Fury From Hell

by Rochelle Campbell

  With a soft chamois cloth and a large dollop of Murphy’s Oil Soap Lady Ariella rubbed and buffed the chalk markings of the magic circle off the bedroom floor. She threw the candle remains in a large garbage bag she’d brought with her and swept up the coarse salt. The High Priestess did her best to straighten the apartment to make it look as normal as possible.

  There was nothing to be done about the broken living room window; the boys in blue would have to come up with their own conclusions about that. She sighed when she looked at the splinters that were left of the bedroom door. There was nothing to do about that, either, except buy a new door…but would she have time? Who would put it on? Would the building people tell the cops a strange woman they’d never met before had come and fixed the bedroom door? Of course, the building management would say something!

  Lady Ariella shrugged and put the bedroom to rights as best she could. She replaced the rug and the bed to their original positions as well as the oval mirror. It went back to its spot on the wall and she made sure to wipe down all the surfaces that any of them may have touched with bleach. The gloves on her hands were making her skin itch but she ignored the sensation. She knew that this was important. If Jennifer had any chance of getting out of this predicament, she had to appear to be relatively normal. No funny business would help her at this time — especially of the esoteric kind.

  Looking around one final time, the High Priestess left the apartment taking all of the stuff she’d brought with her praying to the Goddess that she had done what was best for Jennifer.

  ***

  Tuesday, November 13th, 7:15 P.M.

  Yearwood watched Clift with barely concealed disgust. Only the relatively low lights in the observation room hid his countenance from Feinster.

  Feinster had watched Holden leave and wanted to go after her but resisted. Betty knew Jennifer needed space to digest everything. With a sigh, she turned back to the two-way glass and watched Giordano still banging his head.

  Clift was also looking through the two-way glass but he did not see Giordano at all. All he saw in his mind’s eye was Yearwood and his hate for Holden. With no idea how to fix this situation Clift was falling into despair that he wouldn’t be able to get through to Yearwood and make him undo what, he knew in his gut, Yearwood had already done. Even if it was possible for Yearwood to take back whatever he said to IAD, Clift wondered if the internal cops would halt their investigation. He blew out a long breath fretting that he already knew the answer to that particular question.

  Yearwood kept glancing at Feinster and Clift on opposite ends of the two-way glass and wanted to walk up and slap each of them upside their heads. He wanted to wring their necks and make them see that Holden had them all fooled! He needed them to understand that she was capable of anything — including murder. With a growl, he stalked over to Clift and poked him hard on the arm with his forefinger. “I’d like a word with you when you’re done in here,” he spun on his heel and stomped out slamming the door.

  Feinster, shaken out of her reverie looked up sharply at the still vibrating door and shot a glance at Clift.

  Both of their hearts sank.

  ***

  Sitting in her cubicle, Jennifer played with her phone spinning it between her thumb and forefinger. She thought of ignoring her desk duty status and inputting the query for the Barnes case. On automatic, Jennifer’s fingers logged in and went to the database. She put in her username and password and nothing happened. She tried it again with the same result. Damn! They move fast.

  She backed out of it and went back to playing with her phone. She flipped it a few more times before the next step she could take hit her. She grabbed out her notes and dialed the number from her cell.

  “Castleman? Holden here.”

  “Found anything?”

  “Not quite. I caught a high profile case and the Barnes case has been back-burnered here. So, I wondered if you can input a few queries to move the case along.”

  “Sure can. Suppose you’ve got the Rennkler case.”

  “You follow New York murders?”

  “Come on, Holden. This is international news — it’s Rennkler. Everyone knows him.”

  Chagrined, Holden only grunted.

  “What queries you want me to put in?”

  “The two strands of hair — from your case and mine. Can you run them in the national and the international databases and see if we have a match? Then can you enter brutal rapes with mutilations for the past 10 years? Think this guy’s been doing this for a while, maybe every other year.”

  “Really? Maybe that’s why we haven’t been able to piece this together. The pattern’s too spread out. Seems he doesn’t have a region he works in if he’s in Missouri and New York.

  “Exactly! Listen, Castleman. I may be real busy for awhile. I may call you from time to time to do other queries or follow up on things that I can’t. Can you do that?”

  “I’ve already told ya. Whatever I can do to bring this bastard in I’m going to do. I still want justice for my daughter’s friend.”

  “Thanks Castleman. Gotta run in to a conference, now. Speak soon.” She rang off quick before he could say anything else. She hated lying to him but there was no help for it. Her phone beeped. She took a look, and to her surprise, the last four texts were from Chad. With a half-smile, she opened his first text message.

  I guess you’re using work to brush me off. K.

  She wrinkled her brow and went to the second one.

  Actually, it’s not okay. Call me.

  She clicked through to the third one.

  Just checking to see if u got my text…

  The final and first one read very simply. Hi, ‘member me? Chad? Bar? Kiss? Let’s date. I’ll work around ur sched. I promise!

  Checking the time, she saw it was almost 8:30. She hesitated. What could she tell him? So much had changed in her life since they met five days ago. She wasn’t the same person. She didn’t even have the same job anymore! Biting her lip she stared at his text messages and pondered.

  “Whoever it is, call them.” Feinster walked up and plopped in the seat next to Jennifer’s desk.

  Glancing up, Jennifer blinked rapidly and looked down again. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself. Who is it?”

  “Chad.”

  Feinster whistled long and low. “Wow. What a pickle.”

  “Hmpfh. Don’t I know it. I don’t even know who I am any more. I already broke our date, but he doesn’t want me to brush him off. Said he’d work around my schedule.”

  Feinster shrugged, “I already told you to give him the option. Tell him what’s going on and let him decide what he’ll do. You’ll know who he really is if you do.”

  She nodded knowing the truth but hating it nonetheless. “I guess I have to say something. I can’t leave it the way it is.”

  “But what will you say? No matter what comes out of your mouth it’s rather unbelievable.”

  “True. I can just omit some — well, a few things. No lying necessary.”

  “How will you answer about work?”

  “Why would he ask about work? I already told him I’m busy with a high profile case. He guessed it was the Rennkler case.”

  “I mean that you’re not thinking about cases and mulling them over while you sleep. He’ll figure out sooner or later that you’re not working on homicides won’t he?”

  “I can tell him I’m working in another division…”

  “Okay, but now you’re on the lying edge.”

  “You’re getting way too far ahead. All I have to do is text him that I’m busy with my cases and, when I’m less busy, I’ll call and we’ll pick up where we left off. I don’t owe him anything. We met less than a week ago!”

  “Uh-huh. Now think about that…what would you think if you received that text from him?”

  Her shoulders slumped and she rested her forearms on the desk. “I’d think he was trying to let me off easy.”

  “Which is…” />
  “Yeah, yeah. A lie.”

  “My point, exactly.”

  “So, how about — ‘Meet for drinks next week.’”

  “Okay, sure. Send it. Next week comes. Then what? You think the IAD thing will be over in a week? Will anything get resolved in the next seven days? Oh, here’s a beaut. He wants to have drinks at your place. How will you explain that you’re not there? Will you tell him about the safe house? Oh, that’s right — you can’t. You have to tell him the truth — all of it — or you have to let him loose.” Betty had a look of pure steel in her eyes. “So that’s what giving him a choice is? Telling him about demons, witches and spells?”

  Betty reached out and squeezed her friend’s arm knowing how Jennifer was feeling. This was going to be the first of many hard choices she would have to face in the weeks and months to come. “Go ahead. Hate me if it makes you feel better but you know I’m right. The truth is the only way to go. And like you said, you only met him a few days ago. If he walks you haven’t lost anything, right?”

  Jennifer looked at Betty with a long face.

  Feinster snorted, “Oh. You got bitten already? He must be some kisser.”

  “Shut up!” Jennifer said giving her a sheepish grin.

  Betty smiled and rubbed Jennifer’s shoulder with sympathy in her eyes.

  “Guess I’ll call him. Yup, I’ll call now. Got nothing else to do.”

  “Make sure you go outside the building.”

  Standing abruptly, Jennifer nodded a few times and walked out of the bullpen with her phone in hand, without saying another word, leaving Betty staring after her.

  ***

  “Chad?”

  “Hey! Detective Holden I’m honored. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “Just shut up and listen. I’m not gonna repeat myself, got it?”

  A particularly loud 18-wheeler rumbled by on Flatbush Avenue Extension.

  “Loud street noises and cryptic missives. I love it already. Shoot.”

  Taking a deep breath she began at the beginning and didn’t stop until the miserable end. “So just a couple of hours ago they put me on desk duty and took my weapons and badge. I’m still a cop but I can’t work on my cases. It may be a good thing since Betty, Lady Ariella and I have to figure out how to keep the Fury from getting back into me so I don’t go around killing anyone —and as far as the atheist thing? It’s kind of in limbo but I’m not ready to recant just yet.”

  She had been speaking for fifteen minutes straight and hadn’t let him get a word in edgewise. Now that she was through, she waited for him to say something but he remained silent.

  “Chad?”

  “Okay, so you really want to get rid of me without making me feel bad. I get that, but why are you lying to me? And the paranormal stuff? What’s that about? You a Stephen King fan?”

  Veering off Flatbush, Jennifer made a left onto Myrtle Avenue before speaking. “Chad, I’m not lying or trying to push you away. If you look at Channel 12 News you’ll see that Derrick Palmer was killed and burned in a motel in East New York. I’ve just confessed to you. So, you can call IAD tell them I just told you I did it and you’ll see how real all of this is.”

  “Yeah, I heard about that guy. Hard not to hear about something so freakish…so you’re saying that you did that? No, wait — the Fury did it, right? More importantly — did you sleep with the guy before offing him?” She could hear the laughter in his voice.

  “Chad…I’m not making any of this up. Ask Betty.”

  “Why? So she can lie to me, too? If you don’t want to see me you don’t have to make up elaborate stories to scare me off. Just tell me you don’t want to be bothered. Tell me straight — do you want me to leave you alone?”

  “Chad, no. I don’t. But I am serious. The IAD is investigating me for the murder of Derrick Palmer. Why would I lie about something like that? You can call Internal Affairs and they will tell you themselves. They don’t lie.”

  Something in her voice touched a cord in him.

  “You’re serious aren’t you?”

  She couldn’t answer him. Retelling the whole thing did a number on her, and tears streamed down her face. She sniffled and tried to hide it.

  “Shit! Why the hell can’t I find a normal girl for once? Let’s have a drink on Friday anyway. Sounds like you don’t have a lot on your agenda at the moment. What do you say?”

  Smiling through the tears, Jennifer felt a surge of hope. “Sounds pretty good.”

  “Not saying I believe all that crap about demons eating mugger’s guts and Earth Goddesses inhabiting witches’ bodies,” he sighed. “What I do believe is that you believe it. Will you be all right? Do you need me to come and give you a hug? Buy you a cup of hot cocoa or witch’s broom tea or something?”

  “No. No, I’m okay. I’ve got Betty here and we’ll go to the safe house. I’ll call if anything else…crazy happens. Deal?”

  “Sure. With you, what kind of craziness can top what you’ve just told me? Hey, you know what? I need some kind of proof. You can’t spin a tale like this and expect me to take it hook, line and sinker. So, Friday figure out a way to prove it. Deal?”

  “Chad…”

  “No, prove it. I want to see something. You said the Fury was trapped? Is that globe it was trapped in around? Where is it? Bring it. Or, the cloak that Betty threw over you. That would be good, too. Ooo! One of the pentagrams from Betty’s house could work. Hell, even the formula for the bath you say that made you impenetrable to the Fury would be more than acceptable.”

  Jennifer heard the edge of hysteria in his voice. “Chad, do you believe in anything?”

  “My family goes to a Lutheran church.”

  “No, you. What do you believe?”

  “I believe there’s a God…” He didn’t say anything else.

  “And…?”

  “Jennifer what do you want me to say? That I’m a devout Christian and your atheism bothers me on a fundamental level? That I worship Satan? What? What are you looking for? All I can tell you is that believe there’s a God. That’s about it. I don’t go to church. I haven’t been inside of one since I was about fifteen years old. I trust that I’ll be taken care of and I pray when shit hits the fan like most people. I go along until I have to do something different.”

  Jennifer snorted, “Yeah, I know all about that last part. Here’s the thing, Chad. I don’t believe in God. I don’t think there’s anything out there except villains and good guys and my badge helps me tell the difference between the two. I trust that I can make money, put it in my bank account and that money will grow interest so it can take care of my material needs. That’s all I believe in. Imagine how I’m feeling right now.”

  He whistled. “That’s gotta be tough. So, when you realized Yearwood had the Fury in him how did you feel confronted with something you believe shouldn’t exist?”

  “I didn’t really think about it. I was in shock then that gave away to abject terror.”

  “I can’t even imagine how you’re walking and talking coherently.”

  She heard the catch in his voice and refused to give in to the impulse to cry. “Listen, Chad. I didn’t mean to dump this all on you but I didn’t want to brush you off. I wanted you…to make your own decision. So, do you still want to deal with me?”

  “I already said we’re going out on Friday. No proof necessary, okay?”

  “I’ll ask Betty if she can dig up the globe or bring the white fabric she used. Those things don’t belong to me. Remember, I’m not a witch. I’m just Jennifer the cop.”

  “No, you’re Supergirl.”

  “Totally corny but I’ll take it right now. Listen, I’ve got to get back to the precinct and see if I still have a desk.”

  “Okay, good luck and I’ll talk to you, soon.”

  Jennifer waited for him to hang up before putting the phone in her pocket. Running a hand over her pulled back hair she sighed and wished for an undo button for the last two weeks. She walked back to
the precinct. When she got there she didn’t head to the bullpen, instead she began wandering the around the building aimlessly deep in thought.

  ***

  Tuesday, November 13th, 7:25 P.M.

  The Fury was famished. Keeping Yearwood out of trouble was draining which meant feeding was now a priority for Abatu precinct or no precinct.

  Yearwood had stormed out of the small observation room and all of Abatu’s attempts to get him to leave the building were overridden by his anger and aggression. Instead, Yearwood went to Clift’s small office to cool his heels while waiting to have his private talk with the older cop.

  Clift opened his office door some ten minutes later and saw Yearwood at his computer. Yearwood looked up and there was no guilty remorse anywhere on his face.

  Anger bloomed hot and sharp in Clift. “What the hell do you think you’re doing in here? I have a mind to —”

  “…to what?!” Yearwood asked rising from where he sat and as he pointed at Clift’s screen.

  “Clearly, you don’t understand what desk duty is. I see this e-mail written from your personal account to Holden’s personal e-mail account stating you’ll let her work on the Barnes case even though you and I both know she’s not authorized to do so any longer. What do you think IAD would think of that? Hmm, Warren?”

  Clift was so mad he was sputtering. His heart raced while his blood vessels constricted and he began to see red.

  The Fury smiled. The male host was finally doing something that would be of assistance. Clift started gasping and clutched his chest as his eyes went as round as silver dollars. The Fury leapt out of Paul Yearwood and into Warren Clift.