by Eric Flint
Jasper took a deep breath, and either he’d gotten used to the scent of rotten meat, or it had dissipated. He approached the back of the shed and directed the flashlight’s beam over the pile of meat and bones and skin. Under the scrutiny of the flashlight, the pile cast a greasy sheen punctuated by a bone jutting from the meat here and there. Jasper’s cheeks involuntarily puffed and he swallowed down creeping bile.
A piece of cloth caught in the light. He patted himself down, searching for the cheap pen he always kept on him. The exact pocket depended entirely on the quality of his attire and the type of people he’d be dealing with on any given day. In this case he found the pen lying flat in the bottom of one of the pockets in his cargo pants. The pants were a hard habit to break, especially in warm weather when wearing a jacket of any sort was out of place and it appeared odd to do so.
He inched for the pile, avoiding any contact with the mutilated corpse of the dead person—if that’s what it was—with his feet or hands. That gave him some thoughts on the matter. Could a man do such a thing? Probably, with the right tools, but why would someone go through this sort of trouble to mangle a corpse beyond recognition? He still didn’t want to believe these incidents were anything other than a murder or some bizarre death at the hands of an animal.
He bit his lip and extended the pen toward the bit of cloth he’d noticed. But so far as he knew, there weren’t any animals that killed like this. Not in North America, anyway. The pen poked the cloth and caught in a fold, allowing for some leverage to pull the piece free of the mess.
“Well,” said Temple’s voice from behind, startling him. He almost lost his balance.
“Holy shit.” Jasper rocked back on his heels and took a few breaths, allowing the weight of his body to rest against the shed. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry. I was just thinking about something I read years ago, when I was a kid.”
“Okay, go on—anything to take my mind off this.”
“I was fascinated by certain types of sea creatures—”
“I don’t think this was caused by chicken of the sea or anything.” Jasper grinned.
“You’re a funny guy. Ever consider a career in comedy?” Temple paused a moment. “Anyway. Don’t sea horses digest their food outside their stomach? Or maybe another sort of sea creature, starfish?”
“What? You’ve got to be joking.”
She was back to her no-nonsense stare. “Why couldn’t a land animal exist capable of the same mutilation, and we, for some reason, scared the thing off? I mean, it’s possible, right?”
“I don’t know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. The scent returned, mingling with the burnt odor of the petrochemical tinged air. “At this point, I’m all for calling in the locals and letting them button up this scene.”
“After Vance obtains some samples, right?”
Jasper sighed. “Yeah, but you know what? I’d like to try to grab some sleep tonight, if you and your partner Vance can do without me.”
“All right. He’ll be here soon. But what are you doing behind the shed, anyway?”
“A piece of cloth, perhaps some identifying clothing or who knows, maybe I’ll find a wallet or some identification in this mess.”
“You’re not thinking of picking through the pile,” Temple’s top lip curled upward on one side, “are you?”
“The thought crossed my mind, but maybe you’re right. Vance can get in there, if his stomach holds up. Didn’t he almost toss his lunch after coming face to face with the last pile of meat?”
“There was no almost—he did.”
“Right.” Jasper smacked and licked his lips, attempting to stave off the dryness in his mouth and was rewarded with a taste of copper, as if he’d bit his lip. “I wish Vance would just get here already.”
The back door of the old man’s house rattled. “Damn foreigners, so pushy.”
“I’m with them.” Vance stuck his Bureau credentials in the old man’s face, practically crammed down his throat. Jasper couldn’t tell if the tone was Vance’s natural lilt, or if he used a remonstrative voice.
“He’s okay!” Jasper shouted. “Please, Mister Yablonski, go back inside.”
“I phoned the police,” Yablonski said. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Excellent. I was just about to do that, thank you very much.” Jasper turned away from the old man. “Vance? Whatever you’re going to do, please do so with the utmost alacrity. Sleep is calling.”
Vance came over to Jasper and frowned. “Sleep? That was what I was trying to do.” His hair was tousled and doing a pretty good job of defying gravity in a few spots.
“Payback, my friend.”
“So we’re friends, now that you need something from me.”
“We haven’t identified the victim, but these remains resemble the mangled corpse near Animal Control,” Temple said.
“An idea popped into my mind as I fell off to sleep,” Vance said. “The first corpse, the mangled one, reminded me of something being digested, but on the outside, like a—”
“A sea creature,” Jasper finished. “Yes, Temple thought of the same thing, but I think that’s a little too far-fetched.”
“Just a thought. Where is this one?” Vance asked, eyebrows raised.
“Behind the shed, but it’s a tight fit, so only take what you absolutely need.”
“And try to figure out who this person was. We think it may be the person who kidnapped the dead girl at the accident scene over near the Euclid Hotel,” Jasper added.
Vance disappeared behind the shed. Seconds later, retching could be heard.
“Please tell me you’re not contaminating the evidence with your vomit.” Temple placed her hands on her hips.
“I’m—I’m fine. Almost lost my stomach’s contents, but I’m good here,” Vance said, “I’m fine.”
“All this talk of sea creatures has given me a thought,” Jasper said.
“Oh?” Temple arched an eyebrow.
“I have a buddy over a the University of Chicago, he’s a biologist. Perhaps he could enlighten us a bit on this, and if he can’t, I’m sure he has a roster of professors who might, and plenty of books and other research materials available. I’ll call him in the morning. Maybe he’ll meet with us tomorrow.”
“What do you think, Vance?” Temple leaned toward the shed and shouted.
“Ugh—fine.” Vance coughed. “I’m okay.”
“So, yes? We’ll go to the university?”
“Yes. Now please don’t make me open my mouth anymore.”
Vance’s coughing continued throughout his examination and evidence collection. No definitive answers existed other than this mangled corpse resembled the first one, only not as pink, as if retaining more of the red in the blood.
The East Chicago police arrived and cordoned off the backyard with rolls and rolls of crime scene tape and agreed to watch over the scene until morning.
“I’m going to have to call in our Evidence Response Team, I’m afraid,” Jasper said. “This is becoming too much for us to handle alone.”
Temple nodded. “Fine.”
“Hopefully the senior team leader won’t be too much of a dick when he shows up. ASAC Masters will have to lean on him to make this happen.”
“Whatever,” Temple said. “We collected everything we needed from here. Right, Vance?”
When Vance emerged, his face was a shade or two more pale than when he’d gone behind the shed and his forehead sported a damp sheen. His black hair lay matted on his head, soaked with sweat.
“You brought means of preserving all the evidence you collected without a need to go back to the office?” Jasper asked.
“I did.” Vance licked his lips and frowned. He must have gotten the same taste of copper Jasper received.
“Then let’s go. There’s plenty to do in the morning.”
Chapter 15
Lali stared at Rao, who in turn stared at the fluorescent light suspen
ded above them with its robotic hum. The light’s cold flicker accentuated Rao’s hard face and the deep lines there, like one of those crazy contraptions the mad scientists operated in the old horror films Lali’s grandfather used to watch when she was a little girl.
Rao’s mind worked at something—dreaming? If so, dreaming of what, Lali wondered. The past glories of the cult—there was no other word for the group of madmen he ruled—he hoped to restore to their supposed greatness? Or perhaps the ecstasy of crossing over to the other world he spoke of incessantly? The man had a one-track mind, all right, maybe he thought of other activities a few times daily—
Ecstasy. Rao visited his version of ecstasy on Lali often enough and with force.
“Lali.”
She almost sighed, but caught herself.
“Yes, Rao.”
“See the flicker?”
“I do.”
“The flicker reminds me of the moment the nâga break through, stretching the plasma barrier.”
“Tell me more, I seek only enlightenment.” But the man’s ruminations grew tiresome. She desired information to assist in deciding her next move.
“The nâga’s glorious entry into our world is accompanied by a ravenous hunger for the Sha ’Lu and the lifeblood contained in the sacrifices we provide.”
More like cattle lining up in a chute, awaiting their turn for slaughter. Lali refused to picture his description of the sacrifice in Old Testament terms, like when Abraham offered Isaac up for sacrifice to Jehovah upon the mountain.
Rao broke his reverie and turned his hard gaze upon her. She shivered, but brought it under control, hoping he had not noticed. His eyes lacked natural pigment. She never could figure the color. All black at times, but morphing into a swirling electrical storm at other times, especially when he claimed to touch another world.
Rao’s eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted, the lips curving into a cruel snarl. “We need stronger khâu. The miserable lot is failing us.” He struck his chest with a fist. “Failing me. One time is once too often, but a second time?” He stood before her, his sinewy arms now hanging, but both hands balled into fists.
Lali swallowed, unsure if Rao desired a discourse, but she needed to placate him if possible. His wrath took predictable turns when aimed at her. “At least the two at the Euclid did the proper thing and incinerated themselves.” She nodded, as if reinforcing the khâus’ failure and how none of this had to do with her. Rao had told her of their fate, but he had raged for hours on their gross negligence.
Rao closed his eyes, the lids bright red, as if kissed by preternatural fire. “Oh, but this last one, the accident near the Euclid, that failure was spectacular in its carelessness and stupidity. A car accident? In a van at the very intersection where the hotel stands? How can the police not take notice of the coincidences? The Iron Thorn demands meticulous planning and lack of selfish motives amongst the khâu. Rao,” he thumped his chest, “demands this of them.”
Lali stared at Rao. He cared for his glory, and his alone. Rao’s fanaticism dwarfed Koresh and the Branch Davidians. But there was something real behind his claims. The man truly touched another world and had the scars and powers to prove those boasts. Demons and monsters, or fallen angels feeding on the sufferings of others? Lali wanted to find out.
“We’re safe enough for now in this industrial wasteland I’ve conquered.”
Oh, how he enjoyed speaking of himself and how intelligent and resourceful he was. Conquered? He hid in this abandoned but surprisingly sturdy building he’d purchased through a series of shell companies—at least that was how Lali understood the whole thing. The former petrochemical plant gurgled and dripped at all hours and a constant electric buzz whirred. The khâu slept downstairs in a storage room filled with bunk beds, always present and tending to Rao’s needs, as well as the building’s.
Tepid pools dotted the lower level. A greenish-blue film covered the still surface—a petrochemical pond, devoid of life. Like so many places on earth these days.
Rao sucked in a deep breath. “I breathed their air once, you know. The nâgas’ world is dangerous and jagged, but exhilarating. I swallowed their noxious water, their version of water.
“The price I paid for that was miniscule.” He studied his arms. The bands of muscle and tendons twitched in his forearms and biceps, highlighting the angry scars sheathing his arms like tattoo sleeves some people etched into their skin. Khâu cowered before him, understanding the strength coursing through him upon passing back through the aperture into the human world, but also filled them with wonder and hope. There was no doubt of his dominance over the Iron Thorn, the Câ Tsang and his place as its leader, the Tip of the Horn.
“Failure teaches, does it not?” Lali asked, keeping her tone timid and somewhat obsequious.
Rao nodded. “Yes, failure gives us new blood, perhaps a cleansing. More devoted and more important, more intelligent khâu who understand following my orders without question is their lifeblood.” Rao stood, motionless, staring at Lali. “You, woman, have the aptitude and attitude needed for a leadership role within the organization. You will face the trials soon enough and I’ll know whether you’re worthy.”
Rao spun away from her and leaned on the railing. Lali approached, her footfalls loud enough as to not surprise Rao. She grasped his shoulders from behind and the white-knuckled grip he had on the arms of the railing loosened.
“You’re tense.” She whispered into his ear, the warmth of her breath radiating back on to her face.
He shrugged her off. Rao never admitted weakness. She withdrew, and moved far enough away where he couldn’t spin and strike her if he desired.
“You’re not like the others; there is no worry there, woman.” He didn’t face her, but remained staring over the railing and down to the main area of the plant. “You don’t blindly follow like the khâu. You will someday break through to the other world once my place over there is secured.”
She didn’t really believe him. He’d use her to gain more power, but share in the power? She doubted that. If only she could supplant him, but that would require cunning and planning, long-term goals to be sure, and all the while she’d have to endure his advances.
“Failure tenses Rao,” he said. “The police and FBI search for men like those weak khâu. But Rao and you, woman, have nothing to fear.”
She once again approached him. She breathed on his neck and pressed her lips there. She suppressed a shiver, fearing the touch would burn her. The man radiated unnatural heat.
“But you can’t do everything yourself.” Her fingertips dragged down his back.
Rao straightened and faced her, taking in her entire body. He lifted her arm and studied her tattoos, then with his other hands fondled her piercings. His face twisted, the disapproval of the markings and piercings obvious. He couldn’t resist her, but would any woman have had the same effect on Rao?
“You serve the Câ Tsang.” Desire sparked in his cold eyes, the only spark there. “Luckily for me, giving into my desires for your flesh is not against the tenets of the Câ Tsang.”
She preempted his advance and pressed against him. Her right hand glided down his chest and slid inside the loose waistband of his pants, squeezing what she found. “The only Iron Thorn I desire rests beneath here.” Rao wore no underwear, since he despised restrictive garments.
“Do not presume.” He yanked her hand free of his pants. “Rao will take you when he desires. No sooner.”
She touched her cheek and grinned. “Do you not desire me?”
“It is not for you to decide what Rao does and does not do. Who Rao desires. If he desires. You are still khâu. We seek communion with the nâga and their world. Do not forget your place.”
“Of course.”
“You tempt me with those wicked, half-closed eyes.” He touched her cheek and dragged his fingers over her mouth. “And those lips.”
Lali understood full well what she was doing with her half-asleep appearance and s
lightly parted lips, showing a hint of teeth and the tip of her tongue.
“You have tasks to complete before I will take you.” He turned from her, and she understood why.
“Let me help you,” she said. “Has something happened?”
Rao’s shoulders heaved, as if he tried to stifle a laugh. She pressed against him from behind, pushing her breasts into his back.
“Do not touch Rao unless instructed to do so.”
Rao didn’t quite trust her, but he was close—maybe. She pulled back from him, but only a few inches.
Rao turned and faced her, taking a deep breath as he did so. “It is time you learned of the ritual. The failures of the other khâu have caused the nâga consternation and forced them to feast outside the parameters.”
What did he mean? Parameters? She couldn’t hide her confusion from him.
“You wear the vacant expression of the men, those pitiful khâu. Ah, but when you think for yourself you don’t court disaster, unlike them.” Rao shook his head. “I’ll forgive your confusion, and understand I’ve told you more about the nâga than any of them. The last three khâu failed me. As leader of the Câ Tsang, Rao is infallible. Remember that. But you asked what was wrong, and now I’ve told you. Think you can help Rao?”
Lali shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“The Euclid Hotel was the perfect place for the ritual. We risk much by continuing to use the old building.”
“The police?” Lali asked.
“Yes, but the khâu, your brothers who immolated themselves, took much for granted and allowed the police—the FBI—to find them and our ritual chamber in the basement. And then the mess over near Animal Control. I don’t think the authorities have put it all together yet, but we’re in danger.”
“Certainly not from the FBI?”
He shook his head. “Only if they move beyond their by-the-book, Boy Scout mentality, which isn’t likely, given their history. The real danger, now that the police and some of the FBI people have been vocal, is the guild.”
“Guild?”
