shadows of salem 01 - shadow born

by hamilton, rebecca

  “Thomas Garrison?” The man scrunched up his face, and his beady eyes just about disappeared behind his pudgy cheeks. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  I frowned. “You don’t remember one of your hotel rooms catching fire a couple weeks ago?”

  Jenkins’s chins wagged as he laughed. “Ma’am, I think I would have remembered if one of our rooms burned down. You don’t see any construction going on around here, do you?” He swept a dinner-plate-sized hand around, indicating the motel.

  “No,” I admitted, and that was puzzling indeed. “But it’s been over three weeks since it happened, and I figured maybe you guys had already repaired the place.”

  Jenkins shook his head. “Takes the boss-lady forever to get any maintenance done around here. Of course, a burned down room would be a priority, so maybe I’m wrong. But I definitely would have remembered if anything like that had happened, and it hasn’t.” Folding his arms, he peered at me with beady eyes. “You sure this is the right motel?”

  “Yes,” I growled, fisting my hands at my sides. Goddammit, I’d gotten the details from the file Captain Randall had given me this morning. I’d seen the pictures. Hell, I even knew which room he’d been in. “Take me to room 104.”

  Jenkins frowned. “Now hang on there,” he protested, “I can’t just go letting you barge into motel rooms and disturbing our—”

  I slapped my badge on the sliver of counter in front of the window. “Take me there now, or I’ll arrest your ass for obstruction of justice.”

  Jenkins stared at me for a long moment. Whatever he saw in my eyes made him decide not to fuck with me, because he hefted himself out of his chair with a curse. He squeezed himself out of the shack, muttering under his breath the entire time, and I thought I heard him say “bitch cop” as he locked the door behind him.

  And here I thought he was about to bring me flowers.

  The enormous key ring at Jenkins’s belt jangled with every lumbering step as he led me across the lot and to the room in question. We stopped in front of one of the many dark green doors, and I inspected the peeling brass numbers as he fumbled with the lock.

  CHAPTER 8

  Here we go…

  The door swung open, and I pressed my lips together as I entered the room ahead of Jenkins. There was not a single hint of fire in the space—not a whiff of smoke or a touch of blackness on the white walls or the wooden bed frame. The pale brown carpet beneath my feet might have been ratty, but it was intact, not even a scorch mark or cigarette burn to be seen.

  “See?” Jenkins demanded, folding his arms across his massive chest again. “No fire.”

  “I do see,” I murmured, running my fingers across the bedspread. I frowned when nothing happened—usually I got a good flash when I touched a bed of any kind, and yes, that was a pun. But I saw no naked people rolling in these sheets, or watching TV, or even sleeping.

  “What are you doing?” Jenkins demanded as I walked the room, gliding my fingertips across every available surface. “I don’t have time to stand here while you waltz around.”

  I twisted my lips as I skimmed my fingertips across the dresser. “Yes, I’m sure playing Tetris on your phone is very important.”

  Huffing, Jenkins pulled out his phone, presumably to play on it while I worked. The space was small, but though I touched nearly every available surface, I couldn’t get a single vision. Just like in Maddock’s nightclub, somebody had wiped every trace of memory from this place.

  Sighing, I leaned against the radiator, wondering what my next move was. My fingers brushed against the grate, seeking warmth, and I got a flash of a man standing in the middle of the room.

  The drapes were closed, the space tinted yellow by the single light fixture hanging from the ceiling, and the man’s trench-coat-covered back faced mine as he muttered some kind of foreign language under his breath.

  He pointed toward the bed, and my eyes widened as the mattress burst into flame. The fire grew faster than I thought possible, devouring the mattress as it stretched upward, outward, licking at the flames and the carpet. I was sure it would reach the man next, sure that he would be burned to a crisp…

  Except the man was gone.

  “Ma’am, I really do need to get back to the front desk now.” Jenkins’s voice snapped me out of the vision, and I saw him leaning against the doorjamb.

  “Yeah, sure.” I let out a shaky breath, then pushed myself off the radiator. I wasn’t sure what I’d seen just now. I needed some time alone to process it. “I’ve got what I need.”

  I let Jenkins usher me out of the room, then returned to my Jeep without complaint. As I sat in the driver’s seat, leaning my head against the headrest, one thing became certain to me: whoever had tried to wipe that room clean hadn’t wanted me to see the man in the trench coat.

  But now that I’d seen him, I was going to figure out who he was and what he’d really done with Tom.

  CHAPTER 9

  By the time my shift was over, I was in a foul mood. My trip to the motel had given me more questions than answers, and Detective Baxter and I had been stuck dealing with whiny perps all afternoon. We’d finished off the day booking a dumb-ass teenager for driving straight into a picket fence after downing a six pack of Bud Light, something that rubbed me the wrong way on so many levels.

  I mean, DUI is bad enough. I’d seen so many families broken from drunk-driving accidents it made my stomach sick if I thought too much about the needless tragedy. But to add insult to injury, the little shit had gotten drunk on Bud-fucking-Light. Seriously. That was like getting drunk on water, and the fact that he’d gotten behind the wheel when he couldn’t even hold beer-flavored water was enough to make me want to drop-kick him all the way into the Boston Harbor.

  I need a punching bag, I thought as I left the precinct. But since one wasn’t handy, I opted to walk home. The exercise would help burn off some of this pent up energy and frustration and maybe clear my head enough so I could think.

  The brisk walk did me some good—the cold wind on my face cleared some of the simmering resentment from my head, and the beautiful sunset lightened my heart a little.

  But just as I was crossing the street, a lean, hooded figure on the opposite sidewalk caught my attention. His shoulders were hunched against the cold, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, and because the sun was almost gone, it was hard to see his face. But there was something strange about him, and when he stopped at the corner and turned to face me, I caught a flash of glowing purple eyes with vertical pupils.

  We both froze, and time seemed suspended as I tried to figure out what the hell I was looking at. Aside from the vertical pupils, the figure’s eyes were remarkably similar to mine. But before I could think any more about it, he darted around the corner.

  “Hey, wait!” I dashed after him, curiosity burning in my chest. I knew the thing I was following couldn’t be a vampire, because vampire eyes were red, but it definitely wasn’t human. Aside from the eyes, it was so fucking fast that I could barely keep it in sight as it led me on a chase through dark back alleys. I twisted around corners at breakneck speed and slipped on too-slick pavement that was still damp from this afternoon’s rainstorm.

  My breath came fast and hard as I turned another corner, then skidded to a stop as I realized I’d come upon a dead end.

  Standing at the edge of the alleyway, I aimed my weapon and peered into the darkness, trying to figure out if he was hiding in the shadows. The moon shone plenty of light from above, though, and I couldn’t see any place for him to hide.

  A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I turned to my left just in time to see the figure jump out of a shadow that was way too small for him to hide in. A pale, clawed hand knocked the gun from my grip before I could squeeze off a shot, and it clattered to the ground.

  I ducked a right hook, then made a grab for my gun, but the figure kicked me in the stomach. Breath whooshed out of me as I skidded backwards, falling on my side, and it was only th
rough sheer force of will that I got my legs under me before he could strike me again. I caught his booted foot on my way up and yanked it to me, and a vision of a cold, dark cavern with strange symbols painted on the damp walls assailed me.

  Unable to afford the distraction, I pushed it aside, then back-fisted him in the face with all my strength.

  There was a loud crack as his head snapped sideways, and the hood slid off. Not that it made much of a difference—my assailant’s skin was nearly as pitch black as his hair, and even with the light of the moon I could barely make out his features. But he did bare long, pearly-white fangs at me, and that was the last straw.

  “Fuck this,” I snarled, pulling my vampire gun from beneath my blazer. It was time to end this thing.

  But before I could fire a shot, the creature recovered and knocked the weapon from my hand. I cursed at the thing’s inhuman speed—this never would have happened with a human.

  Swings came in quick succession, and I had to eat a couple of them to avoid the more dangerous blows. I managed to turn my body into the last one, though, and my momentum threw my assailant off balance. Before he could recover, I kicked him back, lifted my gun, and buried two shots in his chest.

  For a moment, I thought I had him. The creature stumbled backward, head bowed as he clutched at the holes in his chest. But instead of turning to ash, he simply stood there for a moment, then lifted his head and gave me a feral grin.

  “Uh-oh.” If two wooden stake bullets to the heart didn’t kill this guy, then I was in big trouble.

  The creature charged me again, and I dodged, heart-pounding as I tried to figure out how to get to my other gun before he killed me. I doubted that lead bullets would be any more effective than the wooden ones, but maybe if I shot him enough times, I could slow him down.

  As the figure turned toward me, I braced myself, but before he could charge me again, a shot rang out.

  His body shuddered, and something glistened on his lips that might have been blood. He dropped to his knees, but instead of falling forward or turning to ash, he melted into a puddle of darkness that oozed away, assimilating with the rest of the shadows clinging to the walls.

  “Vampire bullets?” Detective Baxter asked.

  Shocked, I whirled around to see him standing behind me. But instead of his button-up and slacks, he was dressed in a priest’s robes, and the smoking gun in his hand was definitely not police issue.

  This definitely isn’t Detective Baxter.

  “Y-yeah,” I stammered, still a little shaken. “I’m guessing you’re Guy Baxter’s brother?”

  “Yes.” A slight smile curled his lips, and he stepped forward. As moonlight bathed his face, I realized that although he shared similarities to my new partner, his mouth was wider and he had rounder cheeks and a softer jaw. “My name is Father James Baxter. Guy and I are often confused because our voices sound so similar, in addition to the familial resemblance, but most people can tell us apart after talking to us for a minute. How do you know my brother?”

  “I’m his new partner.” I watched the man tuck his weapon back into his robes. Then glanced over my shoulder toward the spot where my assailant had just melted into the pavement. “What the hell did you use on that thing?”

  “Iron. It’s much more effective on their kind.”

  “Their kind?”

  His smile broadened, and he held out a hand to me. “Come. Let’s go find somewhere warm to talk.”

  Father James took me to the Gateway Church off Warren Street, which turned out to be only two blocks from where he’d found me. He told me he’d been heading to the convenience store to grab a sandwich when he’d heard strange noises coming from the alleyway behind the building, so he’d come out to investigate.

  “Do you usually carry a gun when you’re walking to the store, Father James?” I asked as he led me down a hall off the left of the main entrance, away from the nave.

  “At night I do,” he admitted as we walked past a series of doors that I imagined led to offices and meeting rooms. “Dangerous things walk these streets when the sun goes down, like the shade that attacked you in the alley.”

  “Shade?” I furrowed my brow as I remembered the way the creature had leapt from a shadow that had been too small to hold him, and then melted into a shadow after Father James had shot him. “I guess that’s an appropriate name.”

  “Indeed.” Father James stopped in front of a door with his name on it, then pulled a key ring from his belt. “They are creatures of shadow, so they cannot truly be killed. But if you pierce them with iron, they are forced to rejoin the darkness, and it takes them a long time to regain a more corporeal form.”

  “It sounds like you know a lot about them,” I said as he led me into his office and flipped on the light.

  It was a pleasant space, with honey-wood furniture and a large cross that hung from the powder blue accent wall on my left. The wall to my right was covered floor-to-ceiling with book-laden shelves, and the one behind his desk boasted commendations and certificates from the town and various charity organizations. The certificates were framed in gold and neatly organized around a window that looked out onto a small garden.

  “When one’s job is to shepherd the Lord’s flock, it is difficult not to run across His enemies.” Father James sat, gesturing for me to do the same. “Thankfully, I’ve learned that the fae are highly susceptible to iron, so I had a gunsmith specially craft these bullets for me.” He pulled a small wooden box from one of his drawers, then pushed it across the table to me. “Take these. You’ll need them.”

  I popped open the box to find twenty bullets neatly nestled into grooves carved into the wood. “Oh no,” I said, pushing it back toward him. “I couldn’t.”

  He pressed his hand gently over mine. “I insist. I have plenty more, and I suspect you’re going to need them more than I do.”

  The ring on his third finger brushed against my skin, and I got a flash.

  Crunching metal. Blood. Skidding wheels. A scream.

  A car accident, I thought as it faded away, looking at him with a new light. One that had almost killed him.

  “All right,” I said, slowly pulling the box back toward me. “I’ll take them. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Father James smiled. “I can’t count on being around the corner the next time you run into a fae, so I’ll feel better knowing you have those.”

  Nodding, I tucked the box into one of my inner jacket pockets, then settled back in my chair. The large cross hanging from the wall caught my eye again, and my fingers fluttered to the one hanging from my neck. Being in the church was a comfort, even if I wasn’t in the nave itself, because Tom had been very religious. I’d gone to church with him every Sunday, so I couldn’t help but feel his presence in this place and wonder if he was watching down on me.

  “Did you know a Tom Garrison?” I wondered aloud.

  Father James’s eyebrows shot up. “Why, yes. He was a special member of my flock,” he added, his eyes sparkling with fond memories. “Did you know him?”

  “He was my fiancé,” I told him around the lump that swelled in my throat.

  His eyes widened. “Oh, you’re Brooke Chandler!”

  I nodded, just now realizing I’d been too shaken up to introduce myself sooner.

  “Tom told me a lot of good things about you when he came back to Salem to help the local police with that old case.” His expression grew somber. “I was very sorry to hear that he passed in such a terrible manner.”

  “Me too.” I hesitated, wondering if I should mention what I’d found. But hell, he already knew about this hokey shit, didn’t he? “I went to the motel where it happened and asked if I could check out the room, but the clerk told me there had never been any fire and he couldn’t remember Tom.”

  Father James sat up straight in his seat, his dark eyebrows pulling together in a troubled frown. “That’s not right,” he protested. “Tom’s death was all over the local news.”

 
; “Right?” I slapped the top of his desk, then winced as an elephant-shaped paperweight trembled. “Sorry. But it didn’t make any sense, and when I had the clerk open up the room, it was pristine. Like nothing had ever happened.” I searched his troubled gaze. “Do you think this could be something…supernatural?”

  “It’s quite possible,” Father James conceded. “A fae could have done it, or perhaps even a vengeful spirit. I’ve banished my fair share of wraiths from the homes of desperate parishioners during my time here.”

  “Banished wraiths?” I leaned in, eager to know more. This was the first person with knowledge of the supernatural I’d run into who was actually willing to talk to me, and I was going to soak up every bit of knowledge I could. “How do you do that?”

  “Banishing evil spirits takes a level of skill that cannot be taught in a single conversation,” Father James said lightly. “However, if you should run across one, a little prayer and faith will go a long way. Simply focus all your willpower and shout “Capsicum annuum!” as loudly as you can. You have to really mean it, but if you do it right, you should render the wraith immobile. If you need help after that, give me a call, and I’ll come banish it permanently.”

  “Thanks. That’s really good to know.” I hesitated. “Does Guy know about this stuff? He never mentioned anything.”

  Faather James shook his head. “I think it’s best we not mention this to my brother. Not everyone can see these things the way you and I do, and I’ve learned the hard way that you can bring more trouble to your door than is worth it by forcing people to see when they’re not ready to.”

  I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I agreed. Was that what Oscar thought? That I hadn’t been ready to know the truth? Look where that kind of thinking had landed me.

  I glanced at my watch, then rose. “I should get going. Thank you for saving me, and for taking the time to answer my questions.” I held out a hand. “Maybe we’ll cross paths again.”