Let’s see, I thought as I traced the street names with my finger. Hayline Street, huh? For some reason the name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I ran my eyes over the map, checking each street name as I passed.
Baker, Quick Dig, Morris, Ley Line … Ah! A string of streets ending in “line.” Core Line, Lime Line, Hayline! That’s it! That’s …
My mind slowed to a stop as I stared down at the street. I did know the street. In fact, I knew there was only one house on it. I stared down at the small, black circle I’d inked in a few days earlier.
Hayline was where Felix Bayou lived.
Chapter 12
“Felix!” I called as I stepped out of my Rover. “Hey, Felix!” The sun was up now, just barely past the horizon but up all the same, and I shaded my eyes with my hands as I turned to look around the front of his property. “Felix?”
“Back here!” he called, stepping around the side of his house and waving a hand. I nodded, waving in return as I started towards him, staff tapping against the ground as I walked.
“I came as soon as I heard,” I said as I drew closer. I wasn’t exaggerating either. I’d taken one of the faster showers of my life, and probably pushed the speed limit rather hard on my way out. But I wanted see the chupacabra’s handiwork for myself, check for signs of life in the area to see if it was still around or if it had already gone, maybe see if Mercury could identify any scents.
“How bad is it?” I asked as I followed Felix past the side of the house.
“Bad,” Felix said, shaking his head. His normally friendly expression was gone, his face grim-set with eyes narrowed, and his hand was resting on the butt of the revolver holstered around his waist. I didn’t know if he was wearing it because he was angry or for some other reason, but I decided not to ask. “I lost a full-grown cow this time.”
I almost came to a stop out of pure surprise. “A full-grown cow?” I asked in near-disbelief.
“You don’t believe me?” Felix asked, glancing in my direction as we rounded the back of his home. “I don’t blame you, but you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
“I believe you,” I said as we started down a well-worn path towards a plain wooden fence. “It’s just … One chupacabra couldn’t eat that much blood. You’d need a herd of them.”
“Well, maybe that’s how they got past the runes,” Felix said. “Overloaded ‘em.” The path began to rise, the rest of Felix’s pen appearing in front of us.
“The runes might have burned out early,” I said as we approached the gate. “But numbers shouldn’t have been a problem.”
“I’m just throwing ideas out there,” Felix said with a shake of his head as he pulled the pen open. “All I know is that I’m out another cow. I’m runnin’ out. I only had eight. Now I’m down to five.” We stepped into the pen, and he pulled the gate shut behind us with a bit more force than was necessary. “Worse, I have to be on my shift at the mine in another hour, so I’ve got to either freeze ‘er or leave her where she is and have a butcher come out and see what he can save.” He shook his head again. “Dammit, what a mess. This way, it’s not far.”
We moved along the fence for a few minutes, cutting across a corner of the pasture at one point to save time. I didn’t see any of his other cows. Maybe they were keeping their distance.
“Felix,” I asked as something occurred to me. “You grew up in town, didn’t you? Your dad owned this land before you?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Well, I’m curious about a few things. Didn’t the mine own this land back then? And did your father or your grandfather ever have problems with chupacabras?”
“None of us have ever owned more than dogs until now,” Felix replied, his face still grim. “And I’m beginnin’ to see why now, too. As for the land, we bought the bit the house is on—or my grandfather did—back when it was first sold, right after the big war. The rest of it we’ve bought from the city over the years.”
“Have your neighbors ever had a problem with chupacabras?”
“What neighbors?” Felix asked, glancing at me. “I might have a few now, but thirty years ago?” He let out a snort. “We were outside of town, just the way granddad liked it.” I nodded. He’d answered my question, though not in the way I’d been hoping.
The ground ahead of us grew rocky, rising into what looked almost like a hill of broken boulders and rock sticking up from the ground like spines on a porcupine. Thick brush had sprung up in the shadows, taking root at the base of the stones and spreading out like a tan jungle. The fence fell away to the side, choosing to wrap around the rock instead of cutting across it—an entirely understandable approach.
“She’s just around these,” Felix said, his determined stride not even slowing as he pressed through the thick brush. I followed, glad for my decision to wear jeans as the rough branches snapped against my legs.
The smell hit me first as I Felix and I made out way around the rocks. It was a sharp, cutting. Not the kind of scent that made you recoil or cover your nose, but the kind that grabbed your attention, a scent that slid through your consciousness like a knife, cutting away any part of you that wouldn’t pay it attention. It was a scent that every human recognized, like it or not, on an almost subconscious level: the scent of blood.
Felix’s cow lay on her side, shrubbery and bushes around her beaten down as if she’d circled the area a few times before deciding to lie down and die. Her throat was towards us, and I could see the long, lethal gash that had opened her arteries, bleeding her dry in minutes.
As I drew closer, other scents began to assault me. A musky odor that was undoubtedly the cow herself: Rich, thick, and growing stagnant by the minute in the hot sun. There was another smell too—one that was musty, almost like old leather—but it was faint, and for a moment I wondered if I had imagined it. I crouched by the cow’s side, squinting as I took in the wound across her neck. It was straight, like it had been made with a scalpel. No jagged ends, no tears. Just a single, precise incision that stretched neatly from artery to artery.
I’d never seen anything like it. Felix crouched next to me and started to say something, but I held up my hand, cutting him off. I dropped one knee to the ground as I leaned in closer, prodding the cow’s head with one hand and shifting it against the dirt so the wound pulled open a little further.
I’d been right at first glance. It was a solitary, precise cut. No deviation, no correction; just a straight line from one side of the throat to the other. I couldn’t have made a better slice myself with a scalpel.
Felix still silent, I prodded the animal once more, this time around the wound. I was a little hesitant at first, but when my initial poke brought my fingers back clean save for a bit of dried blood, I pushed forward. I grabbed the loose flesh around the wound, pulling it away from the ground and inspecting both the cow and the ground beneath her. Remarkably, both were entirely clear of blood.
Now that’s weird, I thought, letting go and wiping my hands on my jeans to get the flecks of dried blood off. A gash that size would definitely leave a lot more blood on the ground and around the wound, so … where is it?
“Is this where she died?” I asked, my boots scratching against the ground as I turned to look at Felix.
“What?” he asked, his grim expression supplanted by one of confusion.
“Is this where she died?” I asked again. “Or did you just find her here?”
“Well, this is where I found her …” he began, his brow furrowing. “What makes ya think she died somewhere else?”
“The blood,” I said, tapping the barely stained ground in front of her neck. “Or rather, the lack of it.”
“It’s the same as both the other times,” Felix said, shaking his head. “Those little buggers get everything. Hell, half the meat was dry when I butchered the last two cows. Won’t taste half as good as it should when I cook it.”
“So the other two were just like this?” He nodded again, and I turned back toward
s the carcass, surprised at the efficiency. I’d had no idea that an animal could be so … clean … about something like this. I stood, brushing my legs off as I took a quick look around. There certainly wasn’t any sign that the animal had been dragged here, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.
A few minutes of tapping at brush with my staff, and I came to the conclusion that if it had been dragged, I wasn’t going to find out by walking around doing a Gandalf impression. I’d need help.
“Hey, Felix,” I said, pulling his attention away from the carcass. “Where’s Mercury?”
“She won’t come out here,” he said, shaking his head. “Won’t even leave the house. That’s why I’m wearing this,” he said, his hand tapping the butt of his revolver. “She woke me up about two hours ago barking, but she whined when I tried to get ‘er to follow me out. Wouldn’t leave, not even when I bribed her.”
“And you still came out here?” I said, surprised. “You’ve got some courage.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t come unprepared,” he said with a low laugh that sounded like dirt being kicked through a washer. “I had my shotgun with me. Anything out ‘ere that wasn’t supposed to be, I was ready to blow its brains out.”
“What about the rest of your cows?”
“All up in the other end of the pasture, as close to the fence as they can get,” Felix said, prodding the cow’s limp form with his foot. “Guess they’re about as uninterested in seein’ this as Mercury was.”
“Or they just noticed something we haven’t,” I said, crouching alongside the cow’s body once more. It hadn’t started to bloat yet, but a few attempts to move the legs showed that the body had stiffened. All that told me was that she had been there for a while, but I wasn’t exactly sure how long.
“And you said they got past the rune?” I asked, looking at Felix once more.
“Eeyup,” he replied, jerking his head towards the fence. “Right over here, actually. I’ll show you.” We moved away from the cow’s corpse, making our way towards the fence along the downward curve of the ground as it angled away from the jutting rocks.
“You said it was overloaded?” I asked as the fence drew closer. It wasn’t much, just a series of posts with chunks of what looked like split logs braced through them and some glimmering wire that was probably barbed running through the middle.
“Well,” he said, “not exactly overloaded, but …” He came to a stop and leaned over the fence, tapping something on one of the posts. “This is where the rune was,” he said. I bent over the wood, my eyes following.
The post had been hacked to pieces, whole chunks of wood gouged out of its side and scattered on the ground nearby. My eyes widened as I took in the damage, following every cut and slash that had carved its way across the wood. It looked like a wild animal had gone berserk—or maybe a psychopath with a very tough, very sharp knife. Felix pulled back the strand of barbed wire and I slid through the fence, pulling my staff along behind me.
“Ya ever seen anything like this?” Felix asked as I bent down to inspect the bits of wood that had been hacked off. I could still make out the faint etchings of Rocke’s rune in some of them, the small, carefully designed marks completely overshadowed by the deep, clawing wounds that had torn them apart. I picked up a chunk from the ground, rolling it in my hand and noting the difference in the edges of the wood. One side had been cut, the other broken, as if the wood had been pried free. Something about it sent a shiver down my spine, and I dropped it.
“No,” I said, my attention shifting to the dirt around my feet. “I haven’t. Rocke might have, though.” I could see scuff marks in the dirt, faint but as yet undisturbed by the wind. The ground was too hard to have left any clear footprints, but the amount of recently disturbed topsoil made it clear something had been there that had physically torn into the post.
But how? Chupacabras had long, dangerously sharp claws, but they weren’t exactly tall. And how strong was a chupacabra anyway? Strong enough to tear the runes out of a piece of wood?
Apparently, I told myself as I stood again. I nodded to Felix and he pulled the barbed wire back, allowing me to slip back through to his side of the fence. I made a mental note to call an expert on the subject, someone who studied chupacabras, maybe done an autopsy or two. Or at least watched the autopsy videos and known exactly what they were looking at.
“Anything else you want to do?” Felix asked.
“Just one thing,” I said, reaching out with my mind and opening myself to the life around me. I could feel Felix’s own strong pulse, a vivid aura that was both part of him and not at the same time. I sent my senses out further, shutting my eyes as Felix gave me a curious look. It wasn’t necessary, but it would let him know I was doing something.
I could sense dozens, no, hundreds of lives all around me as I pushed my awareness farther out. Most of them were washed out, the simple existences of the flora all around me, but I could sense larger life signs here and there. Mostly larger plants or small animals like mice that had holed up in the rocks by the dead cow. I tightened my focus, feeling for anything.
Nothing. There was nothing hiding nearby larger than a squirrel. Certainly nothing giving off as much life force as a chupacabra would have. The closest thing I could find was Felix, and he certainly wasn’t what I was looking for.
My stomach gave a faint, unpleasant twinge, and I frowned as I pulled my senses back. Apparently, skipping breakfast had been a less wise idea than I had thought.
“So?” Felix asked as I opened my eyes and squinted against the harsh glare of the sun. “Anything?”
“Not that I noticed outright,” I said, shaking my head. “But I’m afraid I do have a request.” I stepped over to the cow’s corpse and bent down, staring at the long, angular cut again. “Don’t send this to a butcher.”
“What?”
“Is there a vet here in Silver Dreams?” I asked as I poked at the cut along the throat again.
“Yeah,” Felix said. “Why?”
“I want to get this cow autopsied,” I said, looking up at him. “Call the vet instead of that butcher. If at all possible, I’d like them to take a look at this before the sun does anything more to it.”
“Well … all right,” Felix said, nodding. “I can do that. It’s gonna be a beast to haul outta here anyway, doesn’t really matter who it goes to in the end, I guess.”
“Good,” I said, taking one last look at the gash running across the animal’s neck. “And give me his number. I’m going to want to talk to him as soon as he’s done.”
“I can do that,” Felix said, turning away from the cow and heading back towards the house. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” I said as I began to follow him. “Don’t stop carrying that gun.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I said, taking one last look back at the cow’s dead, vacant eyes. “Definitely.”
* * *
“—is outrageous!” The angry shout boiled out of the hospital’s front door as it slid open in front of me, and I fought the urge to let out a groan as I recognized the voice. Apparently, the universe had decided that one unexpected surprise wasn’t enough for the morning. Then again, the man standing in front of the nurse’s desk, arms raised as he glared at the duty nurse and the two police officers standing nearby, wasn’t exactly unexpected.
“Sheriff,” one of the officers said, his voice raised. “You have no jurisdiction here and worse, no warrant.”
“To hell with jurisdiction!” Hanks yelled as I walked into the room. “This man was found outside city limits, which makes him the responsibility of the county. My responsibility, my jurisdiction. He was working with David Jefferson, a member of this community who has since vanished, and this morning, my deputies found Jefferson’s car less than a mile from where you claim this man was found. I don’t need a warrant: I have probable cause!” Hanks’ voice rose with each word, his hands gesticulating wildly.
“You want to talk about jurisdiction?” he
yelled. I stepped to one side as I came closer, my grip tightening around my staff.
“Do your duty to the people of this community, not some out-of-town Unusual,” Hanks said, his last word coming out as a sneer. “Stand out of my way, or I will speak with your superiors, and you’ll find yourselves severely reprimanded, all out of loyalty to some freak!” Hanks’ finger came down in a jab, stopping an inch above one of the officer’s faces. “Now, get out of my way!”
“With all due respect, sheriff,” the officer said, his eyes narrowing. “Go to hell.”
For a moment, the two stared at one another, completely silent. I came to a stop nearby and saw both the other officer’s and the nurse’s eyes dart towards me. The other officer gave his head a quick side-to-side shake. Don’t get involved, he was saying. Don’t step in.
“I’m going to repeat myself one. More. Time,” Hanks said, taking a step forward and glaring up at the cop. “And if you don’t get out of my way—”
“Sheriff Hanks!” All eyes shifted to a tall, thin man in a white lab coat rushing out of the hallway, calling out in a firm, authoritative tone as he waved his spindly fingers. “Sheriff Hanks!”
“Doctor Morris, just the man I wanted to see,” Hanks said, turning away from the officer, who let out an audible sigh of relief. “These officers and your nurse—”
“Are doing their job, Mr. Hanks!” Morris said, his eyes seething with rage. “I know what’s been going on in here. Half the hospital heard what you said, including your granddaughter!”
Hanks’ face, however impossibly, darkened even more as he took a step towards the doctor, glaring up at him. “You leave my granddaughter out of this,” he said, his voice growing low. “I’m doing this to keep her safe.”
“I will leave her out of this,” Morris said, looking down at the sheriff without a shred of fear on his gaunt face. “And from now on, so will you. Unless you or one of your deputies is suffering from an injury, you and they are banned from this hospital.” He snapped one of his long, thin fingers, and two security guards came out of the hall behind him, looking understandably nervous. “Notices will be issued to all staff. Now, please remove yourself from the premises, or these two gentlemen will be forced to eject you.”
Dead Silver Page 21
