The High Priestess (The Darkest Desires Series Book 1)

by N. M. Brown

  Echo stayed rooted to the couch. “Pass.” She turned her face into a pillow and bit her lip. What did Archer mean she wasn’t working hard enough? Maybe she should have been making more impressive cocktails? Or been more involved in the running of their business on the soul side. She could corrupt like the best of them, but it was another to drag the soul to Hell. How could she do that anyway? Hell wasn’t an easy place to get into… Maybe she cou-…

  “Echo Headly.” Hale now stood in front of her, baring down. “You are under arrest for criminally negligent manslaughter, second degree murder and use of illegal and deadly narcotics.” Echo could only watch as one of the nameless, faceless officers marched over and yanked her too her feet. Hard.

  “Are you shitting me?” She stumbled.

  But Hale ignored her, continuing to spout dribble like a pompous penguin. “You have the right to remain silent. If you do say anything, what you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult with a lawyer and have that lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you if you so desire.”

  “Oh, bite my ass Detective.” Echo hissed as she was man handled some more. The cuffs were too tight and her skin along her arms still screamed in pain as her scabs pulled, but she still found the whole thing amusing. “You’ve got jack-shit. You’re just blowing smoke up your own ass.”

  Hale didn’t speak, just nodded to the officers that gripped her arms tighter. Echo looked over her shoulder and around the room. Each member of her family was watching, but none of them moved. Nic had even fallen back asleep during the commotion and she was frog marched past. She didn’t bother asking for help as she left. Help wouldn’t come. If Archer had been thinking less of her before, being slapped in to cuffs was another mighty blow. It didn’t take a genius to know Sydney had said something. Something she knew nothing about, no doubt.

  Echo looked to the front of her home through the tinted black glass window of an old rusty police car. She would see it again. She promised herself that.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Archer and Sam had acted as Echo had expected, she told herself again. Even if they weren’t over-joyed with her at the moment, they would have done nothing. They didn’t show emotion or jumped at things on instinct. No, no, they would be plotting and planning. Anyone could barge into a police station and make demands and get nowhere. It took skill to walk into a police station and have them kissing the ground you walked on as you left. Archer would see to it. She was family; they considered her family and they would help. At least she hoped so in the back of her disloyal mind. But even more than that, she hoped they were grilling Sydney over hot coals for whatever she’d said. The stupid bitch couldn’t keep a secret better than a holey bucket could contain water. Echo had never liked her and had a legitimate reason now.

  She’d been sat in the interrogation room for over an hour again chained to the table like a dog. They’d unwound her bandaged arms stating they were a hanging risk. Like she’d hang herself, allowing this dirty room to be the last thing she saw. The only plus side was at least this time she wasn’t sat in nothing but a t-shirt. This time she was in her battle amour. The leather clad legs and black shirt were keeping the chill away for the most part, though her arms where itching as the new skin met the cold air.

  Running the words through her head, Echo told herself she could handle anything they threw at her. Detective Hale no doubt wanted her to stew, to sweat-it-out and all that, but now she was just getting prissy. It was almost morning, only a few hours shy of dawn and the time had dragged. Whatever nap she might have got at the club was long gone and she was running off steam. But still she was made to sit and wait in the windowless box room like a simpleton. Shifting in her seat, Echo uncomfortably scratched at her throbbing hand. Whatever had been on the knife Sydney had stabbed her with was out of her system, and even a nice Officer had cleaned the wound and given her a band-aid. Yet, no one offered medical attention or a professional to take look. Echo wasn’t surprised.

  When the door finally did open, it was Detective Hale with another officer she didn’t know. She wished it had been McQueen, but it seemed she wouldn’t get any eye candy today. Detective Hale was hot in a gruff, ‘I’m-your-daddy’, type vibe, but he was a grouchy broken man. It would take too damn long to pick up all the pieces, glue them together, sooth the wounds, too just break them again. Fresh lambs were more fun. Irish lambs relatively new to town for example.

  “Ms. Headly…” Hale began, sitting opposite her, “this is Officer Giles. He will be taking part of this interrogation.” He shuffled through some folders in front of him while Officer Giles took the camera to the tri-pod. Once more, she’d be on Cop-TV-Live; too bad it wasn’t of her best side. Officer Giles was stood by the camera, on screen so part of him could be seen, but he was only there for show. Detective Hale only wanted him there for formalities. This was his show. “This is the start of interrogation of Ms. Echo Headly, case 3-4-5-9, the murder of Mr. Farrows and Mr. Waver.” Hale began for the camera, “Aged twenty-three, adopted my Mr. Hellion at birth. Current employment, the floor manager at Cardinal House; the location of the first crime scene. Ms. Headly, you have been arrested on three separate accounts, the first: the storage and use of illegal and deadly poisons, drugs and narcotics. How do you plead this charge?” Hale hadn’t looked up from his folder, as if he were bored. As if it was a slam-dunk - to quote the Yanks. What a poor, simple Detective he was if he through all of this was a waste of his time. An open and shut case.

  “Guilty.”

  That made Hales head shoot up. Eyes narrowed he watched her. “You plead guilty to the possession of illegal and dangerous drugs?”

  “Yes.” Echo answered rolling her eyes at it all. “I do own them, so yes, I would count that as them being in my possession. I thought that’s why you had me here? It not like the charges will stick, I have a license for all of them.”

  Flicking quickly through the pages under his nose, Hale ground his teeth together. Echo thought she could hear them squeak from across the table. “There is no indication that you have a license in your file. In fact, I’ve never heard of a licence that ‘allows’ the owner to stock piles of such drugs.”

  Echo laughed pitifully. “That doesn’t surprise me Detective. You don’t seem to me too be an all-round knowledgeable guy. But I think I’ve found your bigger problem.” She smiled at him, like old friends. Fluttering her eyelashes, she lowered her gaze to the pile he’d stacked in front of himself. “That’s not my file Detective. You don’t have any information on me which is evident if you think I'm ‘the floor manager’.” Echo mockingly whispered across to him. The Detective had the decency to look a little ashamed at such a childish ploy.

  “These may not be all ‘your’ file Ms. Headly, but they are paramount to this case.” Hale cleared his throat. Echo just gave him a knowing smile.

  She knew there was no record of her license because it wasn’t a human recognized license. Not that they needed to know that. But also, she’d studied at university abroad. It would be hard to find a record of her in England. “My suggestion Detective, if I may be so bold as to give some, is you should go back and question your source again. Buuut,” She stressed, “You seem really busy and running back and forth, so I’ll tell you this for your own good. I never had the need to tell Sydney about my work. Its none of her business, far above her skill level, as well as her capacity to understand. She’s a bit dim that girl.” Hale wasn’t taking note. Echo suspected he had no intention of speaking to Sydney again. This had all been a bluff. A really bad one. So, the likelihood that they had something concrete was slim.

  “Sydney Summer’s lack of knowledge doesn’t excuse you from these charges Ms. Headly.”

  “No, it doesn’t, but I have pleaded guilty to your charge. I do have a licence for those herbs, which I can produce for you if I were inclined. I’m not by the way.” Echo said, looking to Officer Giles who seemed very u
ncomfortable stood in the corner. “So, it’s unsurprising you are missing key information in your case against me. I can hardly believe you think I’ll go down for this.”

  Hale didn’t seem to be fazed by this information, but he had a hot temper and Echo could feel it boiling under the surface. If it was Mara in her shoes, she’d make it flare. She’d whip up a hurricane in his soul and walk out in five minutes due to police brutality. Except Echo wasn’t Mara. She wasn’t talented like her family. So, she would stay and think of more creative ways to leave.

  “Do not forget Ms. Headly. This is hardly your only charge. And key information or not, licence or not, you had in your possession multiple herbs and plants that are classed as highly dangerous and have on numerous occasion, cause death. What’s more, you were found with these herbs right next to a crime scene. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  He looked like he meant to go one, but Echo cut him off. “But have they caused a death in our House, Detective? No, they have not. Is a neighbour with a knife block blamed when their neighbour is stabbed to death? No, they’re not.” Echo suddenly laughed and grinned at the sour detective. “That is unless the neighbour’s dog shat in their front lawn again. Now that might change things.” Hale didn’t even blink, but Echo saw Officer Giles twitch a smile that he quickly tried to hide.

  Echo let out a sigh. She was facing a dead crowd. “Shall I quickly summaries, Detective? We can then call it a day.” Holding up her cuffed hands, she pointed one long, slender finger at Hale. “I have a nationally accepted course degree in Mixology that I have used; travelling extensively around the world, to perfect that skill. It’s in creating cocktails if you weren’t sure. I also hold a PHD in herbology awarded by the Maryland University of Integrative Health, while also being admitted to the New York Collage of Chinese Medicines, both in the USA. I also spent half a year with native tribes in America, learning their old ways and beliefs, as well as spent time with aboriginals in Australia and on the planes of Africa. The herbs that you found are part of my work, part of my study and a big part of people’s religion.” Hale had kept a straight face through the entire speech, but he’d made notes this time, no doubt to go and check her transcripts and see if she graduated. Officer Giles at least looked impressed.

  “And this allows you to use them during work, does it Ms. Headly?”

  “All that is added to the drinks are clearly stated on the bar menu and can be verified by me if asked. We also disclose any and all side effects that could occur, also stating that myself, nor the Club is liable. If nothing was taken into consideration by the paying customer, it’s not my problem.”

  “Then why do it in secret?” Hale asked. His suspicion hadn’t completely dissipated, and Echo wasn’t stupid enough to forget that he’d said three charges. If it took this long to talk her way out of each one, with proof to match, she’d be here until Christmas.

  “What secret?” She huffed out a laugh. “Has Sydney been whispering of the unfairness of life again? I make drinks in a kitchen, Detective. I make them in a separate room, a kitchen so my deadly, harmful herbs don’t end up in that dim-witted girl’s hands. They’re not made in a secret laboratory downstairs. There isn’t any secretiveness about it.”

  Hale was beginning to frown more, his brow lowering with every question. Maybe Echo could get Sydney brought up on obstruction of justice charges. She really was wasting their time. “Ms. Summers stated that she was not a part of this practice at the club that it was solely your department and that you would, and I quote,” His nose took a dive into the file in front of him, “‘she would slip powders and crushed leaves into the customers drinks’, Ms. Summers also said, ‘I saw her put some in the victims drinks the other night. Lizzy was a good friend of mine, I would never aloud such a thing to happen if I had known’.”

  “Did she cry hysterically through the whole thing?” Echo mocked, just imagining Sydney crying on some poor cop’s shoulder. “She’s a touch dramatic, as well as dim.”

  “Ms. Headly, I don’t think you understand the seriousness of your situation.” Hale said. He began to pull out shiny photographs and for the first time, Echo saw the first crime scene. She’d only heard whispers from around the House, but she could use her imagination. But now Hale had given her the screaming dead eyes of Mr. Farrows hanging from the stone bridge. Next, she saw Dwight, his angelic hair wet and plastered to his face, the rope used to bind him ruining his perfect skin. Next to that, Hale placed a photo of the two latest victims; the woman’s spiced, sun kissed skin mottled with bruises, while the man’s head lolled back at an awkward angle. It seemed seeing as Lizzy wasn’t dead yet, she didn’t earn a place on this wall of fame. “Which brings us to our second charge: grievous bodily harm and the third: criminally negligent manslaughter. We are now running an expensive toxicology-screen on all our victim to see what exactly remains in their blood stream. If we find one micro-gram of any of your ‘herbs’, I will book you faster than you can say ‘drown the bitch’.”

  “If that was a witch pun, is wasn’t the best. ‘String her up’ would have been better. They hung witches in England. They drowned them in Salam.” Echo ridiculed but Hale didn’t even sneer.

  Slamming his hands on the table top, the noise echoed around the small room and made the chains around her wrists jump on the metal table top. “You helped this psycho get close to his victims. You gave him the opportunity to get close to them and to slip past their defences. I will have you go down for this. I will push for second degree murder and I will make it stick!” Echo was about to reply, but to be honest, she was probably only going to make the situation worst. But she was interrupted by a knock on the door. Nodding to Giles, the Officer paused the camera and Hale answered the door.

  “Sorry to disturb you sir,” Spoke a soft voice from a short, twitchy Officer. He’d obviously drawn the short straw to come in here and face Hale. “Detective McQueen is back and has demanded he speak to you.”

  Ah, Echo thought, saved by a falling angel. She smiled and relaxed back into her chair. She wondered how long until he came. He was one to find the best in everyone. Too bad he’d lose himself looking for what she didn’t own.

  XVII

  McQueen looked up and the shabby pizzeria front, the flashing neon sign still going despite that it was almost three in the morning. McQueen’s head throbbed, and his feet ached, but he didn’t stop. Two had been able to knock a few names off the list, but it seemed there a few men that matched the traits of a serial killer. Instead, they’d found a number of pissed of men who were displeased at being woken at such an hour, and quickly told them to “sod-off”. Despite his gut telling him none of these men were the one, McQueen had to take alibis and Two had to verify them. Thirty-two men who could be a deranged killer and they’d only crossed off seven. McQueen sighed again.

  Benny was now refusing to leave the car, stating they could all fuck themselves to Hell because he wasn’t walking up another flight of stairs for no God-damn reason. McQueen hadn’t schooled him on using the Lord’s name in vain, but he’d been happy enough to let Benny sit this out. He was an ass and McQueen, despite his best efforts didn’t like him. Ramirez on the other hand, was pleasant. He was cool and calm and didn’t say much, but when he did, it was helpful and insightful. Such as, when they visited their last potential suspect: he’d had children’s drawings all over the walls and Ramirez had asked if the man had a daughter. He’d said yes, and she was with him every night and ‘yes’ they could verify that with her if they would ‘sod-off’. Hale may not have accepted the word of a five-year-old as an alibi, but McQueen followed his gut. This father wasn’t there guy.

  “What information do we have on this one?” Ramirez asked coming to stand beside McQueen on the side walk.

  “The name on the Café’s register is Kendrick Maddock. He signs in once a week to check emails and watch porn it would seem.” McQueen had blinked at that one. Porn was sinful in its own way, but in public…?

  Ramire
z looked thoughtful, “Employed?”

  “At a rescue centre for neglected animals.” McQueen thought that could link to the canine bite marks they’d found, but that wasn’t proof. The last guy had also owned three dogs under his name, but it turned out they lived with his divorced wife in the South.

  Walking up to the front door of the pizzeria, he looked through the gloomy glass. It was empty of movement except for the fat rat munching on a dropped piece of pepperoni. McQueen shuddered and joined Ramirez at the small door that was to the side of the place. The dirty white doorway was cluttered with take-away flyers and damp newspapers. He’d looked for a bell-button but found none. The peeling paint was oozing stuff he didn’t want to further inspect, and mould was growing at the edges. He really didn’t want to touch the wood…

  McQueen raised his knuckles and knocked on the door, “What the...?”

  The door creaked open under his first pound; swinging inwards. Drawing their guns, Ramirez and McQueen moved as one through the door, Ramirez in front and McQueen sweeping behind watching their backs. Directly to their front was a steep set of stairs rising to the apartment above the shop, the walls yellow with grease. The carpet was a mossy green and squelched underfoot. As McQueen foot almost slipped on the moist carpet, he now promised to never complain about staying in the Spindle & Thread.