Chapter 4 #4
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, and called one of the people he disliked most.
“Brent. What a surprise. To what can I attribute the honor?” Shane, Brent’s CHARON contact, answered with the same slippery charm that always grated on Brent’s nerves.
“Who’s killing hunters, and what do vampires have to do with it?”
Shane was silent for a moment, long enough to make Brent suspect that Shane might be surprised that Brent knew something, but not that he found the question unlikely.
“You’ve been watching too much TV,” Shane finally replied, but his condescension didn’t sound as cocksure as usual.
“Here’s a theory. Tell me if you’ve heard it,” Brent said. “Someone is waking up dormant monsters and luring hunters to deal with them in order to put a hit on the hunters if the monsters don’t kill them.”
“There’s therapy for those kinds of delusions, Brent.”
Yeah, he definitely sounds a little shaken. “Is CHARON behind it? You’ve never cared much for hunters who don’t play for your team.” Brent found himself holding his breath.
“Freelance hunters are unruly, undisciplined loose cannons that pose as much danger to themselves and bystanders as they do the monsters,” Shane replied, slipping into the company line Brent had heard before. “But it’s a stretch to suggest that we’ve put a contract out on them.”
“Has someone else? Because there’s too much going on to be coincidental, and when I think of bureaucratic, immoral, powerful organizations that wouldn’t blink at offing people who got in their way, CHARON is at the top of the list.”
“Oh, we’re all of that,” Shane replied. “But in this particular case, we aren’t involved. You can take that as meaning we aren’t involved because there is no conspiracy, or because someone else’s team has the ball, but it’s the truth.”
For one of the only times in their long, acrimonious relationship, Brent believed him. “Are vampires behind it?”
Shane’s pause was longer this time. “What do you know?” His voice had lost its humor and dropped into a deeper, more dangerous tone.
“How about I tell you a story?” Brent pushed his luck.
“Someone with money, connections, and power wants to be rid of rabble hunters so they can operate more freely. They lure hunters onto ginned-up hunts to cull the numbers with plausible deniability. Meanwhile, they broker a deal with the rich, immortal monsters—aka vampires—who want to run their business enterprises hunter-free, for a cut.”
“Interesting story,” Shane said. “Got proof?”
“Working on it. Can you prove me wrong?”
Shane gave an exaggerated sigh. “You know, if there is such a plot—and that’s a very big, unlikely ‘if’—calling the people you think might be involved puts a huge target on your back.”
“Sometimes you need bait to draw the monster out of its lair,” Brent said. “If it isn’t CHARON, is Sinistram behind it?”
“Join us and you’ll be safer,” Shane said. “The offer still stands.”
“Still no,” Brent countered. “I know you guys in the secret societies talk, after you compare your decoder rings and club handshakes. So what have you heard?”
Brent could picture Shane seething, and it was a bright spot in an otherwise suckish day.
“The less powerful vamps have been lying low more than usual,” Shane finally said.
“Wish we could take credit for it, but we can’t.
The top fanger brass has pretty well fallen off the map—they have their hidden society, and they’re aware we know about it.
We had a truce. They don’t slaughter people, and we don’t wipe them out. ”
“Since I don’t think even you could cover up a wholesale vampire massacre, I’m guessing the truce hasn’t been broken,” Brent replied.
“Yet.”
For the first time, Brent heard a note of fear in Shane’s voice.
“You think there’s something in the works?” Brent was afraid Shane would remember who he was talking to and clam up before he said something important.
“Just a hunch. And since a bunch of us are psychic, that counts for something,” Shane replied.
“People are taking omens seriously, that black moon, and then the lunar eclipse. Weird power outages and more reports of shadow creatures than usual. Don’t know whether that matters or not.
But if something was in the works, killing off hunters would help avoid being interrupted. ”
“Good point, but why pick us off instead of going after the monster special forces, that’s what CHARON sees itself as, right?” Brent asked. “You’re organized, professional, and armed to the teeth. We’re a rag-tag bunch of guys with rifles and salt. Why go after us?”
Shane didn’t answer, and Brent felt the unspoken reply like a gut punch. “Oh my God. They wouldn’t have to, if CHARON is already compromised,” Brent said in a voice barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t say that,” Shane defended. “I just patiently listened to your theory to be helpful.”
His lack of an outspoken denial was worse than if he launched into a heated defense.
“Thanks. You’ve actually helped a lot.” Brent ended the call before Shane could get in a snarky reply. He sat there for several moments, staring at the phone in his hand, processing the conversation.
Shit. He as much as admitted that either CHARON is already involved, or that they might not side with the hunters if something happens. If that’s true, they’re not the ones in charge, which leans into Sinistram taking the lead. But what’s in it for them? And where do the vampires figure into it?
Brent’s email pinged, and he saw a new message from Mark with the list of hunters he had requested. Brent pushed worries about vampire conspiracies out of his mind for the moment, made a fresh pot of coffee, and dug into the comforting routine of data searching.
An hour later, he called Travis, who answered on the second ring.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Travis asked.
“Because even with the good drugs, I can only sleep for so long,” Brent replied. “And if anything was going to knock me out, it would be research. But it hasn’t yet.”
“I’m guessing you found something?”
Brent wiped a hand across his eyes. He was tired, which was to be expected. But it was “body tired” and not “brain tired,” which meant that even if he lay down, his mind would keep going, and sleep would remain out of reach.
“Mark sent me a list of dead hunters that he hadn’t had a chance to look into.
A few of them were monster deaths, noted as ‘attack by wild animal’ in the official report.
But the rest were mundane—hunting accidents, car wrecks, fell down a ravine, and a couple of self-inflicted gunshot wounds,” Brent told him.
“All of which would be pretty normal if you didn’t know they were hunters and if they hadn’t all happened in the last two months,” Brent concluded. “And while I was poking around, I found a couple of names I recognize from CHARON.”
“Not sure that tells us anything new, but it helps to confirm the theory,” Travis agreed.
“Yeah, well, wait till you hear the rest.” Brent caught him up on the rest of Mark’s comments, as well as what he was able to get from Shane about CHARON.
“That’s not good.” Travis’s harried sigh told Brent that his partner wasn’t surprised, but had held out a shred of hope that he might be wrong.
“And it’s more than I’d get if I called Father Liam or anyone else in Sinistram.
But I think we go with our theory about them being behind everything until something proves us wrong.
I just wish we could figure out the bigger plan. ”
Brent knew that just thinking about making contact with Father Liam was enough to trigger Travis, so he appreciated the sacrifice implicit in the offer.
“I don’t think there’s any point in making us a bigger target to Sinistram than we already are,” Brent replied.
“I can almost understand—from their perspective—getting the amateur hunters out of the way. Although the risks we take are ones they don’t have to, so we’re valuable at least as cannon fodder. ”
“But regardless of how the causes of death were recorded, more monster sightings and hostile ghost reports mean that regular people outside the hunting community are noticing,” Travis pointed out. “That stokes fear, and people react badly when they’re afraid. Hence the first rule of Fight Club.”
“Don’t talk about it,” Brent replied automatically. “Sooner or later, people are going to start talking.”
“They already are.” Travis recounted stories that several of the residents at St. Dismas had shared about more monsters on the streets, more homeless people disappearing, and evidence that the creatures were responsible.
“Apparently there’s a whole new cottage industry selling amulets and reading omens. Everyone’s on edge.”
“It’s almost like part of their plan is to create the fear among regular people, and make the monsters more vulnerable as well as the hunters,” Brent mused. “Maybe we shouldn’t be looking for logic. Is it possible that someone just wants to see it all burn?”
“Wow, remind me not to give you the good drugs anymore,” Travis responded. “Gloomy much?” He paused, and Brent knew Travis was taking a moment to seriously consider the question.
“The Church has a definite ‘no one gets out alive’ slant on the best of days,” Travis replied.
“And that’s the Catholics—not counting the Protestant groups that believe in the ‘End Times’ and a final Apocalypse—capital ‘A.’ I’ve never been attracted to any of those theories because when you cut through the drama, destroying everything didn’t make sense. ”
“That’s because you’re not a fanatic,” Brent pointed out. “I could be totally off base. I hope I am. But when logical reasons don’t pan out, you start looking at plausibly crazy.”
“I hadn’t thought to go in that direction, but I can put out some feelers. That would go along with all the talk of signs and portents,” Travis replied. “In the meantime, get some rest. We’ve got a haunted circus wreck to handle.”