Dead of Night: The Nephalem Files (Book 3)

by Douglas Wayne

  I passed up the cemetery and drove about a mile down before pulling off in front of a pair of commercial buildings on the north side of the road. If I was going to get inside that cemetery, I needed a disguise. Something the cops wouldn't question if I were to drive inside. I sat in the parking lot for a few minutes when I noticed the symbol in the center of the steering wheel. A smile reached my lips at the thought. Going in there the way I looked was just asking to be kicked out and possibly arrested, not my idea of fun. But if I looked older.

  A lot older.

  The cops probably wouldn't even bat an eye at me as they waved me past.

  I took in a deep breath and filled my body with essence, the force that allows me to power my magic. Essence is the mystical glue that holds life together, meaning that every living object has it to some degree. Drawing in essence allows me to call a certain amount of that life force into my body to be used later. In the same way that a sponge loses water over time, the human body can't hold its supply of essence forever, so it is impossible to maintain a full reserve for long periods of time without a concentrated effort. Instead, it is best to call upon it just before you need it.

  As the essence filled my body, I felt the power coursing through my veins as the power enhanced my senses. Part of the reason you don't want to maintain your reserves long term is because the feeling is addictive. Imagine walking around, feeling like you just rode the biggest, meanest, roller coaster you could think of. The longer you hold the power in, the more addictive that power is. Using the power is just a bit worse though the body has a failsafe in place to keep you from using too much. I haven't tripped that failsafe in some time now and never planned on hitting it again. The last time it happened to me, I woke up in Omaha, Nebraska after taking down the technomancer, Bradley Tucker. I went down about a week before that, as well, saving an old man, his wife, and a few officers from the Boulder Colorado police department from Bradley's wrath.

  To be fair, I came close in Cinci. If it wasn't for the building collapsing on my head, I was fully willing to burn myself out as long as I took down Alfred, an ancient vampire, with me. Burnout is the state where you fry your mind's ability to filter essence ever again. I've been told the feeling is similar to how a heroin junkie feels if he is pulled from the drug cold turkey and forced to detox on his own. The addiction is still there in the background, begging for sustenance, but the mind is unable to provide the feeling anymore.

  Looking in the mirror, I cast a veil on myself, changing my looks. My hair changed to silver and grew out long enough that the ends just touched my shoulders. My eyebrows bushed out and changed color as well. All around my face, wrinkles set in, with the highest concentration being on the sides of my eyes and mouth, as well as all along my forehead.

  I glanced down to my hands. They had already started to morph, looking like I had spent too much time in a hot tub. I kept my spell from changing my clothes, figuring my dark colored slacks and white polo shirt were more than adequate for what I needed to do.

  Once the spell was complete on me, I focused my efforts on my walking staff, making it look more like a cane. I doubted that I would need it inside, but I didn't want to be caught unprepared in any case.

  I pulled back on the road and went back to the cemetery, getting in line with the other cars looking to get in. The line was short, maybe there or four cars were ahead of me, and it was moving fast. Before I knew it, two officers motioned me to stop the car and roll down the windows. I followed their commands and stuck my head out the window to speak.

  "I saw the news. I assume you are going to find the people responsible soon enough," I said, trying to maintain a frail sounding voice as I spoke.

  "Doing our best sir," he said, peering inside of my car. He was a younger man, probably in his mid to late twenties

  I glanced over at the passenger side of the car and saw the other officer doing the same thing. What they were looking for, I couldn't tell. I just assumed they were looking for cameras of people trying to hide in the backseat.

  They held me here longer than the others, which started making me nervous. After a minute I half expected them to have me open the trunk, but the officer on my side of the car finally smiled and said, "You're free to pass."

  I avoided wiping the sweat from my brow and drove the car inside.

  - 8 -

  After getting through the police line, I drove about a quarter of the way through the cemetery and pulled over to the side of the road. Grabbing my staff that was disguised as a cane and my phone, I hobbled out of the car and started walking around.

  Just to the north, I heard a lot of commotion, which was usually rare in a cemetery, so I figured that was as good a place as any to start. Like every other cemetery around here, the grass was well manicured and the tombstones all clear and looked near polished. There were flowers on nearly half of the grave markers, left in little holders on either side of the tombstones. Most of them were a blended wildflower bouquet, likely purchased at a local grocery store as part of the daily bargain.

  Given the amount of cars I saw waiting in line when I passed the first time, and the cars I had to wait behind to get in, the place wasn't nearly as packed as I expected it to be. I saw two people kneeling next to a gravestone off to my right, another person walking towards the commotion up ahead, and a maintenance worker driving down the road on his riding lawn mower. If anything was happening here, these people didn't seem to care as they carried on with their normal life.

  Cautiously, I made my way towards the noise, sticking mainly to the paved roadway as to not disturb the ground. Just around a bend in the road, the road was lined with so many cars on both sides, it would be difficult to drive between them, even with it being one way traffic. Most of the vehicles here were emergency vehicles. In the rear there were four different police cruisers, each with their lights off. There was no sign of the cops, but I expected I would see them up ahead. The rest of the cars were primarily civilian vehicles though I suspected a few of them also belonged to the police force.

  I walked alongside the cars, staying in the grass in case someone decided to try to drive between the narrow passage between the cars. I made it about halfway through the line of vehicles when I saw the sight I was looking for.

  Just like the mausoleum in Pine Ridge Cemetery, there was another one fully unearthed, set at a weird angle against a mound of freshly dug soil. The front door was open, allowing the smooth metal door to rest against the ground. Around the front, a detective crawled around on his hands and knees, searching for clues I guessed. Close to the mausoleum, many of the nearby gravestones were knocked over or even heavily damaged by whatever had created this mess.

  I looked around and saw every police officer on the scene was busy doing something. Taking advantage of their distraction, I continued to hobble closer, wanting to get a better look. I made it about fifty yards from the scene when my movement drew the attention of a man standing next to a trio of officers just south of the unearthed tomb. He mouthed some words I couldn't make out and the three police officers turned around and scoped me out.

  I started to wonder if my disguise was failing, but a quick glance at my heavily wrinkled hands told me it should still be up.

  The officer on the right, and older man likely in his forties was sporting a thick black mustache and a head of hair that struggled to stay bunched under his black peaked cap. He tucked a pen in his left front pocket and took a step towards me, but the man in the center, wearing a black suit and pants said something. The officer stopped, turned around, and nodded before turning around to help the other two while the man in the suit walked towards me.

  "May I help you?" the man asked as he got close. The man was in his fifties, judging from his salt and pepper hair and the established crow's feet on the side of his eyes. He had short brown hair and a clean, almost polished looking face.

  "I heard the commotion from the other side of the cemetery. I just wanted to see what was going on," I said, usi
ng the same frail sounding voice from earlier.

  "Everything is fine," the man said, forcing a smile. "A few vandals came in overnight and destroyed part of the cemetery. The police are looking things over now, but we hope to be hard at work making the repairs by nightfall."

  "Who would do something like that?" I asked.

  The man shook his head. "Nothing that could work that fast. Everything was fine before I left last night. We have had vandals come in and destroy gravestones in the past, but nothing like this."

  I took a few steps closer, hoping to get a better look. Just like the other cemetery, the logical explanation was that someone snuck in construction equipment in overnight and dug up the tomb.

  I wanted to get closer, to take a better look, but the man responded with moving in front of me as I took another step. "For your safety, I have to ask you to stay away from the site. At least until we get it cleaned up."

  "But what about my Marsha?" I threw out a name, hoping it was on one of the plots up ahead. It was a stretch, but I was hoping he wouldn't know the names of every person that had been buried here over the years.

  "Is she buried up ahead?" He glanced over his shoulders, at the cops still looking around.

  I nodded. "Has been for nearly three years now. I try to visit her at least once a month."

  "I see," he said, looking at me with his head slightly tilted, giving me the impression I stepped over the line or said something wrong. Instead of chastising me like I expected, he bowed his head slightly. "I'm sorry. If her grave was one of those disturbed, we will do our best to right what has happened."

  "You can't hardly be blamed for this. It's not like you asked for this to happen." I reached into my wallet and pulled out a business card and handed it to him. "I know this fella is in town already, helping the people at Pine Ridge find out who destroyed their cemetery. Perhaps you should give him a call. The two cases may be related."

  They had to be related. I was willing to risk my professional credibility on it. Not that I had much to risk.

  He took the card and looked it over, then turned his head back to me. "Paranormal investigator? Why would we need a paranormal investigator for this?"

  I shrugged. "How many things do you know that can cause this type of damage overnight?"

  He pursed his lips together and took a deep breath in through his nose. I could tell from his look he wasn't buying it.

  Tension filled the air while he stood there, not saying a word. When his face reddened, I figured this was as good time as any to step away. "Since you won't be letting me see my Marsha, I guess I'll be heading back home." I turned around and left, making sure to hobble away. He was already suspicious enough without me blowing my cover any further.

  I made my way past the rows of cars and back around the curve where I had left the Cadillac. My instincts were telling me to hurry. That I needed to run back to the car and get out here before anything else went wrong. But the closer I got to the car, the more people I saw coming in. Most of them were here to visit loved ones, like I had claimed to be here for, but I knew a few of them would be cops in civilian clothes, hoping to catch someone returning to the scene of the crime for one reason or another.

  I finally made it back to the car when I heard someone yelling after me. I turned around and saw the man who I had just talked to near the unearthed mausoleum. He was holding a walkie talkie in one hand and my business card in the other.

  As he approached, I hoped he'd changed his mind and wanted to ask me a few more questions about the incident. Instead, he reached out and pointed at me. The three police officers that were huddled around him earlier ran in, thankfully without their weapons drawn.

  I jumped in the car, drew in a bit of essence and enhanced the body of the Cadillac in case they decided to shoot after all. Before they could get to the street, I put the car in drive and sped off down the paved road.

  Right at the narrow path of cars just ahead.

  I needed another way out. Think quickly, Ray. They aren't going to just let you drive out of here nice and easy. I noticed the rear police car backing up then moving forward to block my path out.

  I let my veil fade to focus on my energy on my driving, and the spell enhancing the body of the car, knowing I might be facing a hailstorm of bullets in just a few moments.

  Right before I reached the now blocked section of road, I swerved into the grass, narrowly avoiding a concrete bench I'm sure doubled over as a grave as I passed the barricade. More officers moved in, some in uniform, but many that weren't, taking cover behind the row of cars. The cops in the lead pulled out their pistols and took aim at the car. I didn't turn my head to look at the ones I was passing, but I knew they were doing the same thing.

  I reached the front car when gunfire erupted, filling the air with a loud popping sound that the car, thankfully muted to the point it sounded more like firecrackers than anything. The first wave of bullets struck the car, deflecting the bullets into the air as they struck the side of the Caddy. The shots lasted just a few moments before I had broken through the blockade and was back on the street.

  As the roadway curved around to my right, I got a view of the mausoleum from the other side. There was a mount of dirt on the ground nearly five foot tall on this side, nearly covering the view of the entranceway. There were dozens of people moving around, most taking cover from the gunfire while others were running in the grass towards their cars or the exit. My hope was that the path was clear enough for me to get out before the inevitable congestion formed as people tried to escape.

  I made it around the last turn and had a clear view of the front gate. I slowed down enough to not look suspicious to the officers who were standing out front. My gesture was for nothing, however, as I noticed the patrol car blocking the gate as I closed in. I looked to my right, looking for another escape route when I noticed two more squad cars driving towards the gate from another roadway. A quick glance in my rear view mirror told me I had another pair directly behind me.

  I stopped the car in front of the gate and turned off the ignition. My mind raced as the police officers all swarmed the vehicle, guns in hand. I waited in the car with my hands firmly on the steering wheel as they moved closer.

  The driver's side door opened sharply followed by the yells of the officer that had opened it. Another officer moved in, aiming his gun just over the door right at my head.

  "Out of the car!" I heard around the same time I felt my arm being yanked off the steering wheel. There wasn't any time to steady myself or brace for the fall, so I just closed my eyes and waited for my face to eat the pavement, which it did in spectacular fashion, nearly breaking my nose.

  I felt one of them place a knee in the small of my back followed by a hand grabbing my wrist and yanking it back, the other wrist following suit shortly after.

  Once I was secured in the cuffs, the officer yanked me off the ground, failing for the third time in a few moments to rip my arm out of its socket. He threw me back into the car, pointed at me, and barked, "looks like you have some explaining to do."

  - 9 -

  "What brings you to the Cedar Valley Cemetery," he pulled my ID out of my wallet which he had just pulled out of my pants pocket, "Raymond?" The officer was wearing the same midnight blue suits that the other officers were wearing. Unlike the others, he was not wearing his hat, instead letting the sun shine down on his short blond hair. He was in relatively good shape as the only evidence contrary was the beginnings of a beer gut. His face, however, told the tale of a guy who had fought his entire life against acne as his face was pocked up, leaving few places untouched.

  "I'm here to visit my grandfather's grave," I said, trying to rub my bleeding nose against my shirt. "Didn't know that was a crime."

  He snorted. "The only grave you were visiting was the one you dug out of the ground last night. Didn't think you'd get caught like this, did you?"

  "I wasn't here last night," I countered. "I was in my hotel room sleeping."


  "Any proof?"

  "Unless the hotel has security cameras in my room, no. But my key to my room is in my wallet."

  He opened my wallet again and pulled out the card. "At least you were smart enough to prepare your story in advance. Tell me, Raymond. Why were you at the Pine Ridge Cemetery just yesterday? Seems odd you would be at two of these scenes in as many days."

  "Nicholas Bates, the owner of Pine Ridge, called me in to investigate his mess. I was there yesterday taking pictures and looking for any evidence as to what dug it out of the ground. This morning, I woke up and saw the news and figured there might be fresher clues here." Not to mention the potential of an easy paycheck. I was already looking into one. Whatever caused it, probably caused this one as well. Even the police had to be thinking the same thing.

  "Sounds like quite the story," he said, grinning. "Here's what's going to happen. We are going to take you into the precinct and book you under suspicion of felony vandalism. If your story checks out, you will be out of there in time to see yourself on the evening news from the comfort of your hotel room. If not... you may want to have someone record it for you." He laughed as he grabbed my arm, leading me forcefully to his squad car, which sat just inside the entrance. As I took my seat, I noticed a tow truck pulling in the cemetery, probably to grab the Cadillac. I knew Nicholas wasn't going to be happy with me about that, but I figured he would understand the moment he saw the news.

  Shoot, if he wasn't thinking the two were related by now, he wasn't as bright as he wanted everyone to believe.

  The officer shut the door and I rested my head against it, figuring I could get a nap in between here and the precinct. I figured wrong as the officer seemingly went out of his way to hit every pothole between the cemetery and our destination. Throwing in a few curb hops for good measure.