One of the Damned: Finnegan #2 (Midnight Defenders) Page 2

  I turned to go, but stopped and turned back. “Any chance you know where the Coroner’s office is?”

  He shrugged. “Main Street. Next to the pharmacy. Sign outside says County Attorney. Place like this, it’s the same guy.”

  ***

  Outside, the air was cold. As I climbed back onto the motorcycle and headed to town, all I could think about was the waitress. Danielle Tapper. A girl that I knew very well. But…that was a lifetime ago. Twelve years, to be exact.

  I was twenty-two. I’d just graduated from college and we were engaged to be married. Back then, we lived in Wisconsin, in the kind of small town where the young had dreams of leaving and the grown knew they never would. I’d known the girl my entire life. We grew up together, dated all through high-school. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t share with her.

  Except that night.

  Two weeks before we were scheduled to walk down the aisle, my friends took me out for what was to be the most epic bachelor party…a small town like that could muster... Luis drove. He had one of those old Astro vans, and we all piled in together. It was me, Luis, Trevor and John. They didn’t tell me where we were going, only that I’d never forget it.

  Luis drove way out on the state road while we passed a joint around. I didn’t question where we were going, not even when we crossed the bridge that marked the county line. I figured they had done their research.

  We pulled up at a gentlemen’s club and went inside. There was no name on the front, and it wasn’t much to look at, but the drinks were cold and cheap, and the women were untouchable. Legs for days. I was entranced almost immediately.

  After hours of partying, laughing and joking, taking shots off the dancers, we saw some weird shit, things that made me think I was hallucinating, like maybe there had been something mixed into the weed. But we were young and stupid, not looking for danger, just looking to get our rocks off.

  Eventually, everything began to blur. Luis went off with a blonde. I ended up with Araña.

  God, she was beautiful. Long, raven hair, pouty red lips, and the biggest, most hypnotizing eyes I’d ever seen. I remember being alone with her, remember her undressing me.

  Then she bit me.

  I woke up in a cave and covered in blood. It was dark, but light came spilling in through the mouth in the rocks that glimmered along the red floor.

  I was on a cot, of sorts, sticky white fabric, taut but bouncy. I was barefoot and topless, a little confused, very hungry. Hanging along the walls were three large sacks, heavily laden, the same kind of fabric I was sitting on, suspended from the cavern ceiling. Splotches of red like camouflage, dripping onto the floor.

  A sudden panic came over me, and I moved to the mouth of the cave, stumbled out onto the rocks in the cool night air. It was raining, but I was dry. Above me was the county line bridge. In front of me was the river.

  I stumbled into the rain, over the rocks and up the hill, out onto the road, disoriented…and so hungry. Somehow, I smelled them before I saw them. I could hear the beating of their hearts like a marching drum chorus line.

  They stood in the rain at the far end of the bridge. Three figures: two men and a woman. The man on the left was dressed in a white t-shirt with black leather gloves and vest, dark denim pants. He had a pistol held low in one hand. The woman stood in the middle and wore a hood to keep the weather out, dark, form-fitting clothes, tall boots. She had a bow slung across her shoulder, a knife gleaming in her hand. The other man wore a long coat and a flat-brimmed Andalusian hat.

  For some reason, when I looked at them, the only thought in my head was to feed. And without thinking, I charged them.

  The first man stepped forward, smacked me in the face with the butt of his gun, and dropped me on my back. The other man put a boot against my chest and stood over me. “Go,” he told the others. “I’ll handle this one. Find the beast.”

  Then he knelt over me. He tried to talk to me, but I didn’t listen. I was feral, angry, for some reason. And so hungry. It took me a minute to realize that the words the man was saying were Bible verses. But it didn’t matter. I just wanted to eat his face.

  He had dark hair under his hat and a neatly trimmed-beard.

  I snapped my head forward to bite him, and he punched me in the nose. He shook his head. “Be gone from this child!” he screamed. I lashed at him again, and again, but he hit me until I stopped. I felt my nose explode like a grape, the warmth running across my lips. When I tried to bite him again, he shoved garlic in my mouth.

  From under his coat, he produced a small bottle of clear liquid. He held me down at the throat with one hand, pulled the stopper with his teeth, and emptied the bottle into my mouth. It was cold and bitter. The entire time he held me, he spoke from the Bible like a mantra: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…. No weapon formed against me shall prosper….”

  Within minutes, I was suddenly very tired, felt my eyes and my limbs become very heavy. So heavy that it didn’t matter how hungry I was. Then I fell asleep.

  When I woke, I was in a hospital. I ached all over. My head spun. I was so thirsty, and my mouth still had a very bitter taste. Danielle was there. She leapt up when I woke and threw her arms around my neck. “Thank God!” she said. “It’s been days. We weren’t sure if you were going to ever wake up.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “There was a car accident. Down at the county line bridge. I…” Her voice sounded so weak. “I’m sorry. Luis and…”

  I felt blank, but managed to nod. She sat with me for a time, and we cried. Eventually, she managed to collect herself and said, “I’ll go get the doctor.”

  It wasn’t a minute after she left that a man entered the room. He was a priest, from the way he was dressed, though his face was the kind of familiar you know from a dream. The dark hair, the neatly-groomed beard.

  “You,” I said.

  He nodded. “I’m glad you’re awake. That means the antidote took. For a while, I was afraid we were too late.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Caleb Roden,” he said.

  “You’re a priest.”

  He nodded.

  “Danielle said there was a car accident…?”

  “We arranged it.”

  “What really happened?”

  “What do you remember?”

  “The strip club. I remember that bitch bit me. Then I woke up in a cave. There was blood, and then…you punched me.”

  “The dancer, Araña…she was a jorogumo. A spiderwoman. Her kiss, as it’s called, injects a neurotoxin into the blood that hyper-inflates the primal centers in the brain.”

  Part of me wanted to rebel against the words he said. Logically, it made no sense. Spiderwoman? There was no such thing. But I thought back to what I had seen in the cave. The white, sticky fabric, like webbing. The wrapped up sacks that hung from the ceiling…

  “And my friends…?”

  He looked around the room, maybe trying to find the words. Then he just looked at me and shook his head.

  “The spider…?”

  “No.”

  “Me?”

  He nodded. “But you were not yourself.”

  I felt my stomach turn.

  “The elixir I gave you was an antidote. It counteracted the toxin and flushed your system. And we were able to dispatch Araña. You should be fine now.”

  I laughed bitterly. “There’s no fine.”

  “No. I don’t suppose so. I’m very sorry.”

  I looked at him, felt tears pooling down my face. “I…” I sighed, hung my head. Closed my eyes.

  He took a few steps closer, set his card on the side table. “If you need to talk.”

  I didn’t look at him. “About…toxins and weird spiderwo…things.” I shook my head. “What does a priest know about that?” I stared at his card for a minute, and when I looked up, he was gone.

  That’s when Danielle came back with the doctor. They did tests, gave me some mor
e medicine. I was in and out of consciousness for hours, doped up on meds. Several times, I tried to talk to Danielle, struggled with the words and realized how stupid they sounded, and after an hour heavy with awkward silences, I convinced her to go home and get some sleep.

  I woke up around midnight, alone. My dreams had been filled with vivid images of spiders and naked women and Caleb Roden with a shotgun. In a moment of clarity, I knew as much as I wanted to that I couldn’t talk to Danielle. There was only one person that could answer the questions that plagued me.

  I dialed the number on the card and waited until he answered on the other end. He sounded like I woke him.

  “You said if I needed to talk…”

  “You’re the kid from the hospital,” Caleb said.

  “Yeah.” I nodded as though he could see me. “What the hell happened to me? Who the hell are you?”

  There was a long pause. After a few heartbeats, I wondered if he’d hung up or fallen asleep. “I’ll tell you,” he said at last. “I remember being where you are now.”

  “I need closure. Need…”

  “Revenge?”

  I felt something quicken inside me.

  “It’s not about that,” he said.

  “I saw you on the bridge. You and those others…like some kind of hunters.” I held my breath as I said, “Teach me to do it.”

  ***

  Valentine, Nebraska was a small town, that was for sure. The kind of place where all the shops line up along the one main drag like something out of the Old West. A town soon to be ghosted once the mining or gold rush ran out. Maybe a place in the middle of nowhere that served as an oasis for passers-through…until the railroad bypassed it completely. The only thing that separated it from the many other small towns I’d been in was the hearts painted on the side of nearly every building, on the banners that still clung to the sides of lightpoles like baby sloths.

  I parked the bike at the curb and put change in the meter. There were a few other cars parked along the street, but no other people that I could see. Which was weird, being the middle of a business day. I found the County Attorney’s office. A sign in the window read “Out to Lunch,” and the door was locked. I checked the time on my phone. My stomach rumbled.

  I did a quick survey of the surrounding businesses, but didn’t see any other restaurants. From the signs, they had places enough to meet most of their needs: pharmacy, dry cleaners, liquor store, hardware, tanning salon slash video rental. Further on down, maybe a mile or so, I could just make out the signs for a Comfort Inn, a Denny’s next to it. A McDonalds further down.

  I chose the pharmacy.

  The man at the checkout counter was older, balding, but with an impressive beard like something out of the Old Testament. He was dressed in flannel and overalls and had intelligent gray eyes behind thick glasses that studied me as I approached. Probably staring at my scars. “You’re not from around here,” he said. His tone was light, conversational. “Passing through?”

  “I was, but I like the town. I might stick around a day or two.” I set a couple of candy bars, a bag of chips, and a Coca Cola on the counter.

  As he scanned my items, he said, “Not much around here for attractions. Not anymore.”

  “You mean since Valentine’s Day? I heard your celebration was to die for.”

  He looked up at me with wide eyes. “Oh, so you’re here for that.”

  “You mean the murders? Yeah, you got me. Can you tell me anything?”

  His expression changed just a little, like a light in his eyes went out. “I watched one happen.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Right there in front of me. Tim Able and his girl were coming out of the hardware store down the way.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I was just closing up, and it was getting on into the evening. I might not have even noticed them, but they were arguing something fierce.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, I was watching them, and the girl turned all of a sudden and just went quiet. Looked like maybe a branch had just sprouted from her chest. She spun, fell over. Well, the Able boy starts yelling, moves to grab her, but before he can move, the same thing happens to him.”

  “Did you see where the arrows came from?”

  He shook his head. “Everything happened so quick. I ran toward them, but by the time I’d gotten there, they were both…” He shrugged.

  “How long ago was this?”

  He thought for a second. “A couple weeks back. The latest victims were a ranch-hand and a maid, last night. Folks thought maybe they were running around together. Then there was an older couple just passing through the week before last.”

  I nodded. He’d managed to bag my items, and I took the plastic sack. “Well, thank you.”

  As I started to walk away, he said, “Are you just here about the murders, or are you interested in the other stuff, too?”

  I looked back at him. “Other stuff? Like what?”

  “Well, there’s a few. There’s the hearts, for one. First the Trent Farm, a few weeks back, then the Nichols’ place. All the cattle in their south fields were killed. Their hearts ripped out and arranged like one of them crop circles…”

  “Arranged like what?”

  He looked surprised. “Like a heart. Then there’s Paula Owens who reported chocolates raining in her front yard. There’s been a few reports of talking animals…well, singing, rather: show tunes and love songs. Mostly creek frogs, some goats, a flock of geese. Next county over, every flower turned into a rose overnight. Then about a week ago the Tackett farm chickens all laid those chocolate cream eggs…”

  “Cream eggs?” I said. I thought about that for a second, maybe because it didn’t fit with the rest of it. “Is he over in Easter County?”

  “How do you figure?”

  I shrugged. “Valentine, Nebraska, right? Hearts, arrows at lovers, chocolates… It all, in the weirdest way possible, fits the theme of the town. The cream eggs don’t.”

  The cashier considered that. “Yeah. I suppose you’re right. Didn’t really factor that.”

  I eyed him curiously.

  “So, you said you were sent here. Mind if I ask who you’re with?”

  “FBI.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t look like a Fed. The jacket, the motorcycle.” He studied me. “No. I’ve seen Feds before. You’re not it.”

  I shrugged. “I’m just not orthodox.”

  He watched me a second longer and then let it go. “Well,” he said. “Thanks for stopping by. Enjoy your stay in Valentine.”

  ***

  Outside, I drank the Coke and walked the street. Realizing I had some time to kill, I returned to my motorcycle and slipped out my Codex. The book was thick like a dictionary, ancient as a tome, with a worn leather cover void of any writing. The only thing that set it apart was the in-set Fleur-de-lis, the symbol of the Hand of Shanai.

  The Hand was an old organization, and the Codex was a compilation of lore that had been passed down on every creature they’d encountered or learned about. It wasn’t the be all and end all for information on a topic, but when you needed a refresher, it was a damn good place to start.

  I flipped to the section on Erotes and read:

  Known as demigods, the Erotes are believed to be Sidhe of the Seely persuasion. Taking their name from the Greek god of love, Eros, also called Cupid, due to their similar look and function, it is unknown if the Erotes are actually related. Equipped with a bow and heart-tipped arrows, they spread love and sexual desire where it is needed most, rekindling old flames as well as igniting new ones. They have a special affinity to chocolate and, like all Fay, weakness to iron.

  I closed the book, pulled one of my Colts, and ejected the magazine. I took a few minutes to trade the loaded standard rounds for iron. When I finished one, I did the other. By that time, I’d finished my pop and eaten my snacks, but the County Attorney had not returned.

  The office number was displ
ayed on the glass door, and I programmed it into my phone. Before I drove on, I left a voicemail with my number and told him I was a Fed looking into the murders.

  I headed back the way I came from, remembering a sign for the county sheriff’s office on my way in. If the coroner couldn’t tell me anything, maybe they could. It was March, and cool, but as I passed the last of the buildings that marked the downtown strip, it suddenly got cold. It was the kind of cold you felt everywhere, like jumping into a pool, and even under my leather jacket, I shivered. But as fast as it came, the feeling passed, the normal spring chill feeling almost warm in comparison.

  I thought it was some freak gust of wind, but as I looked around, I didn’t see so much as a tree branch swaying. I took a deep breath and shrugged, filing it away under one more weird thing in Valentine, and kept going.

  Before long, I saw the roadhouse coming up ahead. I thought maybe I’d stop in and talk to that reporter again. It hadn’t been more than an hour since I’d seen him last. Maybe he could shed some light on the other things the pharmacist mentioned. Which, as far as I knew, had gone so far unreported and didn’t exactly lend themselves to the Erote idea.

  As I pulled in, I crossed my fingers that Danielle’s shift had ended.

  The parking lot was a little emptier than before. The tractor and a couple of the cars had moved on, which was okay. One of the cars had South Dakota plates, and I figured that was the one I needed. It was a Prius, and brand new by the looks of it.

  I had barely stepped inside, to the warmth and darkness when I heard, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  I stopped and scanned the room, but all of the tables appeared empty. Slowly, I turned around to see the waitress. She stood on a stool with a dust rag in her hand, wiping down a set of old football pads that had been mounted to the wall above a record player.

  I had to look up at her. “Danielle. Uh…hi.” So much for that thought.

  “I never expected to see you again. Then you show up here. I thought I was going crazy, earlier. I thought, what with all of the other bizarre shit happening in town, that maybe I was starting to hallucinate or…”

  She shook her head and climbed down. “Why are you here?”