Marty Phillips (Book 1): Life Slowly Faded

by Double, Kieran

  “I just don’t think you need to hear. But here goes anyway. He didn’t say much. Boasted mostly. And said he was coming back. He took my Glock, though.”

  “He took your service weapon? Isn’t that supposed to be some big thing with you police officers? I remember Detective Ryan lost his weapon in Castle. They made a big deal about it.” Susie again sounded very like an adult, not an eleven-year-old girl.

  “I didn’t take you for TV geek.”

  Susie shrugged again. “My parents were never around. We had a few hundred channels. I’m not the Supernatural freak. I saw the DVDs. In this day and age, people only buy DVDs if it’s something important. Or The X-files. Not to mention True Blood, Smallville, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Dude, what’s with all the vampires? Very girly.”

  “I have a wife, you know.”

  “She’s dead, Marty. It’s about time you realize that.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve tried pretending she’s still alive for the past two years. Doesn’t make it any easier to live with the reality.”

  “My scrape with your father helped, though. He’ll come for you, but only if he gets me too. Which means I won’t have to go looking for him. He’ll just come to me.”

  “And then you’ll put a bullet in the bastard’s head?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Sounds brilliant, Marlowe,” said Susie, grinning happily.

  11

  Wendigo

  When a child fell into her power, she killed it, cooked and ate it, and that was a feast day with her.

  (Hansel and Gretel)

  “A Wendigo? So other legends are true too?” I said, puzzled. We were a few miles south of Seattle, heading to the Chehalis Indian Reservation.

  “Yup, you think we’re the only hunters?” Ashley was in the passenger seat next to me.

  “Is it really that surprising, Marty?” Susie was leaning forward from the back. We’d only taken her because I’d have had to leave her alone in the apartment. Ashley was still annoyed with me.

  “I suppose not.”

  “Just remember that this isn’t a TV show. You aren’t one of the Winchester brothers or Mr. Burkhardt. Listen to your sister.” As usual, she sounded more like an adult than a child.

  Ashley looked away, towards the right. “My brother doesn’t need advice from the likes of you, Wolffrau.”

  We sat in silence for a while, as the Jag motored closer to our destination. Eventually, I asked a question. I’d always been full of questions. That’s why I had become a detective in the first place. And now, after this revelation, I had more than ever. “What’s the difference between a Wolffrau and a Wolfmann, anyway?”

  My question was directed at Ashley, but it was Susie who answered. “Wolffrau means wolf woman. Wolfmann just means wolf person.”

  “Right,” I said, as the E-Type pulled into the Lucky Eagle Casino and Hotel.

  After we checked in, Susie took out bags to the room. Ashley held me back to have a chat about her. We stood in the corridor. “What the hell are you doing? Fostering a bloody Wolfmann.”

  “She’s just a kid, Ashley.”

  “No, she’s one of them. A Wolffrau. That kid she bit was only the beginning. It will just continue.”

  “Only if she lets it. Don’t you get it? The more you drive them away from society, the worse they become. You will only make monsters.” Ashley’s attitude for all this frustrated me to hell. That was the problem when you were both stupidly stubborn.

  “It won’t work, Marlowe. She’ll turn on you. You’ll go to sleep one night, and never wake up!” Ashley stalked away angrily.

  Ashley had been tipped off by one of the Chehalis Tribal police officers. He wasn’t exactly experienced in this sort of thing, but his grandfather was an expert on native mythology, and, because he was too old to do anything, he’d called Ashley. People had been disappearing at an alarming rate on the Reservation. A few of the bodies had been found. Parts were missing each time. So it was a Wendigo, a cannibalistic spirit.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To visit the deputy who called us in,” Ashley answered. She started giving me directions to the police station.

  But then Susie told me to turn left, instead of right as Ashley was telling me. She said matter-of-factly, “It’s over here.”

  “How d’you know that?” Ashley demanded.

  “Duh, Wolffrau here. Good sense of smell,” explained Susie, like she had before. “The Wendigo stinks like hell. Like rotting bodies. I could catch its scent from miles away, and I’m not even that strong yet.”

  I turned to Ashley. “See, she’s coming in handy already.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “So how do we kill it? Fire?” I said. We were approaching the house where Susie said the Wendigo was.

  “God no. How many times? This isn’t Supernatural. You cut their heads off. Like vampires in Supernatural. I’m going to have explain everything using TV references, aren’t I?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Here.” Ashley took out two foot long machetes. She handed me one.

  “What about Susie?”

  “She’s a Wolffrau”

  “She’s a child. You can’t leave her undefended. We shouldn’t have brought her in the first place. We both agree on that. Don’t make it worse.”

  “Fine. Just don’t mess up,” Ashley muttered angrily. She handed Susie a third machete from a sheath inside her jeans.

  “I won’t, Phillips. You’ll have more trouble with the rookie.” Susie smiled as she spoke.

  “Really? Rookie… You’re eleven years old.”

  “What? So what if I’m a third of your age. I know what I’m up against, you don’t. And anyway, as Phillips keeps pointing out, I’m a Wolffrau. Age doesn’t really matter to us.”

  No one spoke as we entered the house. Ashley picked the lock silently. I had a little giggle to myself. She’d always been the better-behaved child. Now she was the one breaking and entering. When we got inside, Susie pointed up the stairs. Ashley and I followed her lead, creeping slowly up the stairs. Then it attacked.

  Ashley disappeared upwards. I shouted after her, running up onto the landing. My sister was lying there, covered in blood. The image of Annie’s mangled dead body filled my mind. “Ashley! Are you going to be alright?”

  “I’ll be fine. Just a few stitches. Now kill it” she demanded. I hesitated. Too long. It grabbed me, claws ripping open a gash on my shoulder.

  What exactly it looked like, I’m not sure even now. Its skin was grey and tough, stretched thin over its bones, its eyes black. The Wendigo’s ears were pointed like an Alsatians. Blood dripped from the creature’s long, sharp, fangs. Even I could smell it now. The stench of death and decay was overwhelming. I’d lost my machete. I was giving up.

  Then I heard a canine growl. Susie tore the Wendigo off me. I struggled upwards. Later, I realized that I was bleeding profusely, but in the heat of the moment, adrenaline pumping, I didn’t notice at the time. The machete found its way to my right hand. I looked up. Susie had the Wendigo against the wall, jaws clamped around its skinny neck.

  “Out of the way, Susie!” I shouted.

  Susie released the creature and I swung my machete. The Wendigo’s head landed on the floor. Then the body seemed to disintegrate, leaving only a hollow shell of leather-like skin. The head shriveled and shrunk.

  I picked up Ashley gingerly. “Did any of us touch anything?”

  Susie shook her head. She’d gone back to normal now, but there was still black blood dripping from her little chin.

  “We’ll call 911 from a phone box when we get back to the car. Bring that thing’s… remains. I’m not sure what the cops would think of that.”

  “Are you sure you’re alright, Ashley?” I asked anxiously.

  “I’m fine, Marty. Stop worrying. It’s just a scratch.” She was sewing up the wounds herself. Apparently, she was well practiced at it
. The Wendigo had made three deep scratches on her shoulder.

  I left it. She was the most stubborn person I knew. “How’s a Wendigo created anyway? Cannibalism or something?”

  “That’s the general idea. Normally, they start eating human flesh because they’re starving. You know the Donner Party?” said Ashley, wincing slightly as she put the needle back in.

  “Yeah. Californian pioneers. Started eating each other when they got stuck up a mountain, I think.”

  “You always were a history buff.” Ashley smiled at me in that older-sibling kind-of-way.

  I shrugged. “You’ve got your politics, I’ve got TV and books.”

  “My politics?”

  “Staunch democrat and all that. Doesn’t really seem to suit being a Rotkäppchen, especially with your opinion of Wolfvolk.”

  She sighed at me. “It’s an occupational hazard, Marty. A reality. It’s not that I don’t think they can reform. Susie’s uncle has shown that. But you can never really be sure if they are reformed. They are dangerous. No matter whether they mean to be or not. Just like addicts. I just don’t want you getting close to Susie in case she loses control.”

  “I’m over here, you know, Phillips.” Susie was listening to her iPod. Ashley must have thought she couldn’t hear us. Big mistake. Susie’s hearing was nearly supernatural.

  Ashley scowled. “I know. It’s not personal. I just… however good your intentions are, you could lose control, become what you fear most.”

  Susie didn’t look angry, just frustrated. “You don’t trust me. Fair enough. But Marty’s a full grown man, a former police officer and a Huntsman to boot. Don’t you think he can make his own decisions? More to the point, that he might be able to deal with the situations caused by the decisions? He might be your little brother, but that will never stop him being his own man. Trying to change that is foolish, and cruel.”

  Ashley was silent for some time. “Maybe you’re right,” but she didn’t say anymore.

  12

  Meeting

  ‘Turn back, turn back, young maiden fair,

  Linger not in this murders’ lair’

  (The Robber Bridegroom)

  So this was them. The Huntsmen. They were a mixed bunch, I had to admit. My cousin John, as always, looked positively dapper. He was a few years older than me. Uncle Teddy was smiling as usual. It was the kind of smile that made you think he could have been smiling at anything or nothing at all. But it didn’t matter; he was smiling. Ashley was still in her Assistant City Prosecutor’s ‘outfit’, a woman’s suit. Then was the Loner, a gruff old bearded man with a hunting rifle by his side. And, of course, there was me, in a pair of old jeans, a worn polo shirt and a faded bomber jacket.

  We had dinner first. Roast beef, this time. It felt like an old family dinner on a Sunday. My grandfather had insisted that we have a family dinner every Sunday evening. He was dead, what, six years – heart attack – and needless to say, his descendants had let the old tradition slip. My mother was dead four years, a car crash. My father, considered an honorary Bergman with no family of his own, had died of cancer three years ago. Come to think of it, my family hadn’t been doing well the last few years.

  I had to ask Ashley about that. She’d probably just give me a cryptic answer. I was beginning to realize the rest of my life would probably be like this.

  “So while we’re all gathered here, Ashley, did you notice that people seem to be dropping like flies around us? Granddad, Mom, Dad, Annie. All dodgy deaths, heart attack, car crash, spontaneous cancer everywhere, and well… you know… Is that ‘the hunted are hunting the hunters’ thing you were talking about?”

  “Marty…” Ashley pushed away her plate. Dinner was over. The meeting had begun

  “I want that truth, for once. You’ve spent the last week lying through your teeth,” I said. “So just do us all a favor, and tell me the truth.”

  “Yes. They're all connected, to us and to each other. Granddad was scared to death by an Alptraume. Mom was getting chased by an out-of-state pack of Wolfvolk. Dad was cursed by a witch. And we all know what got Annie,” answered Ashley. She was busy collecting the plates and cutlery, scrapping the remaining food onto the top plate. I got up to help her, well aware that she had cooked the meal already. She didn’t need more work.

  “Any idea who’s orchestrating the whole thing?”

  “Marty…”

  “Ashley… I’ve only known about this what? Six days. You’ve been lying to me for seventeen years. Hell, up until now, I thought you were a boring Assistant Prosecutor, and this week, the week after Halloween and all, that you’re like the fucking Ku Klux Klan. The least I deserve is to know what we’re up against. What are we up against?”

  “The Nobles. They’ve got people everywhere. And don’t compare me to the KKK. I’m nothing like them. Wolfvolk… even well-meaning ones – and I’m not denying that they exist – are dangerous, Marty. That’s just it. It’s not their fault, but it’s our job to make sure that the ones who aren’t well-meaning don’t harm anyone. You getting close to one of them… it makes me nervous, alright. You’re my little brother, and you’re in way over your head.”

  “So I hear we’ve got a stray Noble on our hands,” said the Loner. His voice was harsh as gravel.

  “We do. A spy,” answered Ashley. “She claims that she’s in hiding from her grandfather.”

  “Which she might be,” I said

  “Really, Marty? You don’t know shit about this world.”

  “And you know too much. You’re getting paranoid. This isn’t personal. This is business. Take it too personal, and you’ll make mistakes.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I was a police officer. As far as I can see, we’re the police officers of the Verstecktvolk world. Then we should approach every problem we an objective investigation, not paranoid conclusions.”

  “Fine. Where has your ‘objective investigation’ taken you?”

  “I’ve got Trix’s real name. I asked nicely. And so far, everything checks out. She was twelve when she moved here with her mother from Switzerland, in 1996. Her mother worked as a cleaning lady for four years, but then started checking social welfare payments. Trix dropped out of school around the same time. Her mother died of a heroin overdose in 2008.”

  “And in Switzerland, any evidence of someone with her identity?” asked John.

  “No.”

  “There you go. She’s lying,” said Ashley.

  “Not necessarily, Ashley. If you were running from a Noble, would you really keep the same name? That’d be stupidity. Of course, that doesn’t rule out your theory, but it doesn’t back it up any more than Marty’s,” answered Teddy. He’d always been smarter than he looked. I reckoned it was deliberate. The art of war is deception.

  “And what is yours exactly, Marty?” asked John. He’d always been more business-like than his father. It was as if he never shut down the CEO part of him. He was different than he had been a youth.

  “I dunno. That she might actually be telling the truth? Have you considered that?”

  “I would, Marty. I really would, but then why did she befriend a Huntsman?” John continued. “Any Noble in their right mind would kill you, or run a mile. Not stick around to buy you drinks.”

  “Thank you!” Ashley exclaimed indignantly “Someone with some sense. Marty, the whole thing is shady. Can’t you see that?”

  “Yes, I can. But the whole thing is shady because we don’t know what is going on. I want to find out. I will follow the evidence, not just my gut. Which what you’re doing. And besides, if she did give me the Sight thing, isn’t that a good thing? An extra member of the team, a former cop. Are you complaining about that?”

  “No, Marty. It’s just that… I don’t know” said Ashley. She was trying to protect me, but she didn’t even know what she was protecting me from. “Anyway, how did you meet her in the first place?”

  “She bought me a drink
the day of Annie’s funeral. Then tried to get a bit of business out of me. I told her that it was out of the question. She kept turning up and, after a while, she started referring cases to me, in return for a few hundred dollars, of course. That’s it.”

  Susie came back in the room. She’d finished her dinner quickly and had gone out with Buster into the garden before the conversation had properly started.

  “Susie?” I said.

  “What, I interrupting your Huntsmen business? Well, as it happens, I have some information you might like, about Princess Trix the prostitute,” said Susie. She said down and began to rub Buster. I took out my phone and set the audio recorder going, my training kicking again. Note-taking was an occupational hazard as a cop or a PI.

  “Remember those pages on Trix you took from my father’s book?”

  “What pages?”

  Susie laughed. “Don’t play dumb. You do that well enough already. The pages. They were missing from my father’s book when you showed them to me? What did you do with them?”

  “I burnt them” Finally, the night before, I had done what I should have done immediately after tearing out the page from Merkel’s book.

  “Good. You’ve caused her enough trouble already.” I was really beginning to get annoyed with Susie. It was like dealing with a second version of my sister. “And to answer your question, Mr. Bergman, Trix befriended Marty because I told her to.”

  “Your parents knew what she was?” said Ashley.

  “Of course they did. They loved humiliating her. Mind you, Dad loves humiliating everyone. I’m not sure if Trix actually gave you the Sight. I mean, I told her to, but she said it wasn’t fair. It mightn’t even have been deliberate. Even being in her presence should reveal things to people, especially blind Huntsmen. So that was probably it. She just rejuvenated something that was hibernating.”

  “And you told her to do this why?” I asked.

  “To get away from my parents, and to gain your trust. I’ve nearly accomplished that. I mean, I didn’t want Mom to die. That went wrong. She was supposed to kill him. She could have, if you weren’t so bloody stubborn, and just gone back…”