Blood Work

by L.J. Hayward

  Chapter 31

  Erin pulled up beside the gate to the Rollins residence. It was a low set brick house sitting back from the road on several acres in Logan Reserve. A thick screen of tall trees separated the house from the road. There were two houses across the road, but otherwise, the area was still bush land. The clock on the dash read 21:13. Courey had taken several hours to get back to her with the street address for the IP address Ivan had found. Then it had taken her another hour to reach the place. The full moon had swayed through the eastern quarter of the sky while she drove, drifting behind a fringe of clouds.

  Behind the screening trees, the property was circled with a standard height chain link fence, but it had been extended up with hastily applied chicken wire. There were rows of barbed wire along the front. Someone didn’t want uninvited visitors, or escapees.

  Erin checked the magazine on her Glock and then slipped it into her shoulder rig, not bothering to secure it in place. Getting out of the car, she studied the house. Lights shone through several of the windows and the flickering blue light of a TV highlighted one end of the house. There was an old hatchback in the driveway, something a kid with a fresh licence might drive. The car sat in deep shadows, all the lights on at the other end of the house.

  It was too quiet. A breeze rustled the trees and the faint murmuring of a TV came from across the road. There was no traffic. It was chilly and she was thankful for the jacket she wore to conceal her weapon, though she resisted the urge to wrap it tight. There was no point in carrying the gun if she couldn’t get to it as quickly as possible.

  Thanks to the extensions to the fence, the gate was hard to open. A hole just big enough for a fist to pass through had been cut into the wire. Erin gingerly put her hand through and unlatched the gate. Once released, the whole structure leaned precariously outward and Erin stepped back to keep the barbed wire from snagging in her hair. She had to grip the inside edge of the fence and lift it a couple of inches off the ground to swing it open enough for her to squeeze through.

  Erin walked up the driveway at a slow, deliberate pace. All noise from the houses across the road was muffled by the trees, leaving her in even deeper quiet. Halfway to the house, she drew her gun. It hadn’t been a conscious choice, but once the moulded grip settled into her hand, she knew it had been right.

  She watched the bright windows as she approached. There was no movement inside. While she hadn’t vocally announced her presence, the gate scraping open should have done a sufficient job in the strange quiet. Someone should have come to the front door, or to a window. There was nothing.

  It wasn’t right. Something was very wrong. Stomach quivering, Erin turned side on, gun raised in both hands as she side stepped toward the house. It was time to get active.

  “Hello?” she called. “Mr Rollins? Mrs Rollins?”

  Nothing changed. If anything, the air dropped several degrees. Erin’s shoulders wanted to shiver but she suppressed the urge.

  “My name’s Erin McRea,” she continued. “I’m with a private investigation firm. I have some questions for your son.”

  More silence.

  Then a noise.

  Heart slamming against her ribs, Erin pointed the gun toward the hatchback. It had been a little noise. A soft click. Possibly a large insect landing on the metal. Possibly someone trying to be quiet as they hid behind the car.

  “Hello?” Erin took her left hand off the butt of the gun and reached into a pocket for her torch. She lifted it, rested her right hand on her left wrist and pointed gun and torch in the same direction. “Who’s there?” She clicked on the torch.

  It rose up from the shadows behind the car. Almost as big as the car itself. The thin, pathetic beam of Erin’s torch highlighted a circle of dark fur that rippled as the muscles concealed beneath it bunched and tensed. She had enough time to think ‘What the fuck?’ and then it leaped.

  The wave of almost physical cold hit her a split second before the animal. The cold swept through her, peeling away layers of strength and certainty and conviction. Erin dropped under the assault and the creature sailed over her head. A rasping, bone cracking snarl trailed it, digging into the empty spaces created by the initial freezing wave.

  It landed behind her with quiet ease, the sound of four paws touching down the only noise. On her belly, Erin tensed, getting ready to gather her arms and legs under her so she could jump up and run. Before she could, the creature moved. She knew it turned around to face her by the sudden sensation of ice trickling down her back. Then its breath, hot and metallic, rich with fresh blood, parted the hair around her neck. It snuffled at her prickled skin. She could feel its weight hanging over her. Although she looked straight ahead, trying desperately to judge the distance to the car so she could crawl under it, she knew it stood over her, paws to either side of her head and feet.

  The beast was massive. It pushed its giant muzzle into the back of her neck and its mouth was large enough to swallow her whole head in one bite.

  The gun was still in her hand. The torch was trapped under her body, cancelling out its light. She didn’t mind that it jabbed up into her stomach. There was not one inch of her that wanted to see this thing any more clearly.

  A violent roar cracked the still night, followed an instant later by a loud smash.

  The beast lifted its head, turned toward the sound. Erin rolled over, discarded the torch and pushed her Glock two handed into its chest. Her finger spasmed on the trigger of the gun, unloading round after round into the animal. It jerked and jumped, hissing a sharp edged snarl at her. As it sprang backwards, she saw its eyes. They glimmered red in the night.

  Bright light flooded Erin and the beast. She squeezed her eyes shut but kept firing. A second gun began firing and the creature let out a howling bellow. The scent of burning fur and flesh hit her through the clouds of singed gunpowder. Her gun emptied and locked open. She opened her eyes to reload. The world was washed in white light immediately around her. Beyond that, the night was opaque, but she saw the creature several yards away and retreating. Smoke rose from patches of its body. Its mouth gaped wide as it snapped at the air, fangs as long as daggers slashing the night.

  A tall figure stalked toward it, gun raised in one hand, calmly firing. Each hit resulted in a flash of flame and a new smoking wound. But then his weapon also locked open. He swore and ejected the spent magazine, a second already in his other hand. In the three seconds it took him to reload, the beast stopped its retreat, growled and advanced again.

  Erin, her hands operating separate from her non-functioning brain, had already reloaded. She fired again, covering the man while he finishing slapping home the new magazine. He backed toward Erin, holding the gun two handed this time, taking his time to aim carefully. Flames burst out on the creature’s face and it howled.

  A dark shape flew out of the night and barrelled into the giant beast. Both went sprawling and crashed into the hatchback. The little car rocked up on two wheels, teetered for a moment, then crashed down on its side. With a negligent flip, the beast was on its feet again. It shook its great head once, looked back at Erin and Hawkins, growled and then launched itself into a leap that took it right over their heads. It landed clumsily, falling into the black car idling inside the broken gates. Then it was up and vanishing into the night beyond the yard.

  “Fuck it,” Hawkins shouted.

  Mercy materialised out of the dark beside him. The small woman was panting hard, eyes blazing silver. “Chase,” she said, her voice a mirror of the hiss the beast had sounded.

  “No, it’s too strong.” Hawkins spun and glared at Erin. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Fear and confusion coalesced into a burning anger at those words. Erin clambered to her feet, highly aware of the gun still in her hand, her finger poised over the trigger guard.

  “I could ask the same of you?” she ground out.

  He shoved his free hand back through his messy hair. “My job.” And the rage subsided in him. His sh
oulders slumped a touch. “And not very well. God damn it.”

  “What was that thing?” Erin asked. Her own anger hadn’t dissipated but she kept it leashed. Screaming mindlessly at him wouldn’t get her anywhere.

  The headlights of his car picked out his teeth in bright white when he grinned, but it was a far from happy expression. “A werewolf-dog, if you can believe that.”

  Her head was shaking before she realised it. “No, I can’t really believe that.”

  “Then what do you think it was?” he asked carelessly.

  He was getting ready to make another move; looking around, studying the damage caused by the strange creature. Mercy moved as his shadow, a silent, dark clad form watching his back, her bright eyes darting this way and that constantly. Her cute little nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air.

  “Blood,” she announced, her voice soft and sultry. “Fresh. Hot.”

  Hawkins swore again. “Show me.”

  Mercy trotted away and this time Hawkins was her shadow. Erin, not about to be left behind, caught up to him.

  “Get back to your car and stay there,” he said without looking at her.

  “Bite me,” she replied.

  “That could be arranged.” There was a touch of teasing in his tone, as well as irony.

  Mercy, dressed in black leather pants and a tight fitting black top, led them around the side of the house and into the backyard. Moonlight stained red spilled across the body.

  It lay halfway between house and dog kennel. The kennel was made of brick, as solid as it could get. Yet part of the front wall was torn out, broken bricks lying in a jagged trail to the body. A thick chain lay amongst the scattered ruins, one end attached to a shattered brick, the other to a big, studded and torn collar.

  Erin didn’t want to look at the body, but she couldn’t help it. Hawkins stood by it, seemingly unable to look away. Mercy circled him and it, a predator stalking prey.

  It was a boy, a young man, maybe. Just out of high school at most. His face was still rounded with a touch of youthfulness, freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. Wide eyes stared up at the full moon, mouth agape. Below his chin, his neck and chest were reduced to so much raw meat. The ribs were cracked and spread, shoved outward by the broad muzzle of the creature that had torn his lungs and heart out. They weren’t visible anywhere. Erin didn’t want to think about the animal eating them. His stomach was shredded, skin and muscle tossed aside to reveal ruptured and steaming guts.

  Erin spun and staggered away. For the second time that day, she threw up. But this time, there was nothing to come up, just bitter bile and regret. She took a moment, bent over, hands on her knees, to calm her breathing. A warm hand touched her back.

  “You okay?”

  She shook her head.

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  With a shrug of her shoulders, she dislodged his hand and straightened. “I don’t see you puking up your guts.” But when she looked at him, he was pale and trembling a little bit.

  “Delayed reaction,” he said softly. “I’ll break later. You really should get back to your car. The creature is still out there. They’re territorial. It could very well come back.”

  Erin vented a short, caustic laugh. “Like my car is going to protect me from that. What was it?”

  “I told you. A werewolf-dog.”

  “That’s not possible. Werewolves aren’t real.”

  “You say that after seeing that thing eat two clips from your gun? After taking silver bullets and just getting angry? Your powers of denial are superhuman.”

  “And this is your job?” she demanded, waving with the Glock at the destruction in the back yard. “Following these things around and what? Killing them?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “Matt.”

  They both turned to Mercy. She stood by the body, head back, tilted to one side. Her silver eyes glittered.

  Hawkins tensed. “Is it coming back?”

  “No. Sirens.”

  “The neighbours must have called the police when the shooting began,” Erin said.

  “Great,” Hawkins hissed. “A big, bright, loud challenge to the werewolf. Mercy, looks like we’re going hunting again. Can you track it?”

  The small woman snapped a glare at him, daring him to doubt her.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “Be about your thing. But don’t tackle it without me. I think it’s too strong, even for you.”

  She snarled at him and vanished in a blur of silver. Erin stared at the spot Mercy had just been standing in. The image of long fangs behind those red lips wouldn’t leave her mind’s eye.

  “She’s a… a…”

  “Vampire, yes.” Hawkins ejected the magazine from his weapon, checked the remaining rounds and replaced it with a fresh one dug from a pocket in his cargo pants. “They’re as real as werewolves.” Taking her arm, he steered her back around the house. “Get in your car, stay there until the cops come. Tell them you found the body and that the dog that did it is on the loose. Tell them it has rabies or something.”

  “Rabies doesn’t exist in Australia,” she muttered.

  “Neither did equine influenza but I’m sure the horse racing industry would love to argue semantics with you. Just do it. Then go home and forget everything you’ve seen in the last couple of nights.”

  He had her car door open and her halfway shoved in when she came back to her senses. She shoved him away and slammed the car door before he could protest.

  “You’re not pushing me around like that. I went to a lot of trouble to get here tonight, I’m going to see this through.” She jabbed a finger in his chest. “And then I’m taking you back to my office and tying you down so you don’t miss another appointment. Understand?”

  He stared at her, lips twitching. She wasn’t sure if it was in anger or amusement.

  “Fine,” he said. “But you do exactly what I say, when I say, and nothing else. And afterward, we’ll have a nice long talk about who gets to tie who up.”

  And so she piled into the passenger seat of his low slung car, heart racing so fast it was likely to beat its way out of her chest and flop about on the floor. What was she doing? Getting into a car with a dangerous man she knew all too little and far too much about? Racing into the night with him after a creature from nightmare when she could have done as he said and stayed safe.

  If only she’d quit instead of taking this case.