Mothman Emerged: Azure House Book 1

by Gina Ranalli

  No one bothered with greetings.

  “What’s the situation?” she asked.

  “Lady next door called it in,” Clark said. “Said she heard a blast that woke her up, and when she looked out her bedroom window, she claims she saw a shadowy figure running due north, but it was too dark to make out any details. All she could tell us was that he was ‘skinny like a Holocaust victim.’ Her words.”

  “No one’s answered the door,” Collie put in. “Clark walked the premises and looked in some windows. All dark inside and nothing seemed out of the ordinary except for a broken attic window.”

  “So, do we have a plan?”

  “The plan was to wait on you,” Clark said, a smile barely touching the corners of his mouth.

  Jill rolled her eyes. “Any plan beside that?”

  “Burke called the couple’s daughter, who gave us permission to go in, but we wanted more than just the two of us in case something really bad goes down. Could be an armed perpetrator in there for all we know.”

  “Or they could be sound sleepers,” Jill said hopefully. “And we’ll give them fracking heart attacks.”

  Collie ignored the wisecrack and said, “Deputy Casper, I want you to take the rear. Clark and I will go in from here.”

  She didn’t hesitate to do what she was told, but muttered, “Whatever you say, boss,” when she was sure they were out of earshot.

  As she rounded the corner of the house in the direction of the backyard, she heard Collie shout, “Sheriff’s department! We’re coming in. Step away from the door!”

  Jill saw lights glowing in the next door neighbor’s house and a curtain fluttered. They were definitely being watched.

  When she reached the backdoor, she drew the 9mm from its holster, waited a fraction of a second and then busted the door open with one hard, well-placed kick. “Police,” she shouted as she entered the premises, simultaneously hearing the same thing from Collie.

  She was in a dark kitchen. Nothing moved as she swung her weapon to and fro before moving into a back hallway.

  The three officers made quick work of making sure the bottom floor was secure before moving up a level.

  In the upstairs hallway, they discovered an elderly woman crumpled on the floor near the base of an attic entrance.

  Jill quickly hurried over to check the woman’s pulse. “She’s alive,” she said with relief and immediately called for an ambulance.

  The men were staring up into the attic opening. “Broken window up there,” Clark reminded them. “I’ll take a look.”

  “No,” Collie said. “I’ll go first.”

  Clark opened his mouth to argue, but the sheriff was already climbing the ladder. Clark settled for going second, while Casper stayed below, weapon still at the ready while she waited for one of them to report something from up there or for the ambulance to arrive, whichever came first.

  The first thing she heard was Collie cussing loud and clear, quickly followed by Clark saying pretty much the same things.

  Jill didn’t hesitate to act. She was up the ladder in seconds flat, pistol waving left and right as she entered the attic.

  Collie and Clark stood over a body, clearly mutilated and very much dead.

  “Mr. Sender, I presume,” Jill said, lowering her weapon.

  “I guess,” Clark said. “Looks like he was attacked by . . . I don’t know . . . a bobcat, maybe.”

  “Wasn’t shot, that’s for sure,” Collie agreed, moving away from the body to further examine the attic.

  “Rifle is right here,” Jill said, indicating the weapon that lay about six feet away from the victim. “Looks like it was Mr. Sender doing the shooting.”

  “Yeah,” Clark agreed. “But what was he aiming at?”

  Collie stood before the broken window and seemed to scrutinize the old sill. “Huh.”

  Jill joined him. “Huh, what?”

  The sheriff pointed at the sill and window frame. “What does that look like to you?”

  Studying where he’d pointed, she saw some sort of black substance all around the window. “I don’t know. Looks almost like powdered lead, maybe.”

  “Black dust,” the sheriff replied. “Lots of it. And this window was broken from the inside.”

  “What do you make of it?”

  Behind them, Clark let out a yelp of surprise, making them both spin around, weapons aimed once more.

  Clark stood at the opposite end of the attic now, deep in the shadows but holding his flashlight in one hand and pointing it up into the rafters. “You guys need to see this,” he said weakly.

  Both the sheriff and the deputy walked over to where he stood and looked up at what the light revealed.

  “What in the name of . . .” Collie couldn’t finish his sentence.

  Way up, some sort of nest was stuck against the bare wood. It was brown and whatever it was made of looked like a cross between wool and raw canvas. There was a large gaping hole towards the bottom of the nest. Whatever had been inside was big-bigger than anything any of the cops could imagine. Surely nothing in this part of the world could make something like this.

  Clark took a step back and Jill heard his ragged breathing. The kid was scared and she sure couldn’t blame him.

  In the distance, they could hear the wail of the approaching ambulance.

  Despite knowing she needed to go down, check on Mrs. Sender, and greet the emergency vehicle, Jill said, “You boys want to tell me just what the heck has been happening tonight?”

  “Bad mojo,” was all Collie could reply. By now he’d put his weapon away and was studying the nest carefully, stepping right up to it and pointing his own flashlight into the dark hole at the bottom of it.

  “Burke said something about people reporting a strange creature flying around. This must be the source, right? I mean, anything that could make a nest this big would be hard to miss.”

  “This is no nest,” Collie said, still examining the huge object. “This is a cocoon.”

  “Nest. Cocoon. What’s the difference?”

  “Difference is,” he replied without looking at her, “as far as I know, only bugs make cocoons.”

  Chapter 10

  Still rattled by their earlier experience, both Jackie and John sat in a private room in the hospital and had been treated for minor injuries. Two cops asked questions and took notes.

  On more than one occasion, Jackie saw the officers exchange glances and knew they thought they were dealing with crazy—probably drunk—kids.

  “And you guys hadn’t been tossing a few back?” the bald cop asked for about the third time. His name was Simmons and he had a slight accent, though she couldn’t tell what it was.

  John made an exasperated sound. “We told you, we don’t drink.”

  “And you say this thing just came out of nowhere and attacked you? For no reason?” the other cop—Brown—said.

  “Pretty much, yeah,” John replied.

  “What’s that mean? ‘Pretty much’?”

  “It means we weren’t doing anything to provoke it,” John snapped, clearly about to lose his temper.

  “Can we just go now?” Jackie said quickly. “Our parents are right outside and I’m really tired.”

  “Just a few more questions,” Officer Brown said, flipping to a new page in his notebook.

  “No!” John shouted. “We already told you everything that happened half a dozen times. I’m sick of this. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “No one said you did anything wrong, boy,” Simmons said, his eyes narrowing, “so just lower your voice and relax. We have to cover all our bases, all right?”

  John’s face flushed crimson and Jackie couldn’t remember a time when she’d seen him so angry.

  “And this . . . thing . . . was gone after you drove into the ditch?” Brown asked.

  “Yes!” Jackie insisted.

  “It wasn’t anywhere in the road or on the side of the road or off in a field, maybe?”

  “We didn�
��t check within a five-mile radius, if that’s what you’re asking,” John said.

  The cops paid no mind to him, for the moment focusing on Jackie.

  Simmons said, “And just one more time, Miss. You said before the crash you got a pretty good look at it?”

  “I did.”

  “And it had a black body, wings and orange eyes?”

  “That’s right,” she said, feeling more like a fool with every passing second.

  “And it was furry?”

  “I didn’t say ‘furry.’ I said it looked like . . . I don’t know . . . fuzzy I guess.”

  “There’s a difference between furry and fuzzy?”

  John leapt to his feet and stood toe-to-toe with Simmons. “You think this is funny, man? We could have been killed!”

  Without so much as a twitch, Simmons said, “I need you to get out of my face and sit back down, kid.” When John held his ground, the cop suddenly barked, “Right now!”

  Jackie flinched at the shout, but John only did what he was told, his face now the color of a radish.

  The door to the hospital room opened and John’s father loomed in the doorway. “I think that’s enough, officers.”

  “We’re not quite done, sir,” Brown told him.

  “No, you’re done.” He pointed towards them. “They’re done. And we—their parents—are also done. We’re not gonna sit out in the hall and listen to you yell at our kids as if they’ve committed a crime. We’re taking them home now.”

  The cops looked at each other and then Brown closed his notepad. “I think we have all we need for now, but we’ll be in touch if anything comes up.”

  Gratefully, Jackie followed John’s dad out of the room, John right at her heels. Her own mother was pacing the hallway and immediately gave her daughter a hug. “I never would have let them talk to you alone like that, baby. But, you’re eighteen now—”

  “It’s okay, Mom,” Jackie said. For probably the first time since knowing John, she was happy his dad was a district attorney. She had never given it much thought before tonight.

  The four of them left the hospital together and after a long, hard hug, John promised to call her first thing in the morning and apologized for about the hundredth time for driving like a lunatic.

  The hug was fierce enough to be painful and yet Jackie didn’t want it to end, but of course it had to, and they parted ways in the parking lot, each going to their own parent’s car.

  In the passenger seat of her mother’s Chevy, Jackie listened to her mom ramble on and on about what a travesty it was for the cops to be treating such good kids like they were some kind of drug addicts. Jackie mostly tuned her out, instead playing and replaying the events of the night. She only tuned back in when she heard her mom say, “And I, for one, believe you. You’ve never been a liar. Not even when you were a little girl. You were never one to make up fantasies. You didn’t even care much for fairy tales like all the other girls did.”

  The way she said it seemed odd, somehow. As if maybe she was trying to convince herself and not her daughter.

  Jackie took a deep breath and held it for several seconds before releasing it in one long whoosh.

  Her mom probably didn’t really believe their story and who could really blame her? It was absolutely preposterous. Her mother was just doing her best to console a daughter who had experienced a traumatic event, like any good parent would do.

  Jackie realized that unless they found the creature that had attacked them, probably no one would believe it. Not ever. And that was a depressing thought. More depressing even than the event itself was scary.

  Ten minutes later, the Chevy pulled into their driveway and she unfastened her safety belt, got out of the car and looked longingly at her house. All she wanted was a shower and to hit the sack.

  Abruptly, she froze in place, eyeing the roof of the house. A figure stood up there, darker than the night itself, unmoving, as if staring right back at her.

  Her mouth worked as her mother went to unlock the front door, but no sound came out. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. There was no scream inside—practically no breath, for that matter—and her blood seemed to crystallize in her veins.

  “Jackie,” her mother said. “Come on now, hon.”

  Her eyes flicked towards her mom for no more than a fraction of a second, but when she looked up at the roof again, the silhouetted figure was gone.

  Whatever it was had vanished as if it had been made of something as insubstantial as smoke, or maybe dust, blown away onto the night air.

  Chapter 11

  “It’s late, babe,” Paul told Regan. “We should hit the sack. That cop said he’d keep us up to date.”

  Regan paced the kitchen and chewed her nails. “Do you really believe that? He’s probably already forgotten he was ever here.”

  “Well, either way, there’s nothing we can do about it right now. Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

  “I wonder if it’ll be on the news tomorrow?” Regan said, mostly to herself.

  Paul sighed heavily, but Regan barely noticed. Her mind whirled with the possibility of what if that thing truly was extraterrestrial and she had witnessed it, but had failed to capture it on film? The thought made her want to kick herself. Hard.

  “I can’t just go to bed, Paul. There’s no way I could sleep after this.”

  “So, you’re just gonna pace a groove into the floor? That doesn’t seem very productive.”

  “Exactly! I need to be productive.” She went to the counter and picked up her camera gear. “I’m going back out there. If I saw it once, there’s at least a small chance I’ll see it again, and this time I won’t be so shocked that I just stand there like a fool.”

  Paul got to his feet. “No way. Uh-uh. You’re not going back out there tonight. Do you even know what time it is?”

  She scowled at him. “Excuse me, but I don’t remember ever giving you the authority to say what I can and can’t do. I’m going.”

  He just stared at her, his jaw set.

  “I’m not going to argue with you, Paul. This is something I need to do. I need to at least try. Do you know what this could do for my career? We could be set for life!”

  He squeezed his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Fine,” he said at last, “but I’m not going to let you go on this wild-goose chase on your own.”

  Regan grinned and gave him a one-armed hug with her free hand.

  “We won’t find it though,” Paul said. “You know that, right? I mean, do you even have any idea of where to look?”

  “No idea whatsoever,” she said, readying her equipment. To herself, “I wonder if I should grab a few more lenses . . .”

  In the end, she carried a satchel full of camera paraphernalia, with Paul carrying a few items as well.

  When they stepped into the night, Regan noticed the temperature had dropped by a few degrees and the supermoon had shifted in the sky, making it darker than it had been when she’d been out earlier.

  Together, the two of them stood on the lawn, looking up and down the street.

  Paul said, “Okay. Now what? We just hope this thing decides it’s time for another jog around the neighborhood? Maybe he’s running laps?”

  “Very funny,” she replied, “but the more I think about it, the more I think that whatever it was, it’s probably nocturnal, right?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “It was out late at night, and totally black itself.”

  He shrugged. “That’s like saying a black lab running around at night is nocturnal, isn’t it? Not a very safe assumption, if you ask me.”

  “Would you please stop being a smartass and be serious?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, though he really didn’t sound sorry at all. “I’m just tired and the thought of standing on the lawn waiting for a spaceship to land just isn’t my idea of a good time.”

  “I didn’t ask you to come.”

  “What
kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my crazy girlfriend roam around in the middle of the night when there’s a Martian on the loose?”

  “Can I get back to my point now, please?” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “Of course. Please continue.”

  “Anyway, I was thinking, if I’m right about it being nocturnal, finding it at night would actually be easier than finding it in the day since most nocturnal creatures are sleeping or hiding during daylight hours.”

  “Easier, maybe, but probably still not easy. Raccoons are nocturnal, but I bet if we decided we wanted to find one right now, we couldn’t do it.”

  “I never realized what a Negative Nancy you are.”

  “I told you. I’m exhausted.”

  “But, you did actually make some sense.”

  “I did?” He sounded hopeful.

  “Yep, because if we did want to find a raccoon, or any other nocturnal animal, we would have to look in the place it would most likely be.”

  “Which is?”

  In unison, they both said, “The forest.”

  “Oh, man,” Paul groaned. “You’re actually gonna make me tromp around in the woods now? I don’t know.”

  “I can do it myself,” she said. “I’m pretty sure there won’t be any rapists lurking behind trees, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  He looked away from her, wheels clearly turning in his head. [If he’s looking away, how can she tell? Usually that’s given away by the eyes.]

  “I’m serious,” she said. “If you’re trying to think of a way out of it and still be a gentleman, you don’t have to. I’m a perfectly capable woman and I don’t need protection, and I won’t think anything less of you for it. I promise.”

  “That’s not what I’m thinking about,” he said. “I’m trying to think of some other way to talk you out of this nonsense, but I’m coming up blank.”

  “That’s because you know I’m determined.”