The Depths of the Hollow (Mercy Falls Mythos Book 2)

by Nathaniel Reed

mayor.

  “Lucio comes here every now and then to bring me blood, or let me know if he needs something.”

  “Something?” Blake questioned, “Like what

  exactly?” He let the anger at the mention of Lucio, the vampire that had murdered his wife, not show on his face.

  The mayor debated whether or not to tell Blake about the new recruits, ultimately deciding against it. If he was going to go after Walter, he’d get a nice surprise when there were three other vamps waiting for him. And if he happened to kill Walter in the end, well, he didn’t much mind that either. It was a win win no matter how you stacked it.

  “Well,” the mayor measured his response, “Such as passing legislation that will help them; like dissuading officials from imposing curfews, or steering police away from crime scenes until they can adequately cover up evidence, or provide alibis.” Charles Tremont grinned. “Ain’t government grand?”

  “I’m a libertarian,” Blake retorted.

  The mayor crinkled his nose in disgust.

  Blake said, “You’re a real class act Mister Mayor. Have they had you murder anyone for them? Bring them victims?”

  Tremont raised his hands up, palms toward them. “My hands are clean.”

  “I doubt that,” Blake scowled. “What else can you tell me?”

  “Nothing,” the mayor said, “I don’t know anything else.”

  “Carl,” Blake said. Carl Napier poked him again, this time going in a little deeper with the point of the spear.

  “Ah, fuck!” the mayor said, and then surprised Carl by grabbing the spear and butting the shaft into Carl’s forehead. Carl was knocked over. Blake fired the gun, but the mayor had already ducked behind the desk. He had misjudged the mayor’s cunning and strength, for when Blake rushed toward the desk with his gun arm extended the mayor lifted the desk over his head and flung it at him.

  Blake managed to step aside and avoid the full

  brunt of it, but his arms were hit, and the gun flew from his hand. The mayor leapt to his feet, but Carl, who was on the ground beside him, swept his feet out from under him with his legs. The back of the mayor’s head hit the wall, putting another dent in the plaster.

  Carl got up, picking up his spear. He had an angry red welt on his brow from where the mayor had hit him with it. Mayor Tremont recovered quickly, rising to block the thrust of Carl’s spear.

  Blake was on the ground, and getting up himself. The mayor wasn’t going to let him get his gun back. He pushed Carl aside, tackling Blake. When Blake stumbled, but didn’t go down, the mayor restrained him against the wall. He had one of his arms pinned, but before he could pin the other, Blake managed to grab the knife from his belt holster and stabbed Tremont in the ribs. The Kevlar blocked most of it, but the blade got through a gap in the seams, enough to spill blood, causing the mayor to release his other arm. Carl came in from behind and rammed the spear through the center of his back. The Kevlar did not stop most of that. The mayor screamed, for an instant looking like a giant bug squirming on the head of a pin. Carl tugged on the spear, towing the mayor with it, away from Blake, until it released on its own, and the mayor fell forward.

  His head was turned to the side on the floor, watching Carl from his peripheral vision. The mayor was already turning, ready himself to rise. Carl stomped on his back to hold him down. The mayor twisted his upper body, grabbing the leg that held him, and twisting it. There was a snap and Carl fell, howling in pain.

  Blake ran for the gun on the ground, but the mayor

  swiftly spider crawled across the floor to meet him, pouncing onto Blake. He didn’t have a firm grip, and Blake was able to flip the mayor off of him. The mayor, quickly recovering and bounding back onto his feet, backhanded Blake with a closed fist, sending him reeling into the wall. It felt like he was struck with a block of concrete.

  Mayor Charles Tremont, assuming Blake was down for a while, turned to finish off Carl, which proved to be his undoing. Where Blake landed on the floor was only several feet from the weapons chest. He managed to get to it, and retrieve the spare revolver. When Mayor Tremont bent to pick up Carl, Blake aimed at the only thing that was an easy target from where he lay. The bullet hit the mayor square in the middle of his left butt cheek, nearly making him fall onto Carl. He caught his balance, clutching his rear, turning to Blake. “You shot me in the ass, you fucking shit!”

  “I know,” Blake said, pointing the gun at his head, now that he had a clear shot. He pulled the trigger, and the gun jammed. “Damn it!”

  On the ground behind the mayor Carl picked up his spear and thrust upward, driving it through the back of the mayor’s leg, through the crook of his knee, punching out the other side near his thigh.

  He staggered. “Gaaahhh, that hurts!”

  Blake didn’t notice when someone walked through the doorway, passing him, until a voice said, “Not as much as this is going to hurt.”

  There was a flash of steel, and the mayor’s head took off, spinning through the air, a gruesome volleyball. It struck the wall, and rolled, disappearing behind the desk. The mayor’s arms flailed for a few seconds, his hands searching for the misplaced head, blood shooting out from the neck stump, and then his body flopped over, the spear still jammed in its leg.

  Carl groaned, the pain in his leg throbbing now. He

  looked up, woozy, drifting in and out, to see that the voice belonged to a twenty-something petite woman wearing a tank top, blue jeans, and flip-flops. She had a pretty face with blue eyes and dark hair, a really adorable bob cut with bangs that swung upward, framing it perfectly. In one of her hands she held a rusty machete, dripping with the blood from her kill.

  “Whoa,” Carl said, “sexy,” and fainted.

  PART THREE

  SACRIFICE

  “Yes, run for your life. Save your life. Let the walls of your gingerbread house come crashing down.”

  -My So Called Life

  “There’s nothing like a trail of blood

  to find your way back home.”

  -Sixx: A.M.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  TWO REUNIONS

  “Do you think he could be moved further down?” Ben whispered to Detective Faraday.

  The kid Dominic was glaring at him through the cell bars. There were no dividing walls between cells, just bars, and although Dominic was three cell blocks removed from him, he could still see clear to where Benjamin stood.

  Faraday said, “I’d rather not risk it.”

  One of the deputies came in and said, “Sir, a few of the officers are beginning to worry. We haven’t seen or heard from Bull since yesterday afternoon, and we can’t seem to raise him on his radio or his cell phone.”

  As a matter of fact, now that he thought of it, Faraday hadn’t got a report on what Steven Jenkins had or had not told him, not that the sheriff had to tell him any-thing, but he usually did. And he hadn’t made contact with him since yesterday either.

  “That is odd,” Faraday said. He wasn’t overly concerned yet, but it bore checking out. He knew Bull could handle himself, but it wasn’t like him not to check in. “I’ll check it out.”

  He looked at Ben. Ben concurred, “Duty calls.”

  

  After trying to get the encounter with that strange man and woman out of her head, Emily and her fiancé, made their way to the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts, bringing some much needed fuel for the day back to the hotel where Tom’s fiancée Meredith and their young son Wesley

  waited. They’d slept in and missed the continental break-

  fast, and were excited to open the brown paper sacks.

  “Here’s to a good day of searching,” Meredith raised her cup of coffee.”

  Emily bumped her Styrofoam cup with Meredith’s. “Here here!”

  “Daddy?” Wesley said.

  “I hope so,” Emily smiled. Her nephew didn’t seem to understand everything, but he knew who they were looking for.

  “So there’s one T. Killian in Mercy Falls in the phone
book,” her beau Frederick said. “What are the odds this is the one?”

  “Considering how many Killians there actually are in the U.S., and how many we’ve already searched through I’d say pretty good,” Emily said, not approving of his doubtful tone.

  “Assuming he’s in the U.S.,” Frederick added.

  “Yes, assuming that,” Emily said, perturbed.

  “We’re going to find him,” Meredith assured her.

  “Yes, yes we will,” Emily said, trying to convince herself.

  

  Amelia Rivers lay in bed, rising an hour before work. Kelly was in the living room watching the TV with the volume low, a constant reminder of everything that had gone wrong with her life. She didn’t want a discussion, and she didn’t want to have to do it, but she couldn’t stand it any more. Once she was dressed and on her way out the door she glanced at her roommate. Kelly looked up.

  “I need you to move out of here by next month,” Amelia told her.

  Kelly frowned, but didn’t appear all that surprised. “Okay,” she said.

  Glad that there were no further words, no “I have

  nowhere to go,” speech; which she didn’t really care if her roommate did or not at this point; Amelia could now go to work with some peace of mind. Until she started worrying she wouldn’t be able to find another roommate and would be left paying the bills on her own.

  

  There were only two and a half weeks left until the next full moon, and Thomas Killian pulled in his driveway, with that mental countdown ticking away in his head. He’d taken to keeping calendars on several walls throughout the house at all times, making hash marks across each day as they passed, circling the full moon symbol for each month.

  Today he arrived home from work, unaware that his sister, fiancée, and unborn child (now three) that he’d left years before, safe, were in town looking for him. Within the hour there was a knock at the door.

  He went to answer. He customarily asked who it was, but he was so exhausted he didn’t bother this time. Thomas could not believe what he saw when he opened the door.

  “Tom?” Emily said, “Oh my God, it is you!”

  It took him a moment to realize that his sister was actually standing at the door, and that it wasn’t a dream. “Em?” He hugged her slowly, taking her in, burying his head in her shoulder and crying. She cried as well. They held each other for several minutes.

  But she wasn’t the only surprise.

  “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t find you. I’ve brought some other people with me.”

  Standing a few feet back were three others- a woman, a man, and a small child.

  They stepped closer to the door.

  The woman was his betrothed, his lady Meredith.

  He embraced her. “Oh my sweet love, I’m so sorry.”

  Meredith gestured with her arm, waving toward the boy. “Thomas, this is our son; your son- Wesley.”

  “My... son?” He understood what she meant but he was still having trouble wrapping his head around it. It was too much, all at once.

  He stooped down to the boy’s level. “Hello,” he smiled. The boy smiled back but quickly hid his face.

  “It’s all right Wes, this is your Dad,” Meredith said. He clearly needed more convincing as he went around her, hiding behind her legs, poking his head out from her side to look at the stranger.

  “And this is my fiancé Frederick,” Emily said.

  Tom shook his hand, “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Your eye! What happened to your eye?” Emily said, touching the patch over it.

  “Don’t,” he brushed her hand off. He looked at his sister. “How did you find me? You weren’t supposed to find me.”

  Emily frowned. “You should be grateful that we spent all this time and money to look for you Thomas! We didn’t know if you were still alive or dead.”

  “I suppose you want an explanation.”

  “Yes,” Meredith said simply. Behind the love there was some anger and resentment. She must have thought he was a terrible father to have left his son behind without a word, but he was only protecting them.

  “All right,” Tom Killian acquiesced, “but you may not believe what I have to tell you. Come in.”

  

  He went through the sheriff’s office, looking through the papers that Jack had left scattered about, and on the second one down he found what he was looking for. Sheriff Jack Turnbull had found it- the answer- the Drakos estate. Anastasios Drakos, a Greek immigrant had

  purchased the property roughly five years ago.

  “Son of a bitch!” Faraday exclaimed, “I think the

  crazy fucker went after them on his own!”

  Right away he assembled several officers, and put out an APB on the missing sheriff. They needed a reason and a plan to go in there, because right now he only had his gut, and instincts weren’t enough for a search warrant. And if the rest of the coven could do what the woman Zabat was capable of, they might need something more than men, or firepower.

  Ben knew something was wrong, and wished he

  could help the detective, but he couldn’t even help himself at the moment. That was when he heard a dog bark. He thought maybe it was a K-9 unit dog. Never in a million years did he suspect it was his own.

  “You can’t bring a dog in here ma’am!” an officer shouted.

  “I want to see Ben!” a woman shouted. Funny, she sounded just like his ex-wife.

  “Ah crap,” Ben said.

  His wife and two boys walked through the door with their dog Thunder, a brown and black German Shepherd.

  “Hey!” the officer called after them.

  “It’s all right,” Ben said, “I know them.

  “That’s fine, but the dog has to go.”

  Ben nodded. “Just give us a moment.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you got arrested? What the hell?” she said.

  “I didn’t want you to come all the way from North Carolina, for one. I didn’t think you’d care for another.”

  The dog went up to sniff him. Ben put his hand through the bars.

  “Hey Thunder, how are you boy?”

  The German Shepherd backed away, a low growl in its throat.

  “It’s Dad,” his youngest boy, Connor said. “What’s

  wrong with you Thunder?”

  The dog continued to back away, whining, and then

  barking.

  “Even the dog knows you’re a monster,” Dominic Finch said from his cell.

  “All right,” the officer said, “Dogs gotta go.”

  His ex-wife sent the older boy to take him outside.

  “What is going on in here?” Faraday says, walking in.

  “Detective,” Ben said, “Meet my family. The

  mother of my children, Carol, and my son Connor. Brandon, my other son, is currently outside with the family dog Thunder.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Faraday said, extending his hand to Carol. She ignored him, turning back to Ben.

  “So what are you doing in here?”

  Faraday made a gesture behind her, as if he was shooting himself in the head. Ben nodded, restraining a smile.

  “I’ll tell you what he’s doing in here,” Dominic piped up, “Motherfucker’s a werewolf!”

  Carol looked over at him, incredulous. “Excuse me, what?”

  “Don’t listen to him. That young man is crazy; he’s been taking meth. He is trying real hard to get off it. It’s truly commendable; poor kid.”

  “Did he just say you’re a were-”

  Detective Faraday gently led her by the shoulders. “I’m sorry ma’am; I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Visiting hours are over.”

  “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon,” Carol said.

  “I’m really sorry,” Faraday said, moving her along, “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  He locked the door to the station behind them.

  “Thanks,” Be
n sighed.

  “No worries, I had an ex like that too,” the detective told him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ONE SMALL ESCAPE

  Now that they’d driven the police car out of the city and buried the body, Drakos and the rest of the coven assumed they were in the clear. Unless the policeman, this Jack Turnbull, according to his license, had gone and told someone where he was going, they had no reason to suspect this place.

  That was until the security cameras caught the detective sneaking around outside the gates.

  “Should we greet the policeman?” Berenice asked.

  “No,” Drakos shook his head. “He won’t find anything. Sophia even took precautions getting rid of the tire tracks. If he comes ringing we’ll meet him at the gate, but I don’t think he will. He’s just... curious.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because, if he had anything concrete, there would be a squad of police cars out there, and he wouldn’t be foolhardy enough to attempt coming in alone, after his friend vanished doing the same.”

  “Fair point.”

  They waited until the officer left.

  “You see?” Drakos pointed out, “They have nothing.”

  k

  Nothing, Faraday thought. Not even a clue. But he knew it in his gut. Turnbull had gone there. Now if he could only figure out where this Anastasios Drakos went about during the day, maybe he could put a tail on him, uncover something that might help him.

  The only person he believed could have some inkling as to what was going on in this town, and what they might be planning was the mayor. Dave Faraday would find out within the hour that the mayor was dead, and along with it answers. He could guess what they planned to do with the pregnant girl and her child. Then there was the case of the other missing boy, Liam Rathby, taken from the Supra-mart parking lot. They’d found no prints at that scene where his sister Hilda was killed, or at the one near Mills Park where they killed the mother Melissa. Just a lot of unexplained injuries and accounts of being thrown back through the air by an unseen energy, and being held back by an “invisible force field,” so that the witnesses could not intervene. A month ago he would have scoffed at such accounts, but now, he could almost believe anything.