Night Bites (10 page)

I wonder if everyone has been warned this over the past day or so. I cannot remember even Alex touching me in that stretch of time. I am sure he did, but I don’t remember it. I do remember me touching Marcus, but Sebastian had already beaten him to a pulp.

“If I am touched, he won’t have to worry about Sebastian kicking the shit out of him. You know I like to give castrations for that offense and I don’t delegate that enjoyable task,” I say bringing their attention to me. “If you guys are done catching up, I would like to get this meeting started.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, Ms. Slaughter,” Kent says taking on a cowboy twang he didn’t seem to have in the last five minutes.

“No worries, Mr. Newhouse. I am sure Jonas doesn’t have a whole lot of friends, so any conversations not revolving around me are probably a pleasant break for him. Sadly for him, all conversations eventually turn to me.” Demon Dog starts growling softly by my feet. He must have smelled a new werewolf he could try to dominate. “Please take a seat,” I instruct Kent without standing up. He places some papers on the desk in front of him.

“Don’t mind if I do and please don’t be offended when I say this, but why the fuck do you smell like a vampire?”

Jonas gets a gold star today for cluing me in that this might happen. I take measure of the close up version of Kent Newhouse. He is still ridiculously silly looking in his get up. He has taken off his hat now that he is sitting with a “lady” and he has a very bad case of hat hair. He should probably think about cutting the golden locks a bit shorter. That might help with the flattened look.

“What were you expecting to find when you came to visit me today?” I ask holding his gaze.

“Sure not what I have found, so far. You have Jonas and a vampire getting all cozy in the waiting area out there and in here, where I am expecting to find the werewolf I have heard about, I find something that sure the heck smells like vamp. And what the fuck is that growling? Is someone hungry or do you have a little baby werewolf in here somewhere?”

It is nice to know he won’t find my own language offensive. Wanting to shock him and see his astonishment on the growling front, I bend down and pick up Clyde.

“The growling is from my little puppy here. Isn’t he just the cutest thing?” I ask while setting Clyde down on a semi clean part of my desk. Clyde continues to growl and lets out a couple yips to show just what a big dog he is.

“You are in the possession of a Hellhound,” Kent says in shock. “I have heard a lot of crazy stories about you, but this was never mentioned.” From what I have heard so far, he is a bit behind on the crazy stories.

“Clyde is a new member to my family. As you can see, he is still learning his manners. Something you should probably consider if you are coming here wanting me to help you,” I say giving him a glare as I settle Clyde back down at my feet. “You stay there and be good,” Clyde wrinkles his little nose at me, but ends up curled in a ball.

“You are correct, ma’am. I haven’t been on my best behavior, but I blame it on all the shocks I received after walking in your door.” He slips into his cowboy accent again and I have a feeling it is going to bug me if he keeps insisting on using it off and on in the conversation. It doesn’t even sound very authentic.

“Yes, well, weird and odd kind of define my life. Until I know you better, I think it best we don’t actually delve into my life story. Nothing in it will change my ability to help you with whatever you have troubling you,” I tell him.

“I expect it wouldn’t, unless you have an issue with the sun,” he says almost like he is fishing for more information. I would have hoped in the last five minutes he would know better.

“The sun is, and has always been, my friend, as far as not being toasted by it. I do prefer darkness, though.”

“Don’t we all,” he says with a sigh. “Since you hang with Jonas, he may have already mentioned my stomping grounds.”

“Ghost Town. Very original name,” I state picking up my mini slinky to keep my hands busy while he gets on with it. It seems most of my meetings give me a lot of slinky time. It stops me from grabbing weapons off the wall and practicing my juggling technique.

“Yes, Ghost Town. The town you cannot find unless you really need it. I came across it twenty years ago when I was on the run from a Collective agent. One second the asshole was right behind me, the next I was in a fully functional town with no people to tend it. I was the first person there and I set myself up as the mayor.”

I glance at his outfit giving him a questioning look. “The sheriff gig came later, when more people showed up. There are times when we need a little law and order. Every year I get a handful, or two, of new citizens in my little town. Things work out well for us. Crime rate is pretty low, well until recently it was anyway.”

There are so many questions floating through my mind. Do goods just appear or do they have someone go into a real town to buy things? If he was on the run from the Collective, is he a criminal or one of those that are just in the way? How is it that this place even exists? And of course, does he have a horse? I think all roads lead back to that last question.

“I imagine, I only have answers for about half of those questions,” he states picking up where my mind is going. “Not many outsiders know about Ghost Town.  Some people in the resistance, like Jonas and Alex, are aware because they get a hold of me from time to time wondering where to send people to look for asylum. The town doesn’t always let everyone in, but we can give them a general place to look.”

To me it sounds like a strange oasis out there. “What is going wrong that brings you to my door?” I ask.

“I have a murder spree on my hands and I have no clue how it is even possible,” he replies.

Oh goodie. Murderer equals death by Nyx. I think I am starting to enjoy this little meeting.

Chapter 13

A chapter full of questions

“You know, the easiest way to get on my good side is leading with you got someone you want me to kill,” I tell him honestly. “We could have gotten right by our little pissing contest a lot quicker if those were the first words out of your mouth.”

“I will keep that in mind if we have further meetings,” he says while he takes a look around my office. Other than the great wall of weaponry and invisible glyphs, there isn't much to look at. Basically, he is staring at my weapons.

“So, tell me about the murders,” I say putting down the slinky and grabbing my phone to take notes.

“They started two weeks ago,” he says starting his story. “A young werewolf that hadn’t been in the community for too long was found skinned. She had just found us the month before the incident. When we found her body, she was still alive, but in the end didn’t make it. Between the amount of time it would have taken to regrow her skin and the life she had before she joined us, we think she just gave up. I don’t know all the details about her outside life, but she did indicate having issues with males in general.

“We are stumped on who in the community could have done something like this. We are all running from something, but none of us are violent. If someone is violent, they sure hide it well. Anyway, since the first we have found two other women left in this condition. One of them is still alive. The other, we aren’t really sure what happened to her. The doctor had her sedated and when someone went to check on her one day she was gone.”

Skinning is a really nasty hobby, but I have had the pleasure of killing at least one sick fuck that picked the hobby up. What drives them to do what they do is lost on me, but I have no problem avenging their victims.

“As you can imagine, I have lots of questions,” I say finishing typing in his general synopsis of the situation. “First, is there any link between the victims? Did they know each other well, did they eat at the same deli, did they have similar characteristics?”

“They were all women between twenty and thirty. First victim had just turned twenty, second was twenty-three, and the last was twenty-eight. Other than being that close in age there are no connections that I can find. They were two brunettes and a blonde, eye color all different. Physical sizes varied enough that I don’t think stature was the driving force behind the choosing of each girl,” he says consulting his notes. His are of the pen and paper variety.

“Okay, so getting victim profile is going to be a little difficult. With that established let me get the nasty question out of the way. Where is the skin?” I ask.

“It has not been recovered. If we could have found it, we might have tried grafting it back on the one that has since passed in hopes she would have fought a bit harder to survive.”

“I figured as much, but I had to ask. Have you been able to determine the weapon used from what is left?”

Just thinking about having to study a skinless body makes me a little queasy. It isn’t so much from the visual. I have seen way too many nasty things in my life to let that bother me. My problem is imagining the pain the person must have gone through to have the skin removed. It is one of the ways I refuse to die. I will figure out a way to kill myself before allowing someone to skin me.

“Best I can tell, since I don’t have a lot of technology and such in my neck of the woods, is that it was an everyday filet knife. I didn’t really have to look at the bodies for the information, though. The one witness we have says that is what she saw being used.”

“You have a witness that is talking and she saw the weapon? Why isn’t she directing you to the person doing the crimes?” I ask.

“Her memory of it isn’t that great. She has told me very little, but seems adamant on the weapon used. How she is even able to talk astounds me every time I have met with her,” he explains.

“What about the victim that is now missing, were you able to talk with her?”

“She hadn’t come off of sedation, so no. We only have the one witness that we can try to find more information from,” he says leaning back in his seat.

“What time frame are we looking at? Who was found when?”

“That part is at least following a pattern. So far, it is five days between each found body starting with the first one two weeks back. The missing woman was the middle victim and the last one we found four days ago.”

“Meaning you are expecting a new one tomorrow?” I think he should have contacted me just a bit sooner, especially if it takes hours to get to his town. It doesn't leave me a lot of time to stop this.

“As long as his pattern holds,” he says agreeing with my assessment.

“And the most recent victim is conscious, but the one taken days before her wasn't? When did the missing one vanish into thin air?”

“Sheila went missing the night we found Debra. We were preoccupied trying to see to her needs. When someone went to check on Sheila she was just gone. As far as Debra being conscious, she has more or less the same wounds, but the severity of hers were less than the others, I guess,” he says.

“And just to clarify, for my notes, I am going on the assumption that these are full body skinnings, correct?”

“Yes. Betty, the first girl, had her ears removed as well. The other two still had theirs attached and in one piece. It is almost like he tried to remove the skin from Betty's and failed, so he didn't bother on the other two.”

Yuck. This guy must be a real winner. “Did anyone notice the women missing before they turned up in their new clothing?”

“No one remembers specifically seeing them, but that isn't unusual as a lot of people tend to keep to themselves.”

“Just how many people call Ghost Town home?”

“At last count, minus the recently departed, one hundred and twenty three, so not many people and the majority of those people are extremely wary of others, especially outsiders. I don't know how much you will actually be able to help because of that fact.”

“Are you all wolves, or even paranorms for that matter?” I ask.

“Mostly wolves. We have about a dozen witches and I think three vamps. Not an extremely diverse population.”

“Out of curiosity, what is the male to female ratio?”

“Pretty even. Females probably have the advantage, sixty to forty.”

“And in your investigation, no one has stuck out as a possible culprit? There isn't someone you are leaning towards and you just want me to come in and confirm?”

“No. I cannot find any evidence. No scents or prints left on the bodies that I can detect. I have checked a few times and still come up with nothing.”

“Where have the bodies been found?”

“Just inside the entrance to the town. It is like they went out and someone threw them back in. It is pretty isolated around the entrance on the outside and I didn't see any tracks leading to it. An outsider wouldn't be able to find the entrance,” he explains.

The idea of them being tossed back inside means an outsider could be involved, but would have to be working with someone on the inside. “Are there any townies that have moved back into reality?”

“Yeah. Some people have come through just needing a respite from short-term pressures. Why some people are let in and others aren't, no one knows for sure, but we aren't held there indefinitely. In fact, most get bored after a while and will venture into the outside world. Some come back, others don't.”

“If you are with someone who knows the secret you can get in, right? I mean that is the only way I am going to be able to come do a further investigation.”

“Yes, if I show you where to step, you will get in. We have had a few people join the town that way.”

“What about kids. Does the town have any rugrats running around?” I ask. I am not looking forward to visiting this town, but I don't think I have much choice.

“There are probably less than a dozen. I think the youngest is five. Are you about done for now? I would really like us to head back. At last count no one was missing, but I would like to do another check to see if anyone has been taken before tomorrow,” he says starting to fidget.

I check the clock and see that it is only one. If we take the Suburban, I will only need to grab some clothes. Hmm.