5. Death and Dolls
Death and Dolls
Jamison
J amison sat in the back of the large truck as he read through the case file he’d been handed after they’d finished packing the last unanimated bodies onto the transport truck. He clicked his teeth as he flipped the pictures of the bodies that had been found piled near an incinerator in the basement of the now condemned building.
The light of his phone flashed where it sat in the seat beside him. Picking it up, he looked at the message from his wife and sighed. He wasn’t likely going to be able to get home before midnight, so he sent the body across from him an annoyed look.
It was his luck to be on duty when this doll house was discovered. It was clear someone was running a huge operation here. The equipment that had been found was costly, and some of the items had even been donated to a hospital in the local area after having been cleaned and searched for clues.
“What were you made for?” he asked aloud as he looked at the bodies. Some part of him had felt weary the minute he discovered the line of oversized vials.
He shook his head, but there wasn’t any point in thinking too hard about it. Returning his eyes to his phone, he started to think about what he’d write to his wife when the truck gave a violent lurch. His phone slipped from his hands, hitting the floor. On reflex, he grabbed the empty seat beside him.
“Jeff,” he yelled, jerking his eyes to the front of the truck, but before he could get a clear view of what was happening, the entire truck swerved abruptly to the right, and he felt his world tilt on its axis.
The sound of metal tearing apart filled the air. He coughed as he frantically searched for the buckle that held him in place. “J-Jeff,” he shouted once more. His only answer was a masculine scream followed by rapid gunfire.
Finding the buckle, he pulled himself from the seat and hissed at the painful sensation coming from his right leg. Looking down, he could finally feel the burning pain of the hand’s width glass that stuck out of his leg. Cursing, he looked towards the front, only to see a shadow standing before one of the large Vials.
Their entire visage was in shadow, but the long scythe in their right hand and head in the other told him they weren’t friends.
“Who are you,” he demanded, his eyes searching frantically for his phone.
The stranger didn’t respond; they quietly walked forward, letting the head fall from their fingers.
His eyes widened, and he tried to maneuver but knew there wasn’t anywhere he could escape. The sound of guns going off told him the two jeeps that had been following behind the transport truck were under attack. “Stop, do you know what you’re doing?” he demanded. “This is a violation of the Human-Being Treaty.”
The flickering lights overhead brought their visage into view as the person drew closer. He flinched at the terrible crisscrossing of marks on the person's face; all on the right side, it looked like someone had hacked at their face.
“You humans love your rules,” the person said, stopping far away. A blue smoke rose from their feet, filling the space. The truck's walls vibrated, and the vials shook. “But your rules are only enforced by the powerful.” One by one, the Vials shattered. “I don’t follow them because I am powerful.” He grinned just as each vial exploded open and the sound of unanimated bodies moved, climbing from their vials; some hopped down. The scythe in his hand changed and morphed into a long sword, and before Jamison could release a scream, a line appeared between his lips. The upper half of his face slid right before it plopped to the ground, followed by his body.
The smoke evaporated, and the back of the truck was ripped open.
“Did you find her, Lugh?” a tight British voice asked from the opening. Eyes behind square-rimmed glasses narrowed on the bodies that all stood in a semblance of order. “Tsk, no, you haven’t.”
Lugh nodded, walking out of the back onto the street lit by the jeeps' fires. “It would seem she wasn’t in this batch of stock. Phen.”
“Well, shit,” a disappointed voice came from a red-headed male who was dragging a human soldier in black camo behind him. “I kept this one alive for nothing then,” he ignored his struggles, lifted him before him, and rammed his clawed hand into the man’s chest. Tearing his heart out, he let the soldier's body drop. He twisted the heart this way, and that was before giving it a sniff, and then he grimaced. “Ah shit, he was a smoker.” He tossed the heart aside. “What a waste of good meat.”
Phen grimaced as he looked at the redhead. “I don’t know what his lordship sees in you, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t eat the enemy before me, Beliel.”
Beleil laughed as he shook his head. “Sorry, Doc. No, I can’t do that. The fresher, the better.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled a handkerchief and pressed it to his nose. “Well, for now, we’ll return to the base.” He turned away from the truck. Lugh cast those prototypes to my lab. I will program them to hunt her down. I should have never trusted that idiot Nathan to keep her safe.”
Lugh lifted his scythe, and with a wave, the standing prototypes disappeared along with the truck and jeep. The humans' bodies remained strewn like broken figurines on the highway.
Beleil and Phen's forms wavered before they, too, disappeared.
Lanias
Standing before the large Nerium, she watched the large earthen-made snakes circle it. Her arms crossed as she considered her next choice for finding Eliza.
“How long have you been down here?”
She didn’t turn around at her sisters’ questions. “An hour at most. I needed to think,” she said, turning to face Sabina. “What brings a pregnant witch here?”
Her sister frowned at her, placing a hand on her stomach. Not that she was showing, but the glow and slight plumpness to her features were enough for Lanias to know that her sister was going to carry this child just as easily as she’d carried her niece. “I came because you weren’t answering your phone.”
Hearing this made Lanias blink, dropping her right hand to her pocket. “Ah, I must have left it in the office.”
“You did,” Sabina said, walking to her side. The purple light filled the large chamber, “I figured you’d be down here anyway; after all, we still haven’t found Eliza.”
Hearing this, Lanias turned away from her sister. Sabina firmly believed Lanias's search for Eliza was to protect her and because she was Sabina’s friend. If she knew the truth about why Lanias was desperate to find her, she wasn’t sure Sabina wouldn’t curse her out for it.
Some things were better left in the past. Lanias had done a number of things to become one of the four demons of Veil City. Some of those things would haunt her till she died.
“I should have tried harder to protect the others. I should never have given them the choice to be continually tracked or not,” she complained.
“You were trying to give them privacy,” her sister said, reaching out and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Not too many of us had that before. Stop blaming yourself for something you can’t control.”
Lanias sighed. “Sabina, I can’t not blame myself. If I don’t protect them, who will?” She met her sister's worried stare. “I tried hard to walk away once before, and what happened?” Her sister averted her eyes. “Three young and talented girls were taken and torn apart. Not one of them had a family member; every time I think back to that day we found them, I—” She looked away from her Sabina and sighed.
“I don’t want to ever think to myself, ‘I failed’ again. I told you then I didn’t care about the reputation I garnered, or if the whole world turned against me; I would protect you all…With or without the Nerium.” She looked at the glowing purple-secreted magic up above.
She shook her head and straightened her back, placing her hands on her hips. “I can’t mope anymore, it’s time I got more serious. I will find Eliza, and once I do, I will gather the others. We can’t keep this half-existence anymore.”
Sabina dropped her hand. “You’re going to call them back?”
“Yes, it’s time,” Lanias said as she turned away from the Nerium and headed for the steps. “The peace for our kind is over.”
All good things come to an end someday.
Tiller
Tiller looked over Malcolm and Alek; he’d left Castian and Raijin out as he didn’t want to be bothered by the lovesick warlock or the annoying Ogre, who’d shoot him down at any mention of leaving his fiancé.
He tapped his fingers along the edge of the meeting table as he walked to the front. “As you two may already know, you’re two other members are building lives outside of the Jackals.” He pursed his lips at this. He had held back on countless occasions his urge to throw those two assholes into the dark, but his very tiny moral code kept him back from such petty actions. “Unfortunately, I’ve been requested to send someone to the Wolf Reservations.”
“What?”
He didn’t bother looking at Malcolm; he knew the little pup would perk up at this news. “It would seem that several of their kind have been going missing over the last few years. The current Alpha has requested that the council send someone to investigate.” He frowned. “And they, of course, tossed the request our way.”
He glanced over at the werewolf, only to find the male wearing a complicated expression. He knew Malcolm didn’t have fond memories of his people. Tiller couldn’t blame him, though he wouldn’t feel sympathy for the man he’d found covered in blood. The werewolves weren’t completely accepted as a part of the Veil; they were more like honorary immigrants who’d been given access to the veil protection as long as they followed certain laws, aside from the occasional interference from the dead weight of the council, who enjoyed discriminating against them, they were mostly left alone.
Tiller, himself, hadn’t a view either way of the beasts. He’d only been interested in Malcolm when his file had come across his desk all those years ago. A man who hid his strength well, he needed that quality. As too many had grown threatened by his acquiring Raijin and Alek, both were seen to be two very powerful chess pieces, so he searched for another sword and found one being dirtied by those who lacked foresight for what they had in their hands.
“So, which one of you would like to go to manage these wild beasts?” he asked, ignoring the annoyed look Malcolm sent his way.
“I will not go,” Alek said; the vampire snorted. “The scent of dog is already horrid with this one.” He dodged the claws aimed for his throat by disappearing and repairing near the door. “I’ve also received correspondence from my third child; it would appear he’s having a slight disagreement with a few of my relatives.”
Tiller clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I hope you and others realize you’re not out of contract with me. Remember, the one you signed with your lives on the line?”
“Yes, yes, you are fond of reminding us of it over and over again,” Alek said boredly.
“I’ll go. There really isn’t any other choice, is there.” Malcolm's voice pulled Tiller’s attention away from the annoying vampire. His green eyes narrowed on nothing. “I knew this day would come, but I wasn’t expecting it would be something like this.”
Tiller frowned, his ears twitching. He truly didn’t want to send the man back to his land, but if he didn’t send someone, the issues would grow to the point that he’d have no choice but to ask for the blue jay's interference, and from there, his own interest would be put on hold.
“Fine, I hope that you’re able to deal with this matter in a timely manner, also.” He pulled a picture from the inside of his suit pocket and placed it on the table. Malcolm leaned forward, and the vampire reappeared by his side. “I’m also sending you because of this.”
The picture showed a highway, and along the road were bodies lying face down. Some were missing arms and legs.
“What is this?” Malcolm asked.
“It is a picture of the guards from the transport that was bringing those dolls from Doctor Nathan's lab to our world. Everyone was killed, and the transported bodies disappeared. Detective Jameson was one of the victims; the bodies have been gathered, and all have a singular telling marker that would interest you, Malcolm.”
The werewolf lifted his eyes from the photo to his. “What?”
Tiller grinned. “The person who attacked them ate two out of eight of the guard's hearts. There were claw marks around their necks; it’s very clear a werewolf was involved.”
Malcolm looked back down at the pictures. “You’re not sending me back home because of the disappearances.”
“No,” Tiller said with a grin. “I’m sending you back to find out just which of your little werewolf friends are working with the enemy. After all, a werewolf, without a clan, wouldn’t be hard to find, but this one doesn’t look to be without a clan. He left this.”
Tiller pulled something from his pocket and placed it on the table. It was a Celtic knot, and within the knot was a wolf with a shield in its mouth. “Does this remind you of something?”
Malcolm's eyes widened, and his hand shook as he reached for it.
“I did what I had to for our people,” his father said, weak and always simpering.
He rubbed his thumb across the front of the pin. “I’ll go,” he said, meeting Tiller’s stare head one. “I’ll find him and tear his head from his body.” Someone from his family was out murdering innocent people and using poor women for such evil.
Malcolm felt his rage grow; nothing was more shameful than harming a woman, and if the stories he’d heard from Raijin and Castian about what their own mates had gone through were true, the one working with them needed to be punished. Even more so when his own mate, who was still sleeping in his apartment, had been harmed by these people. He would return home, find the killer, and deal with this dishonorable murderer.
Tiller nodded. “Well, I’d much prefer you bring him in for questioning.”
Malcolm stood, his chair scraping back against the floor. “I’ll leave tonight.”
Tiller smiled. “See, this is what obedience looks like.” He turned his glare to Alek, who was eyeing the wolf thoughtfully. “If only all of you acted the same way.”
Alek didn’t even bother looking at him before disappearing completely from the room.
Malcolm
Malcolm gave Tiller a short nod before he walked out of the room. He would pack and grab Eliza, and after they stopped at her apartment, they would leave using human means.
He’d planned to use his sister's letter to go back home. It would seem he wouldn’t have to convince the damn fox of anything now.
As he entered the elevator, he felt his phone buzz. Pulling it out, he answered, “Hello?”
“I don’t know what you were thinking, but why is there a female in your apartment?” Alek’s question came from the other end and held a clear note of amusement. “She’s a fierce little thing.”
Malcolm felt his throat close. “What are you doing in my apartment?”
Damn that Vampire, he should have known he couldn’t keep Eliza's existence a secret for long.
Alek released a low hum. “I noticed a different smell on you, and you were a bit too eager to do Tiller's bidding. So, I got curious. Why does the big bad puppy want to go back home? And here we are.” He chuckled, only for something to go bang in the background. “Oh, it looks like she found me. I didn’t think you were the type to shack up with someone who’s not your—ow. Now, little love, that’s not nice at all,” Alek said before the line went dead on the other end.
Releasing a curse, Malcolm ran out of the building to his car parked at the corner of the block. His noisy team members would be the death of him. Alek had better not touch a hair on her head, or he’d tear that damn bloodsucker apart.