Nite Fire: Flash Point

by C. L. Schneider

  “Where did you find it?”

  “In the mountains, about three hours north of here.”

  His pulse was steady. There was no duplicity in his body language, nothing but honesty and grief in his eyes. Torn on how to respond, I said, “Walk me through it.”

  Creed glanced at the door and lowered his voice. “It was being chased by something. Hunted, maybe. It was far away, up on the ridge. But I know what I saw.”

  “Go on.”

  “Scott and I were hiking. We were headed to this secluded lake Dad used to take us to when we were kids. It has all these caverns and underground pools. We used to pretend we were explorers on some lost prehistoric world. Scott was convinced we’d discover some new species or ancient city, something to make us all famous.” Creed donned a small, private smile. It didn’t last. “He was ahead of me on the trail. Scott was the better climber. But he had a shorter fuse.”

  “You were arguing?”

  “We were brothers. Of course we were arguing. But he would have waited for me at the top. He always did.” The smile from before wanted to return, but he shook it off. “Scott started yelling. I knew he was in trouble, but I don’t think it was after him. The asrai was fighting another creature. I think my brother just got in the way.”

  “What kind of creature?”

  “I’ve done some research, but I’m still not sure. It looked like some kind of…” Creed hesitated, like even he knew his next words were crazy. He said them anyway. “Some kind of reptilian devil. It had wings and a tail. It walked upright, like a man, but with scales. They gleamed in the sun, like its body was coated in silver.”

  “Sounds beautiful.”

  “It wasn’t. It was ugly.”

  Trying not to take offense, I took a slow drink of my coffee as I debated how to handle Creed’s confession. I sure as hell couldn’t confirm what he saw. Refuting it would only anger him. Laughing would damage our already tenuous relationship. I decided to stay neutral and ask another question. “The picture on your desk. That’s Scott?” He nodded. “Was it taken the same day?”

  “About three hours before he died.”

  “You saw the asrai kill him?”

  “I saw the three of them wrestling. I saw them fall. They went off the cliff on the other side. I climbed as fast as I could, but it was steep. I kept slipping. I fell and hit my head. I couldn’t have been out more than a few of minutes, but by the time I got to the top, they were gone.

  “And your brother?”

  “We never found his body. Search and rescue were called in. We looked for days. They thought maybe he survived the fall. That he was in shock and ran, or got dragged off by an animal. But there wasn’t a trail. There wasn’t anything.” He cleared his throat and met my eyes. “For a year, I went back every weekend, looking for something I missed, some trace of him. Then, it was once a month, then every couple of months. The last time was twenty-two months ago. I guess that means I’ve moved on.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “Is it? Then why does it feel like I gave up? I believe in the impossible every day. Yet I couldn’t keep myself believing in him.”

  “You didn’t quit on your brother, Alex. You lived your life, which you might not be doing if you’d kept going back. It doesn’t exactly sound like a safe place to be,” I said, knowing the man was far luckier than he realized.

  “I didn’t care about safe. I cared about finding my brother. I was convinced he was still alive. I thought he had amnesia. That he was living in the woods and didn’t even know I was looking for him. But he’s not alive. He’s dead. Something killed him. And now something is killing people of this city.”

  “You think what killed your brother is here?”

  “No. But whatever is here, it’s not getting away. Not this time.”

  I was about to respond with something that might temper his unhealthy resolve, when the door swung open. A burly officer poked his head in with an apologetic smile. He offered me a polite nod before turning to Creed. “Sorry to interrupt. We’ve got a middle-aged male with one side of his body burned to ash. Captain wanted me to let you know.”

  Creed’s face was grim. “Where?”

  The officer shrugged a shoulder. “Some old boxing gym downtown. Couple of lifters showed up and found him in the back room. Dispatch said it was like the fire followed a line down the middle, right from the top of his head. Definitely sounds like one of yours.”

  I didn’t realize I’d even moved until I was in the man’s face, demanding, “What gym?”

  The officer looked at me sideways a moment before his eyes flicked to Creed for approval. Getting it, he nodded. “I’ll get the address,” and ducked from the room.

  My thoughts on a downward spiral, I pivoted away from the door. I’d only mentioned Sal in passing. I hadn’t expected Creed to remember or to understand my sudden change in mood, but the sympathy in his eyes said otherwise.

  He approached me tentatively. “There’s more than one boxing gym downtown. Doesn’t mean it’s yours. Doesn’t mean it’s him.”

  “I know.” But the phone was already in my hand.

  I didn’t breathe as it rang. This can’t be what it feels like. It can’t be, I thought, as I silently willed him to be alive.

  He answered with a gruff, “Sal’s.”

  I tried to smother the emotion in my voice. “Morning.”

  “Maybe for you,” Sal replied. “My morning started at five. Yours seems to start at whatever time you finally crawl out of bed.” Abruptly, unease replaced his teasing tone. “Wait, you didn’t get shot again, did you?”

  Creed was close. I glanced at him for a reaction, but he seemed not to hear. “No, Sal, I’m good. I was just checking in.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since now.”

  “Not that I’m complaining,” which meant he was about to, “but you’re getting weird in your old age, Dahl.”

  “Look who’s talking. I have to go. I’ll try to stop in later.”

  “You do that. ‘Cuz these boys need some motivation. Nothing like being shown up by a beautiful woman to get them moving.”

  “Flirt,” I said.

  “Heartbreaker,” he shot back, and we hung up.

  My relief was short-lived. I caught Creed’s eyes, and his sympathy was gone. They were filled instead with something I didn’t want to see.

  The pieces had fallen into place.

  “A gym owner…” he said deliberately, “like your friend. A barista in a coffee shop…the day after you were there. A jogger…on a trail you frequent. The vagrant…?”

  Flustered, I shook my head.

  He said it again, “The vagrant? Do you know one?”

  I bit my lip. I hated how plausible it all sounded. “Henry. He hangs around my block with his guitar. He’s given me a couple of lessons.”

  “He’s the one you were talking to at the dry dock?” I nodded, and Creed ran a grim hand over his face. “The man that was killed that night used to be in a band. Goddammit, Nite. This is about you. It’s all about you. It has been all along.”

  “Come on. Do you know how many people in this city go to a gym, go running—get coffee?”

  “Strike up friendships with homeless musicians?”

  I didn’t reply. Confirming or denying it wouldn’t matter at this point. I’d already dragged Creed deep into something even I didn’t comprehend.

  It doesn’t make sense. Retrievers wouldn’t waste time toying with me.

  Creed’s voice interrupted my drifting thoughts. “What about the Chandlers?”

  “They don’t connect.”

  “They have to.”

  I shrugged. My eyes wandered over the pictures tacked up on the boards, trying to accept what was right in front of me.

  I came back to the Sentinel to find a life for myself. Instead, I’d ended theirs.

  “Hey,” Creed said harshly. I looked at him. His oddly colored trauma wasn’t visible anymore. There was just an
anxious tension in his shoulders as he stared at me with even more wariness than before. “Think. What do you have in common with Ella Chandler?”

  “Nothing. I don’t have a family. I don’t know any families. They don’t connect.”

  Coen’s words echoed in my mind. Not everything connects.

  “There must be something or our theory doesn’t work. Think again,” he pushed. “Think harder.”

  I was. I was thinking how I’d gotten involved in the case to make it go away. Now I was the case, and my partner was coming precariously close to treating me like a suspect. His sharp blue stare was relentless and disquieting, full of force as he rode the fence between accusation and investigation. Is his trust of me really on such a razor-thin edge? Or was he so intent on the truth that he didn’t care how he got it?

  “If the last four victims are about me,” I said, “then we have to toss out the Chandlers. The crime scene, the way the victims were laid out, how they were treated; nailed down, taped, tortured. The residue. We’ve always known the details from that scene were different from the rest. Maybe the motive was too.”

  “What if the connection is the case? This all started after you were brought on board. That’s when you got their attention. The question is why. What did you see at that house?”

  “Nothing anyone else didn’t.”

  “You took photos, collected evidence.”

  “So did half your forensics team.”

  “Half my forensics team isn’t a target. You are. So isn’t it possible you saw or found something they didn’t? Something that’s more important than you realize. Or at least they think you found it. Then you followed that woman. You spooked her enough to make her fire into a sidewalk full of people. Why? Because she recognized you.”

  “From where?”

  “The Chandler house. She must have been in the crowd. How else would she know you?”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I said. Yet, whatever had turned their attention on me, it happened long before I went into that house. “I can go home and look at everything again. See if something stands out in one of the pictures I took or the samples.”

  “Good idea. But get it done today. These are warning shots. The gym, the coffee shop; neither were yours. The man at the dry docks knew your friend, but it wasn’t him. And the jogger…”

  “Me. She represents me.”

  “I think so, too. But why bother with stand-ins? If they wanted to scare you off, it would be more effective to go after the real thing and target your friends directly.”

  I grabbed his eyes. His look of worry mirrored my own, and I knew Creed was thinking the same thing I was. Maybe they already have.

  My legs were shaking. I sat down hard on the edge of the table. “Can you…?”

  “Of course. I’ll send patrol cars to check on your friends, Henry and Sal. You mentioned a regular coffee shop. We’ll need the address. Is there anyone else we should be worried about?”

  Ronan, I thought. But I didn’t even know where he was.

  Nadine. She’d never forgive me if I sent the police to her door.

  I settled for a weary shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “What about Marshall Parish? Barnes said you two were close.”

  Oren. I had to give him a heads up. “I’ll call him.”

  “That’s not how this works. He needs protection. So do you.”

  “I don’t—“

  “Yes, you do,” he cut in, with enough tenacity that I lost my will to argue. “I don’t give a damn what you did before you got here. Police, Fire Department, FBI—you could have been goddamn special forces for all I care. I’m not going to let you walk around, unprotected, in my city, with a bullseye on your back.”

  “Your city?” I balked. “I thought it was mine.”

  He blew out a quick, dismissive sound. “Definitely not.”

  “Okay. One condition,” I said, relenting with a wan smile. “I want Officer Evans.”

  “This isn’t a drive-thru. You get whoever Barnes assigns to the job.”

  “Evans knows how I work. I trust him.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. I’m getting that damn sketch artist up here, too. And while I’m gone, you need to make some lists.” Grabbing his glasses off the table, as he backed up toward the door, Creed ticked off the items. “One: anyone else you think might be in danger. Two: anyone you’ve pissed off enough that they’d kill someone else to hurt you. Because if we’re wrong, and it isn’t related to the case, then it’s personal.”

  “I’ve only been here six weeks.”

  “Then go back further. Family, ex-boyfriends, old co-workers, rivals…” He paused at the threshold. “Everyone has someone who dislikes them, Miss Nite. Someone you disappointed or left behind, someone you pissed off; an unrequited love, a jealous ex or envious co-worker, a friend who feels spurned or let down.”

  I stared at him, feeling helpless. “I hate this.”

  “I know.” Creed pointed at me with his glasses before slipping them on. “Make the lists. When you’re done, start sifting through some of these files. Look for a way to tie-in one of these cases. I’ll find Evans and send him in.”

  “So he can stare at me staring at dusty old files? It’s not necessary. I’m all right.”

  He nodded, but there was a meaningful set to his jaw, like he saw right through my bullshit. Thankfully, he didn’t call me on it.

  Creed walked off and left the door open. I listened to his retreating steps. They were quick and full of energy, reflecting his excitement. I didn’t begrudge him the emotion. My partner’s enthusiasm didn’t diminish his concern for my safety. It was natural. We finally had a pattern, something we could possibly get out in front of.

  But to him, it was a break in the case. To me, it was a nightmare.

  Twenty-Five

  I couldn’t look at any more files. I’d gone through enough already to know Creed had been zealous and thorough in his research. Not only had he concentrated his efforts on fatalities labeled as spontaneous combustion across the country, he’d pulled case files on a large number of other suspicious and unexplained deaths in and around Sentinel City. Quite a few of the recent ones had his name all over them.

  Throwing this man off a trail he already knew was there was going to be next to impossible. The best I could do was keep an eye on him so he didn’t get himself killed, which was an imminent possibility with the week I was having.

  My eyes were burning and half closed by the time Evans came in. He was out of uniform, in jeans and a blue sweatshirt. I saw the rolled up bag in his hand, but it was the aroma seeping through its paper walls that brought my head up off the table. “Cheeseburger?” I guessed.

  “And fries.” A drink in his other hand, he nudged the door closed with his foot. “I thought you could use something to eat.” A guilty grin twisted his lips. “I’ve already had four.”

  “Guess you’re feeling better.” I pushed the files aside to give him room. Evans sat his delivery on the table, and I gave him a quick squeeze. “Thank you.”

  Watching me dive in, he grinned. “Best sidekick ever, right?”

  I gave him a thumbs up and he plopped down in the chair beside me.

  “I’m sorry they called you in for this,” I said, pausing to shove a fry in my mouth. “You should be resting. I wasn’t thinking when I asked for you. I just…”

  “Missed me?” I laughed, and a wide grin spread across his face. Evans opened the straw and put it through the lid of my drink like he needed something to do. “I couldn’t stay put anyway. I have too much energy.”

  “Does anything hurt?”

  “Geronimo bumped into my arm a minute ago. Hurt like a son of a bitch for about thirty seconds. Otherwise, I’m okay.”

  “How is your partner? Still not trusting me, I take it?”

  “Ask her yourself. Barnes wants us covering you day and night until this blows over.”

  I winced. “That’s dangerous for her. And inconvenient fo
r me.”

  “We’ll figure it out. She can be a stickler, but she’s not unreasonable.” He reached over and stole a few fries.

  “Let’s hope you’re right. Not everyone can handle living in a comic book world as well as you. And if something happens to me, if she sees me die and then start breathing again, that’s a problem.”

  Evans coughed on his fry. “If you what..?”

  “Didn’t I mention you can take my heart out and put it back in?”

  “No…” he said warily. “But I wouldn’t mind if you mentioned it now.”

  “Death for a dragon isn’t the end like it is for a human.”

  “So, if a dragon dies, they come back as what…?” He didn’t even try to fight it this time. Grinning in perverse delight, Evans said with hope, “Some kind of flesh-eating zombie dragon?”

  “If we did, I’d be eating your brain right now instead of this cheeseburger.”

  “You’ve died? How many times?”

  I hesitated. “You are way too excited by this.”

  Snatching another fry, he bit off the end; watching me eagerly.

  “Three,” I sighed. “I’ve died three times.”

  “When?”

  “The last was about six months before I left Drimera. A nasty creature called a skelacreen impaled me with his tail.”

  Evans recoiled in sympathy. “That must have hurt.”

  “For a few minutes. Then I bled out. “Then I healed.”

  “It’s like this for the big-ass dragons, too?”

  “It can take eons for an elder to die of old age. Sometimes the energy of their souls fades before their bodies quit. The elders believe, if another soul finds them worthy, it can move in and extend their longevity. But if the body fades first, their soul can choose another.”

  “You’re talking about reincarnation?”

  “Something like that.”

  “So you guys have a freezer full of souls and hearts lying around waiting for a body?”

  “I don’t think it works like that.”

  “And your soul is…?”

  “Mine. It always will be. I wouldn’t qualify for the ritual.”