by Dirk Patton
Thayer put on a perfect poker face. He’d been caught off guard, but he recovered very well.
“Not to worry. I doubt it’ll come to exhuming anyone, but if you can think of anything or anyone who you might suspect of dealing with occult beliefs, no matter how obscure, I’d be obliged if you let me know.” He pulled a card from his shirt pocket. “That’s got my cell number on it. Please don’t hesitate.”
Thayer stood and took the card in one smooth movement. “You may rest assured, Sheriff, that if I learn of anything at all, you’ll be the very first person I contact.”
“I appreciate that. I hope you can understand why I asked to speak to you alone. That sort of talk could cost a business a good deal of, well, business.”
The smile that crossed Thayer’s face was cool and professional. He kept his teeth hidden, which was good, because Carl could see the muscles in his jaws clenching tight. “I appreciate your discretion, Sheriff.”
“Last thing I ever want to see is an innocent man’s business hurt by nasty rumors. Well, last thing after a murder, of course.”
“Of course.” Thayer herded him toward the door, and Carl let himself be herded.
“If there’s any other news, I’ll be sure to keep you in the loop, Mister Thayer.”
“I appreciate that, Sheriff.”
“We’re here to serve and protect.” He smiled as he nodded to Missy and moved toward the main entrance. “Have a nice day now, ya hear?”
The spring air smelled sweet after the perfectly conditioned air inside the funeral home.
Carl did his best to suppress a chill as he climbed into his truck. A moment after he left the site, he was calling Wade Griffin.
* * *
He sat at his office seat for a long while with his hands clenched together in front of his face, his lips pursed tightly and pressed against the double fist of his interlocked fingers.
His stomach wanted to churn. His breath wanted to come in a dozen rushed gasps but he would not allow it. He couldn’t let this stop his plans. Not now. He was too close.
He’d been foolish. He’s made a dreadful mistake. He’d thought the local yokels incapable of dealing with the sort of efforts he'd put forth. He’d assumed they would be foolishly ignorant to all matters occult.
It was the heart, of course. He’d taken it, and he hadn’t really needed to, but he wanted to make a proper offering to Nsnigoth, and really, why not kill two birds with one stone? But the Sheriff was smarter than he looked, or he knew someone with knowledge of the occult. Perhaps the woman from the vision Darren had shown him. That seemed the most likely.
“Nothing to worry about.” Thayer’s voice was a hoarse whisper that he’d not have recognized had he been paying attention. “I can fix this. I shouldn’t have left Collett’s body to be found. I should have just made him disappear. And when I find this adept, whoever she is, that’s exactly what will happen to her.”
He moved his hands away from his face and placed them on his desk, wide fingers splayed, and snorted like a bull. He was so close to the reaping of souls. He had spent almost a year collecting them, keeping a low profile and catering to the oafish residents of Brennert County. He needed only a few more souls to have the exact number for the ritual. And then…
If Nsnigoth smiled upon his offering, Thayer would ascend to the level of an Outer Lord. It had happened only a few times in centuries, but the Outer Ones had raised humans to the level of minor gods before. He knew about the Soul Eaters and The Queen of Flies. Shadowed legends spoke of others, as recently as the Victorian era. Nsnigoth would recognize him. He felt it. He knew it. And nothing must jeopardize that.
He would tell the Kincaid woman that he was unavailable for the rest of the afternoon. His deacons could handle the two viewings currently in the parlor. Thayer had things to attend to.
* * *
Wade Griffin sat in a recliner in his living room with a legal pad and some notes he’d made earlier. He was lining up possible avenues of investigation into Mason and his crew. So far he’d hit one dead end after another. He still hadn’t heard anything from Broderick, and none of Griffin’s local sources had turned up anything.
It didn’t help that his mind kept drifting back to the other matter at hand. The partially eaten body with the missing heart. He and Carl had run into too many weird things since Griffin had moved back to Wellman. The town had always had a strange reputation, even when he was a kid. But the last couple of years, the place had become weird central.
He glanced over at Charon, who was seated on the couch surrounded by books. Her brow was furrowed in concentration. Griffin smiled, despite the seriousness of both their researches. Charon always threw herself into everything with laser-like focus. It was one of the things he loved about her.
Charon put a hand to the side of her head. “Griffin, something just passed one of my wards.”
Griffin sat up. “Any idea what?”
“No, but it isn’t human.”
One of the first things Carter Decamp had taught Charon was how to set up protective wards, a sort of supernatural early warning. If anything crossed one of the wards, she would know it. She had placed them around Griffin’s house, and unknown to Carl Price, around his place as well.
Griffin stood. He lifted his Beretta from the coffee table and slid it from its holster. “Do you know where they are?”
“Around the side of the house, near the garage.”
“Okay, you know the drill. Stay by the basement door. If they get past me, head for the safe room.”
“Jesus, Griffin. How can you be so calm?”
“I’m not. But panicking won’t help.”
Charon caught his arm for a moment. “Don’t get killed.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Griffin went out the front door. He wished he’d had time to grab some of Decamp’s ‘special’ ammunition. He’d just have to hope plain old bullets did the trick. He went around the corner of the house, gun pointed at the ground, but ready to bring up for target acquisition. Just like they teach you in cop school.
Griffin’s night vision was good. It only took him a few moments to adjust to the dark. As he came around the back of the house, he saw two figures fumbling at a window.
“Hey,” Griffin said.
Both figures spun toward him with speed that reminded him of a striking snake. Two men of average size. At a glance they looked human enough, though both had very pale skin. Then he got a good look at their hands. The fingers were long and gnarled and tipped with sharp claws. Charon was right. Not human.
One of the men, who had a wild bird’s nest of salt and pepper hair, started toward Griffin in a crouch. He came forward in an odd gait, not moving at all like a human being, almost as if his body was boneless. Again, Griffin thought of snakes.
Griffin said, “One warning. Don’t come any closer.”
The man grinned, showing sharp, ragged teeth. Griffin thought of the bite marks on Nathaniel Collett. The man crouched lower and then lunged forward with amazing speed.
Griffin fired two rounds, but the man twisted and one of the shots went wide. The other caught him in the shoulder, but he ignored it. A moment later he slammed into Griffin, grabbing his wrist with one clawed hand and seeking Griffin’s throat with the other.
Another man might have worried about trying to free the hand that held the gun. Griffin reacted to the moment. It was one of the things that had kept him alive. Instead of worrying about his weapon, Griffin smashed his forehead into the creature’s nose, shattering it. Whatever the thing was, it felt pain, because it jerked its head back, blackish blood leaking across its face.
With his free hand, Griffin grabbed the wrist of the arm holding his, stepped past the creature and then pivoted and swept the thing’s arm downward. It was a picture-perfect Aikido wheel throw and it sent the creature sprawling on its face. Griffin stepped up, put the 9mm to the back of the thing’s head, and pulled the trigger twice. That did the trick.
> Griffin heard the other creature running up behind him. It was almost on top of him as he turned, and he drove a side kick into its ribs, knocking it backwards. The thing landed in a crouch, then leaped at Griffin like some pouncing animal, claws spread wide.
One of the lessons Griffin’s karate sensei had taught him was to stay away from jumping kicks. Yeah, they look great in the movies, but once you’re in the air you can’t change direction. As the creature left the ground, Griffin took a step backwards, leveled the Beretta, and fired three shots into the thing’s face. It fell to the ground and didn’t move. The headshot was the way to go, apparently.
Griffin’s nose was assaulted by a terrible stench. He walked over to the first creature. The thing was… liquefying inside its clothes. He’d worry about that later. Griffin went back around the house, still scanning for more enemies.
He let himself back in. Charon was near the door leading to the basement. Her hands were empty but Griffin knew her pockets contained some of Decamp's conflagration dust and other items she could use if she had to.
“Are you okay?” Charon said.
“Yeah, for once they weren't bullet proof. But they were fast and mean. Pretty obvious they were the same sorts of things that killed Nathanial Collett. They had claws that looked like they could have torn his heart out.”
“I should have a look at them,” said Charon.
“They're melting or something,” Griffin said.
“Even more of a reason to hurry.”
“Not sure we should be outside.”
“You mean you're not sure I should be outside,” Charon said. “Nothing else has passed my wards and you'll be there to protect me. It might help if I can identify the things.”
Griffin said, “All right. But we'd better hurry. One of them was almost gone when I came in.”
Charon grabbed a flashlight and they went outside. Griffin was alert to any sound or movement. The night had turned cool. He hadn't noticed on his first trip out. Too pumped with adrenaline.
When they reached the fallen creatures, one was indeed completely gone. The other, apparently 'fresher' was still there, though fast falling apart.
“Wow, the stench is awful,” Charon said, breathing through the sleeve of her shirt.
Putrefaction is never pleasant,” Griffin said. “I was at a mass grave once where—”
“No stories, just now, dear,” Charon said. She played the flashlight beam around on the creature. “Jesus. Some sort of walking dead, but not a zombie exactly.”
“They didn't move like zombies for sure. They were fast, and their movements reminded me of the way snakes move. And they seemed smart. Something was behind their eyes.”
Charon crouched by the remaining figure. “These claws are interesting. Whatever possessed these men changed them.”
“Their teeth were changed too. Big and sharp, like a shark. Have you seen enough? I don't like staying in the open like this.”
“Yes, we can go in. I have some more research to do.”
“Any guesses as to what these things are?”
“Not yet. But I'm really glad they didn't kill you.”
Griffin said, “Me too. But whoever sent those things won't be nearly as happy when I find him.”
Charon said, “Or her. Don’t go getting sexist on me.” She was joking, of course.
* * *
Early the next morning, Griffin met Carl at their favorite Waffle House out on Hwy 41. A slow drizzling rain was falling, making the day cold and gloomy. Spring was determined not to spring, it seemed. That was fine. It fit Griffin's mood.
“You dig up anything on Thayer yet?” Griffin said.
“Not much. He moved to Wellman not quite two years back. Before that he lived in Virginia. He doesn't have a criminal record. Pays his taxes. Smarmy as hell, but he seems to be a solid citizen. Little old ladies love him.”
“And you don't like him.”
Carl smiled. “Not one damn bit.”
Griffin said, “Looks likely that he sent those things to my place last night.”
Carl waved at the waitress to bring him more coffee. He said, “I’d say yes. Nathaniel Collett complains about Thayer and something nasty kills him. Charon has a vision, or whatever the hell you call it, and something similar comes after her.”
“Which makes him what, you think? Some kind of sorcerer?”
Carl said, “Something like that, I guess. Charon got any insights?”
“Not yet, but she's still looking.”
“And I guess no word from Decamp still?”
“Nothing. So it's just Thayer and us,” Griffin said. “If he did it, things aren't going to go well for him.”
Carl gave a quick nod. “Yeah, he came to your home and threatened the woman you love. Can't let that pass.”
“I'm going to swing by his place later. Have a little chat.”
“I'll go too. Unofficially this time.”
Carl's phone buzzed. He looked at the screen, then took the call. He listened for a minute, then said, “Yeah. Okay. Tell him to stay put. I'm on my way.” He rang off, then said to Griffin, “Looks like we found the guy who bought the ring.”
“He's dead, I'm betting.”
“Very. Want to take a ride to a crime scene?”
Griffin stood. He spotted their favorite waitress and said, “Susan? Two large coffees to go.”
“We can take my truck,” Carl said. “I’ll bring you back here later.”
Moments later they were on the road and headed north. Griffin said, “Where are we going?” “The body was found in a rental house a little ways north of town. I don’t recognize the address, but I know that area is pretty sparsely populated.”
“Who found the body?”
“The landlord. Apparently he was out doing some work on his property early this morning and he spotted his tenant’s car parked out in the trees like someone had hidden it. He went to check on the guy and got the hell scared out of him when he tried to open the front door. Deputy said someone had rigged a flash-bang on the door frame.”
Griffin nodded. “Simple but effective. Serves as an alarm and blinds the intruder so you can kill him at your leisure.”
“Something a mercenary would do,” said Carl.
Griffin said, “Indeed. Fucking mercenaries.”
They found the place after making a bewildering series of turns on some back roads. The small house sat off in the trees at the end of one of the roads. A county cruiser and the medical examiner’s van were parked side by side in front of the place. A deputy was leaning on the van, talking to a guy in dirty work clothes. The landlord, Griffin presumed.
Carl parked beside the cruiser and he and Griffin stepped out of the truck. The rain was intermittent now, though the sky was still dark.
The deputy pushed off the van and walked toward Carl. He said, “Morning, Sheriff. Dr Morales is inside. This is Mr Brice, who owns the place. I’ve already taken his statement.”
“Good work, Lew. Go and see if the doctor needs anything while I talk to Mr Brice.”
Lew did as he was told. Brice, who was tall and lanky and older than Griffin had initially thought, said, “I’ve never had anything like this happen in all my years of renting properties.”
Carl said, “I understand you found your renter’s car hidden not far from here?”
“Yeah, he’d pulled it back into the trees like he was hiding it from someone.”
“What was the man’s name, sir?”
“Ted Keever. He had all the proper identification and stuff, Sheriff. No funny business.”
“I’m sure,” said Carl. “How long did he want the place?”
“Just for a month. He said he and his friend Mr Erwin were in town on a construction job but he wasn’t sure how long they’d be here, so he didn’t want to get into a lease on an apartment or anything. Asked if I’d let them rent month to month. I said I’d help them out.”
“For the right fee of course.”
B
rice grinned. “Keever paid cash up front, which helped his negotiating quite a bit, I can tell you.”
“That didn’t strike you as a little suspicious?”
Brice shrugged. “Sure, but like I said, he had the ID and such. Nothing illegal about a man paying cash.”
Griffin said, “Did you meet Mr Erwin too?”
“No, never met him. Keever made the deal.”
Which is probably why you’re still alive.
Carl said, “Did you rent any other houses to any out of towners?”
“No,” Brice said. “This is it.”
“Okay, Mr Brice. You can go. We may have some more questions for you later.”
“Um, am I going to have to clean the mess up in there or does the county handle that?”
“We have a service, sir. Thank you for your help.”
Brice didn’t look thrilled, but he didn’t ask any more questions. After he left, Carl said, “We’re figuring Mason’s crew was bigger than three men, so that means some of them are living somewhere else. I can run some checks on real estate companies locally.”
“Worth a shot, “Griffin said, “but I’m guessing wherever the others were staying, they’re not there anymore. Mason would know we’d follow that kind of lead once we found his dead former employee.”
“Speaking of the dead guy, we should have a look.”
They went into the house. Lew the deputy was leaning against the doorframe of a small den. He stepped aside to let Carl and Griffin pass. The deceased lay on his back. The front of his shirt was stained brown and a pool of dark blood had spread from under the body.
Lisa Morales, the new head Medical Examiner, was crouched by the body. She looked up and said, “Morning, Sheriff. Griffin.”
Carl said, “Morning. What have we got?”
