A shadow-like mist of a woman with two huge black dogs appears in the middle of the mini tornado. I notice Kheda stumble back as he stares in shock at the sight before him. As the tornado calms, the clearer the woman and dogs become until they are all that is left.
“Daughter of mine, you may rise and come forward,” Hecate instructs with power in every word, but a gentle smile playing across her mouth.
Gracefully rising to my feet, I move forwards. Cupping my hands together, my right palm in my left hand, I place my hands over my heart and bow my head in respect to my Goddess.
“Thank you, Goddess Hecate, for answering my plea.” When dealing with Goddesses, it is best to always keep it simple and to the point.
“My child, as always you ask for others not yourself, so I shall grant you your request, but only if you join the quest to find the murderers of my sons and daughters. Do you accept?”
“I accept.”
“And you daughter and son of mine, do you accept this quest for justice, a quest much bigger than you can ever imagine, do you accept?”
“Yes,” Kheda answers, determination lacing his words.
Jasmine shimmers, her hind legs elongating and her body stretching, until she transforms back into her human self. With a gasp, she comes forwards on shaky legs, her long jet-black hair rippling down her back, a few wisps falling over her shoulders and covering her naked breasts as she bows deeply.
“I accept, Goddess,” she answers, her voice hoarse from lack of use.
“And what of you, vampire, do you accept this quest?” Hecate asks, her voice carrying through the woods, to the East Bridge where Victor stands waiting for me to join him. In a blink, Victor stands in front of Hecate. I feel my heart stutter in shock at his abrupt appearance, and notice the others flinch in surprise.
“I also accept, my Goddess,” answers Victor, giving a deep bow his cupped hands placed over his heart.
“Good. You shall find others on your quest who serve me, but you will find more who are serving themselves. Listen to your hearts to know whom to trust, and don’t trust unwisely as it’s not just your lives on the line, but the souls of those gone before you and those to come. Good luck, my children. Be wise in your decisions. Now please stand back so you may see what has come before.” Hecate and her dogs vanish.
No wind, no nothing, just gone.
“Holy shit,” whispers Kheda.
“Everyone get back. Detective Kheda, my camera please,” I instruct, my hand stretched out to take it from the detective’s limp grip. “Jasmine, I am so glad you’re back. I have missed you so much. Hey, Victor, sorry I was late but as you can see…Okay, guys, get ready, here it comes,” I call out, finally getting to take a breath. I lift my camera and start snapping photos as images appear in a rush.
****
A form appears, dressed all in black and shrouded in darkness, carrying a large backpack and a man over his shoulder, before unceremoniously dumping him on the ground.
With great care, he starts to arrange the man. Gently sitting him up and leaning him against the tree, he removes his backpack. Lovingly he withdraws a bowie knife, an exceptionally long tube, and a sewing kit. The tube he unfolds, brings one end to the nearby stream and places it in the water, then returns to the man.
He sits and begins talking. He picks up his knife and makes an incision in the man’s skin. Quickly he places the tube in the area he’s cut, and blood flows out of the body, through the tube and into the stream, where it’s washed away. The man twitches, letting out a pitiful cry, so faint only the killer in front of him can hear it, and us, silent witnesses helplessly watching, unable to do anything, as we realize the man is not in fact dead, but dying before our horrified eyes.
As the man’s life slips away, the murderer starts threading his needle, and I realize exactly what he is about to do, just before he reaches for the man’s face.
He forces his gloved fingers into the man’s mouth, pulling one side into a smile and stitching the inside to keep it in position, cutting the excess thread with the tip of his knife before repeating the process.
After finishing, he puts the needle and thread back into his backpack. A sigh escapes the now dead man’s lips, as the last of his blood seeps out of his body and down the tube.
The murderer removes the tube, rolling it up into a neat circle and returns it to his backpack. Finally picking up his knife, he cuts through the man’s body, as easily as cutting through hot butter.
He slips his hands into the man’s torso and with brutal force, rips open his chest. I can hear the breaking of bones so piercingly it’s as if a gun has gone off. Picking up his knife, he carefully removes the dead man’s heart and once again places his knife on the ground.
Holding the heart in both hands, he lifts it as if in an offering before eating it and licking his gloved hands clean. He picks up his knife, slits open the dead man’s stomach, licking his knife clean before putting it in his backpack, and zips it up.
As the intestines spill from the body, he meticulously arranges them about the cadaver, finally crossing the dead man’s arms in front of him, as if he’s trying to hold them in. Picking up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulders, he calmly walks away, leaving behind the smiling corpse.
Two minutes later, we watch as I come on the scene. I had only just missed him! Time speeds up until all crime scene investigators have finished, everything’s removed and everyone’s gone home.
That is when he comes back, furious the body is gone, screaming in outrage and ripping through the area, destroying everything he can reach, only snapping out of his tantrum when a twig pierces his glove. With a final snarl, he grips the twig and storms off, back the way he came. Leaving behind one tiny drop of blood!
“We have got to find the blood,” Kheda says as he carefully moves forwards, crouching down and crawling to where we’d seen the blood drop.
“They’re alive,” I whisper. “When he kills them, I mean.”
“I know, honey, I’m so sorry.” Knowing how my parents died, Jasmine gives me a much needed hug.
Clever man Victor is, he realizes quickly I’m not thinking of the murder I just witnessed. “Who do you know who was murdered in this way?”
“My parents,” I reply.
Giving myself a shake, I look at Kheda crawling on the ground trying to find the drop of blood from the killer.
“Detective, stand up. You won’t find the blood that way,” I inform him thinking of the wind and other activity that’s disturbed the ground since the murderer left.
“I’ve got to try. It’s our only clue,” Kheda replies in obvious frustration.
Giving Detective Kheda an exasperated look but understanding his desperation perfectly, I fish a clean tissue from my jacket. Dragging in a breath, I let it out and suck in another, filling my mind with the killer, remembering and focusing on the single drop of blood.
With the drop shining like a beacon in my mind’s eye, I exhale and a beacon of light exhales on my breath, shining on a tiny spot five feet to my left. Carefully I walk toward it, and using the tissue, I pick up the leaf with the blood drop on it.
“Your DNA sample, Detective.”
“Huh, thanks. Look, please, will you all call me Kheda? I had better get this tested. Thank you again.” Kheda carefully puts the blood sample into a little plastic zipper bag he removes from an inside pocket of his jacket.
“Kheda, be careful. Don’t forget what Hecate said about who you can trust, this is the only sample we have,” Jasmine reminds him.
“I will. Do you want to borrow my jacket? I should have asked you earlier, I do apologize,” Kheda answers giving her an admiring glance.
“No, you’re fine, thanks. I’ll change back into my other form before we exit the woods. I think it’s best if I stay that way as much as possible…for now at least.” She watches Kheda retreat back the way he’d come until she can’t see him anymore.
Turning toward the sexy vampire, I drink him
in. Remembering he’d wanted to meet me, I quickly ask, to cover my gawking, “So, Victor, why did you want to meet?” Going by the look on his face, I think he’d forgotten as well.
“It was about the, for a lack of a better word, ‘soundproof streets,’ ” Victor replies. “Look, what just happened there?
“I mean, that was the Goddess Hecate, and the whole murder being relived. How? I don’t understand. The Gods and Goddesses, they don’t come to Earth any more, haven’t for centuries but…” Trailing off into silence, Victor stares off into the distance looking rather like a child who was told there is no Santa, only to find out there is not only a Santa but the Easter Bunny, too. Shaking his head Victor refocuses his attention on me.
“How did...why did…Sorry I can’t focus,” Victor admits, while rubbing the back of his neck as if to relieve tension.
“The Gods and Goddesses never went anywhere. Most people stopped worshipping them and stopped believing in them.” Holding up a hand to stop whatever he’s about to say I carry on.
“I said most people. Some of us like me, have always believed and talked to them. I am a daughter of Hecate, as were my mother and all the women of my family. What you saw was a mother coming to her children’s aid. And what we saw, well, I’d requested to see what had happened, and so we were shown. These killings are done by a group called The Protectors. Supposedly to keep bloodlines pure, but this victim was human. I don’t think anyone ever knew the victims are alive when…”
I trail off unable to voice the last part as my throat clogs up with unshed tears. In my mind’s eye, I see my mother bled to death, stitched, and ripped apart instead of the unknown man.
“It’s laughable them calling themselves The Protectors for they don’t protect anyone. Why not call themselves the killers or idealists. What are they afraid of anyway?” I demand as anger rolls inside of me.
“The prophecy,” replies Victor in a distracted voice, as he gently pulls me into his embrace.
Feeling content, I allow Victor to hold me until his words penetrate my brain.
“What prophecy?” I ask, feeling as if finally the answers are coming. Would I finally find out the real reason my parents were killed, why everyone knows about The Protectors, and yet no one does anything about them?
“I’m not sure, but my sire knew of them, though he never got to tell me what it was. However, I do know it’s written down somewhere. My sire was the keeper of the book of prophecies, but I don’t know what he did with it. Sorry I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it at all,” Victor answers with an apologetic shake of his head as he looks down at me and gently rubs his hands in circles on my back.
“It’s okay, I just thought we were finally getting somewhere,” I reply with a deep groan. “Where were you created?”
“I was created here in Ireland. My creator was from Transylvania, but he lived in America, Scotland, and many other countries. To be honest, if you wanted to look for the book, we would have to look everywhere.
“I don’t even know when he last had the prophecies or if he gave them to someone else. I only know he was the keeper in the first place, because he was around when they were written and given into his charge,” Victor replies in frustration, dragging his fingers through his hair and leaving it standing on end, making it look like he had just climbed out of bed.
“Look, guys, we gotta get back,” Jasmine pipes up.
I know she’s right, there are too many people who know about the murder, and we don’t want to be caught here especially with a vampire! Also if anyone caught Jasmine naked, it would be difficult to explain her state of undress and sudden appearance.
If no one has realized she’s a shapeshifter yet, for safety, I’d definitely rather not let them find her nude in human form. It’s going to be strange enough introducing her around. There would be tons of questions with my dog disappearing suddenly and the appearance of a friend with the same name.
“Okay, guys, we should head home.” I reluctantly step out of Victor’s arms. “Victor, call me when you remember what you wanted to tell me, about the soundproof streets and also if you remember anything that could help us find some answers.” Unwilling to lose contact with him I reach out and place my hand on his arm. “Be safe.”
“Nice meeting you, Victor, and like Candi said, stay safe.”
“And both of you be careful, too. We’re living in these dangerous times. You can’t take any chances especially with a killer on the loose. This guy is even sicker than we originally thought,” adds Victor with a shake of his head. “I still can’t believe they’re alive when…”
I guess he remembered my parents were murdered in the exact same way.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be safe. At least we’re together. Look after yourself and phone us if you feel anything out of the ordinary, especially if it’s a feeling you can’t explain.” I remembered the amount of times such feelings had saved my comrades and me when we were in the army.
“I will, and if you need me, call me and I’ll be there. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, wait, the soundproof streets…apparently it was done by magick to cover a kidnapping. Two vampires have gone missing, though I don’t know them. They were meant to have an interview at Sterling Nightclub and never showed up. It could be nothing, but to be honest it seems too much of a coincidence, to have them disappear on a night someone uses magick to soundproof the streets.” Victor flits away leaving us gaping in shock after him.
“He’s right, it is too much of a coincidence,” I mutter as I wonder what witch would have enough power to cause such a spell, let alone kidnap two vampires. “Come on, Jasmine; let’s head back to Grandma Eve’s.”
In silence we retreat. Glancing over at Jasmine, I can’t wait to move into the old Winters’ house, then she can stay in her human form whenever she wishes.
“I better change back,” she says, as if following my train of thought. “I really don’t want to, but…”
“I know, but for now it’s safer. But the moment we move into the old Winters’ house, you won’t have to unless you want to. I’ll start introducing you to a couple of people at a time. Mind you, I only know a couple of people.” I laugh.
“What’s happening tomorrow that you’re meeting Victor?” She transforms back into her dog form leaving me standing, staring in surprise. He had said he’d see me tomorrow, hadn’t he?
****
Following the werewolf detective, down to the basement of the hospital where the morgue and the technician’s lab are kept, the cloaked figure watches, as red-hot anger boils and licks through him. Consuming him in its intensity. He’d spilled one drop of blood…one; and he had found it! How? Lips thinning into a straight line, he forms a plan to retrieve his blood. Revenge will be sweet and a lesson will be learned. Silently he retreats up the stairs to return at a more suitable time.
****
We finally arrive back at my grandmother’s and to my great disappointment, there is no message from my solicitor. My grandmother is in, and I decide to have a chat with her, update her on matters of my new home and apologize about well—to be frank—being a complete bitch about the whole Protectors thing.
Just because I was upset about her not telling me what she knows, doesn’t mean she cares less, and after what I’d seen in the woods, I wonder how much everyone’s silence is related to fear? Still, if Grandma Eve knows anything about the prophecy, she’s going to tell me whether she likes it or not.
Walking into the sitting room, I’m shocked at how old she looks. It’s as if she’s aged ten years in less than a day.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” I demand as I rush to her side. Kneeling beside her chair, I reach toward her and grasp her hands in mine. “What’s happened? Are…”
“I’m fine, Candi. I am so glad to see you. I thought you’d gone. I thought I had driven you away like your mother,” sobs Eve, distressed at the thought of history repeating itself.
“Like my mother? What do you mean?”
“Yet a warning had already been sent, and I had pleaded with your parents to separate. They refused. I told them I wouldn’t help them, hoping they would go their separate ways if they thought there was no one to help, but they left and I never saw them again.
“They wrote to me when you were born, and your mother wrote to me when your father was murdered, and that was the last time I heard from your mum. If I had been more supportive, if I...”
“They would still be dead and so would you, Grandma,” I interrupt. My grandmother’s grip on my hands tightens as if she can prevent me from leaving unlike my mother.
“Mum and Dad talked about you often, and I grew up with knowledge of you and a picture of you by my bedside, and one of you and Mum on the mantel piece. They loved you and told me often how much they missed you. I once asked Mum why I’d never met you, and she told me it wasn’t safe. For us to go back would endanger you. She wrote you letters every week, and after she signed them she would burn them.”
“Why did she never post them?”
I watch as a look of puzzlement flickers across her face, before my grandmother focuses her attention back on me. I see regret and confusion swirling in her gray eyes, as well as sadness and grief.
“Because she was terrified they wouldn’t reach you and someone would find us. The letter Mum sent you after Dad was murdered was sent because we were moving. They knew where we were. Sending the letter wouldn’t matter for we’d gone by then,” I explain.
“Why did you think you had driven me away?” I gently ask turning my hand so I held my grandmother’s back.
“Because you were gone. I haven’t heard from you since you left me at lunch. That was two days ago,” sighs Eve, with a note of reproof in her voice.
Double Magick in the Falls Page 5
