uh, we’re having a bit of a problem down here and we’re hoping that you might be able to help us to solve it.”
“What kind of problem are you having?”
“Well, um, it’s kind of hard to explain without sounding…ridiculous.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry about that Agent Corrales. I specialize in handling problems that sound ridiculous to most people. Tell me what you got going on.”
“You’ve probably seen some of our problem on the news, if you watch that stuff. We have someone, or something that is stalking and killing people here near South Beach.”
There had been a few news stories about a series of gruesome killings in Miami Beach lately. I hadn’t really paid attention to the stories, so I didn’t know too many details, other than that the mutilated bodies of young, otherwise healthy young people were turning up on the beaches of that city’s hottest nightspots, only to be discovered in the early morning hours.
“I’ve seen some of the coverage, yes. Looks like you might have a serial killer of some sort who has become active down there. But the Bureau has better people than me to create a profile of potential serial killers.”
“Yeah, well that’s just it. We’ve had a profiler brought in from Quantico already, Jennifer Wilson, she’s looked at everything, including the details that haven’t been released for the media outlets and she swears that the facts aren’t fitting any into any of her profile models. She gave me you name and number and suggested that I give you a call.”
I remembered Jennifer. She was a bright young agent who had sought me out on one of my many trips to Washington in the last few months. She had been one of Ravyn’s students a few years back. She had the natural talent to be a full fledged Caster and had been offered a position within the ORC’s, but had decided to pursue a career in law enforcement. She was now a rising star within the Bureau using her Talent and her training to build profiles of serial killers. She hadn’t been wrong yet. If she was stumped, this was serious.
“OK, I’m listening. What details have you guys kept from the press?”
“Well, all of the victims were badly mutilated, that much has been made public. But what wasn’t released is that each victim was missing a particular organ. We’ve also found blood and other…evidence that wasn’t from any of the victims at each site.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Fluids that we can’t identify, strange looking symbols drawn in the sand near each body. Tracks going away from the sites of the killings always lead to the ocean.”
“And Agent Wilson said that she couldn’t create a profile from this?”
A young woman in a skimpy bikini top and a multi-colored sarong staggered to the edge of the alley where I was hidden and retched onto the ground, interrupting my reverie. She looked up from my puke spattered boots, staggering up to one knee. “Hey buddy, whatcha doin’ back there?” As her eyes traveled upward from my boots, her eyes grew wide. She got up quickly and stumbled off to rejoin her friends.
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