The High Priestess (The Darkest Desires Series Book 1)

by N. M. Brown

  “Shit.” He suddenly hissed, though it could hardly be heard over the clattering of glass bottles. So transfixed, the monster hadn’t noticed her bag set aside in the darkness, his chunky boots knocking it hard. Before, his breath had come out in heavy pants, his pupils no doubt blown. Now, a strangled yelp clawed from behind his teeth. The erotic fantasy playing through his head was now disturbed and reality was setting in.

  Rolling her eyes, Echo span, ‘shocked’ by the sudden noise. “Oh, I didn’t hear you there.” Echo breathed, hand going to her heart just above her breast, pulling his eyes there. But the man stumbled. Caught. Panic flooded his eyes.

  He was large but most of the bulk was made up of his coat and was emphasized by how short he was. A receding hairline that disappeared into a desperate attempt at a comb over was the most outstanding thing about him. Otherwise he was very plain, very bland and not someone you’d give a second glance in the street. Maybe that was his problem; not enough attention from the world and this was the behaviour he resorted to. Echo tried not to gag at how pathetic it was.

  “P-please Sir, I- I don’t want any trouble.” She bubbled, her voice high and delicate hands trembling. Slowly rising to a stand, she curled her arms around herself. Protect. Shield. Hide. Weak.

  “I- don’t…” he coughed out, his hands clenched at his sides. Echo could see the strained denim at the front of his jeans, his feet shuffling side to side. Lust rolled off him in waves, but also fear. She was right thinking he was new at this. “I just, wanted to see if you needed any help.” He stumbled out, more panic rising in his chest. Echo tasted it as the lust drained away leaving only fear and the tang of pride. Humanitarian morals swelled, and Echo watched as he shuffled backwards, eyes darting to the open darkness behind him.

  “I dropped something…” She pushed slightly pointing behind her. She moved her head becoming blind to his movements. An audible draw of breath, the shuffling of feet… so close, so tempting. It would just take him one, strong swing…

  Moving quickly away, he fell back into the confines of the dirt path that would lead him back to town, back to civilisation. But that didn’t stop his longing eyes from glancing back.

  “You should leave it.” He said gruffly, taking large steps back. “Something … bad could happen to you if not.” Turning on his heels he jogged back through the twisting shadows from where they had come. Back on the safe street’s that would shield his monstrous face. A safe street where humanity reined, and no bad things could ever happen. How he would scold himself now; the moral of it, the ethics he would have broken. But later… later he would regret it. How could he have not? She was so easy? So, tame.

  Echo watched as the man hurried through the dusky haze of night, his tail between his legs and hands clamped tightly under his arms. She huffed a snort, tossing the ‘missing’ bottle in the air in front of her. “And I so wanted to play a game.” She wined to herself.

  Recalling years gone, Echo had been much younger when she’d met a predator. Aged fifteen, she’d been walking home alone at night from a dinner out with Gala. A divine sample of one of his new restaurants that would empty pockets and spark taste buds. This monster had not been a newbie however. He was an old pro. He’d almost taken Echo by surprise as she detoured through a park, but she’d felt his kick of excitement. Passing a cluster of trees, he’s snapped an arm around Echo’s body, smothering her face and dragged her away from any witnesses. He’d started pawing at her immediately and whispered about how he’d slaughter her if she made a peep. Echo had patiently waited until he had stripped her of her trousers and underwear and was proceeding to grasp his cock from his pants when she struck. Really, as an old pro, he should have realized that a dry eyed and easy breathing victim probably meant something was wrong. As a result, when she clenched his balls hard in her hand, he was caught by complete surprise. Hissing and spitting through his teeth, he cursed Echo and rattled off all the awful things he would do to her. Sadly, they all included rape; fuck her till she screamed, until she was dead, fuck her family. All very unimaginative.

  Echo had just smiled effortlessly and squeezed harder. “You are such a disappointment.” She’d whispered, “You are what stalks the night? Pathetic. Don’t you know who you’re toiling with?”

  “Toiling with?” He growled, digging his dirty nails into her shoulder like the pain might make her release him. “You’re just a kid! I’ll fuck you up you little sh-,”

  “Now, now.” Echo squeezed harder and pulled out the switch blade she kept in her boot for just such an occasion. “Manners don’t costa thing. But attempted rape… that’ll cost you.”

  Sadly, despite all her bravo, Echo was only fifteen and hadn’t had the strength beaten into her yet, so after a strong right hook to her cheek, the bastard had fled into the night. Echo was pissed she hadn’t been able to whip off his balls. He would have been mortified and enraged, setting his sinful ways in stone. Forever after he’d despise woman, particularly dark hair beauties, and he’d fall deeper and deeper until he was consequentially damned to hell. Her first soul. But alas he’d gotten away.

  Turning back to the path home, Echo walked with a sense of ease. The superior predator had won tonight. Despite helping in the House for going on twenty-four years, Echo hadn’t damned a soul to hell yet, just helped push them in the right direction. But despite her run-ins with many-a-person who deserved eternal damnation, she truly didn’t want just any soul. Damning a pure soul, that was her ultimate goal.

  “The damned can only fall with a little push.” Twilight had once told her when she was young, and Echo knew what she meant now.

  As the embodiment of Envy, Twilight had tried to explain to Echo the restraints they faced as harbingers of hell. As the great seven sins, they could influence and impact the human race, but they couldn’t take a life and to enter the gates of hell, you had to be dead. Twi had been envious of Echo, as she didn’t have that draw back and could kill at will. But Echo didn’t care to kill. It was human nature to kill, destroy and take the easy way out. No, Echo wanted to damn them from the moment they laid eyes on her, to the moment they died, all on their own. She could tempt predators all night, but she couldn’t force their hand and killing them lost all the fun.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Midnight had crested to its peek by the time Echo returned and the stars and satellites winked in and out of existence above her. Her feet weary, Echo made it to her apartment via the back stairwell and servants ‘corridor, ready to dump her supplies and put her feet up in the Summer Annex again. However, she froze when she saw her door was ajar. Not breathing a word, she looked in upon the darkness. No one would or should be stupid enough to break into the House butthat didn’t stop everyone.

  “Hello.” She asked the shadows. Wilson, who normally greeted her with a shriek and a flurry of claws was silent and missing. Echo remained rooted in the doorway.

  “Take a seat my child.” A smooth voice said. Following the sound to its source, Echo saw her two high back chairs facing the wide, dark window in the moonlight. Only the tip of a shiny gold cane, its handle an ornate curl of fire and smoke twisting in the light of the moon, was visible over the arm of one chair.

  “Archer.” Echo breathed a sigh of relief. Her wealthy boss and only father figure she’d ever known disappeared from time to time. He travelled to New York, Dubai or even other realms should the need occur. He’d left around three weeks ago; just up and left one morning and she hadn’t heard from him at all. She was almost surprised to see him. “I’m glad you’re back. But you didn’t come all the way back here because of this murder, did you?” she laughed, plopping on the chair next to his.

  He was sat with his long legs hooked over one another, while his cane was balanced perfectly on his lap. He looked the apex of high society. His suit was the colour of honey cream with gold pinstripes, with a cream waistcoat and gold buttons underneath. The soft material was un-blemished and wrinkle free, as it would always remain. His full white beard
was neatly trimmed, shaped and matched his swept back hair, with only a few streaks of grey to suggest wisdom with age. He didn’t look at Echo as she walked in, instead continued to watch the stars out the large window. Archer always spoke when he was ready, so Echo just sat and waited patiently. He calculated every word, every motion, and every facial expression to its smallest degree that he might show, before analysing his opponent too. He never lost a business agreement because of it.

  Finally, when he did speak, it was slow and unhurried, though he still didn’t turn to look at her, “You think I would come home for the departure of two more human souls? Please child, have better faith in me.”

  Echo chuckled, but a red stain crept along her cheeks. She should have known better really. Of all the siblings, Archer was the least interested in humanity. Their only purpose to him was their weight in gold, silver or stock prices. A closet case cheater and a lost prostitute had little too no worth at all. “So why are you back so early?” Curling on the chair, Echo faced him, taking in his molten gold eyes, down to his shiny brown shoes.

  “I’m back just as I planned actually. This murder was just a happenstance.”

  “Oh.” Echo wondered why he was here then. Very rarely did anyone other than Echo troop up the stairs to the attic. “Was your trip nice?” Echo asked, trying to fill the silence.

  “It was… of adequate conclusion.” Pausing for a moment Archer tapped his cane on the floor, once, twice, three times before speaking again. “I want you close to this case girl.”

  “What?” She spat, surprised and confused. “Why?” Keeping them occupied was her plan, letting them run around their own tails was then plan.

  “It troubles me as to why it took place so close to the House and went un-noticed.” Echo nodded along. It had been strange to find out two dead people were suddenly hanging over the river that lead to the duck pond. “I want you to find what the Police know and fix this up quickly.” He ordered. “We must stay on top of this.” Archer remained seated for a heartbeat longer, before he stood and turned to Echo. Still curled on the chair, Echo felt the walls shrink in and the air leave her lungs. As kind and as generous as Archer had ever been, he never failed to remind her of who he was and how he was her superior. “Don’t fail me, girl. I hate failure.”

  “Failure means to lose. To lose means to fall.” Echo repeated the words that he had drilled into her since she could talk.

  “And to fall means?”

  “And to fall means to be worth nothing at all.”

  “That’s my girl.” Archer smiled and placed a warm, soft hand upon her head, before leaving her apartment. He was no doubt going to his office where he would ebb and flow the stock markets once again. Echo didn’t move for the rest of the night, feeling warm and safe curled upon the small, soft chair. Allowing her eyelids to slowly drop, she snugly watched the world drown in the night and mused about how best to worm under the Detectives skins.

  V

  McQueen hadn’t slept for hours. He’d suddenly awoken in the middle of the night, a cold sweat pooling in his sheets. Shaking away the fears of years gone, he’d paced in his room where he still resided. It was simple, plain but clean. The Spindle and Thread was central to Rippling; too the left a quaint Café called Grannies, and to the right a bookshop that never seemed open. The rest of Rippling was a scattering of restaurants, shops, pubs and bars. Everything had a style however, as if anything modern wasn’t allowed to be built within twenty miles of the central Market. Ancient, heavy stone-work or dark wood; no plastic or glass monstrosities here. Yet saying that, McQueen hadn’t had much of a chance to explore.

  Walking the nine feet from his room door to the window that overlooked the street below, but despite his best efforts McQueen’s eyes were drawn to the flawlessly round pebble that sat on the table besides his bed. It was small, no bigger than a bottle cap, perfectly smooth and dove grey in colour. His fingers itched to touch it. To clench it in his fist. But he hadn’t done that since he was a rowdy preteen. He didn’t need that childish coping mechanism any more.

  Unable to sedate the memories, McQueen grabbed a cold shower and took a brisk car ride to the Station. His mind pushed away what he didn’t want to remember, and he intended to burry himself in paperwork, fact checking and making any headway he could with this case.

  McQueen typed in ‘Cardinal House’. It was the biggest house in the town and held the most land. It seemed far enough away, but as the locals had expanded, the town had simply grown around it. There would be records of it: bank statements, land ownership, employment history if they run it as a business. And yet, when McQueen hit search, all that popped up were old newspapers; clippings taken from Seventeen-seventy-seven.

  The House, back then known as Heartly Manor, belonged to the very long line of Eastaughffe, which McQueen didn’t even try to pronounce out loud and had held the house in their name for generations. The newspaper was very much a fluff piece, back when the newspapers could be bought with wealth and money, while the truth was left for the gutter. It went on about the prestige of the family, the reputation of their stature and good nature to the local community. It then briefly stated news of the untimely deaths of the family, how; it didn’t say, but they were all laid to rest in the family plot.

  And that was it. McQueen couldn’t believe it. Not name of business, no registry of tax or income for Cardinal House. It only stated, in a simple document that the house had changed hands and it took him three different historical data bases and even a phone call to confirm that the House now belonged to Archer Hellion. That was it. It didn’t even say how the man had acquired the House, just that it was his.

  Switching back to the search engine, he ran through his list. They had a long one. “Summer, Sydney.” He muttered, typing quickly. An easy, background check was needed of everyone when involved in a murder of this brutality. McQueen hadn’t started yesterday, the victims taking priority, but it was unlikely they were killed by someone random. No, someone local was much more likely. “Sydney Elizabeth Summers, aged nineteen, born Summit Hospital, seven thirteen in the morning. An early bird,” Scrolling through mostly useless information, McQueen focused on more recent entries “Address: sub-basement room, Genève Cottage… the same address as her parents, how sweet. Employment status; beverage attendant, location- unknown…” That made McQueen pause. Hitting print, he made a note on the paper, slipping it into a new folder. Unknown wasn’t a status you came across often on the data-base.

  If McQueen had a giant red pen he would have circled it multiple times and flagged it. However, they were a bit more professional than that, so he printed off the required information and set it aside. Long dead family members were unlikely to have any connection to their current murders, but it didn’t speak well for the Household members.

  Next, he tried Jacob Smith, but was unsurprised when over ten thousand results popped up. Searching for the one silver haired bouncer would take a life time, especially with no other information to go on. He didn’t even try with Sandi.The beautiful woman who’d demanded his palm reading. She worked at the House, but according to everywhere he looked, no one worked there. No second name, not address, she’d be just as difficult to research.

  Last, but not least he tried Echo Headly, reading her name out loud to himself as he checked the photo I.D, “Aged twenty-three, born: unknown. Location, address: unknown, employment status: unknown.” McQueen growled in frustration. He tried only her first name, due to its uniqueness, but again drew a blank. There were spotted newspaper articles relating to ‘Echo’; a priceless renaissance painting of Echo and Nassisius had been stolen. Lost dogs called Echo, and even a story about a tourist trap called the Echo Well. But as for the person… she existed, but there was no information on her. McQueen's instincts tingled. Having nothing on the database meant you had something to hide.

  With no luck on anyone from the house, McQueen huffed out a heavy sigh. Fingers laced together he stretched them behind his head, while his e
yes traitorously flickered to the phone. “Nope, no. There has got to be something.” He muttered quietly to himself.

  If anyone found it odd that he was there in the pre-dawn hours, or that he was talking to himself, no one said anything. He had only seen three people: the dull faced postman who’d grunted as he passed him this morning, the front desk officer and the cleaning lady. She had actually growled at him as she’d gone by, as if the light from his desk offended her.

  After another twenty minutes of mindless inputs in every-which-way-and-fashion, McQueen reluctantly picked up his receiver. The plastic coil danced in the air as he unenthusiastically punched in the numbers.

  “…Hello?” The voice asked on the other end, unsure.

  “Hello, is this Cardinal House? This is Detective McQueen speaking.”

  “Oh! Detective!” The voice cried out at a pitch that was so high, McQueen removed the phone from his ear. “I wondered to myself ‘Who could be calling this phone, no one ever uses it. But I thought, no, I best pick it up, it might be important. And look, it’s you.” Sydney chattered.