Waylon's Crossing - 4. Chapter 4: Detective Work

Waylon's Crossing
Chapter 4: Detective Work

The scene of death was a gruesome one, more so for the time which had passed since the incident. Scattered around the empty warehouse, lanterns illuminated the grisly scene for the members of the Watch who were charged with identifying the bodies and cause of death. A dozen demons lay dead, and a few more blood trails led to others, all tagged and marked.

In elemental form as little more than smoke, few humans had eyes quick enough to spy Aure. He could be smelled, though, so he drifted through the shadows, getting as close as he dared to the dead. Small flags pinpointed the location of tiny holes that, were Aure in human form, would have caused a small frown to form across his brow. The holes were too large to be from vampire fangs, and there were always two, anyway; nor did the bodies looked to be gnawed upon by other predators, other than rats, here and there.

Ten holes, and deadly. Four between the eyes, five to the heart, and one to the thigh of a creature that had, either before or after, been sliced open neck to navel by a small, but very sharp blade. Knife and sword work were easy to recognize.

Something disastrous had occurred here and, by the stench of it and the stiffness of the bodies, whatever it was had gone down sometime in the early morning hours. The Watch, however, only seemed to have recently made this discovery.

The demons were all large, strong sorts, with that something indefinable extra that marked them as Hunters, even in death. At least to Aure's eyes, anyway. From their conversations, the watchmen didn't seem to have a clue what was going on. And why should they? The Demon Queen kept her interference in human affairs quiet and subtle. Citizens of Waylon's Crossing had no reason to suspect anything. Only the poorer areas of the city saw demons at all. They stayed mostly to the Borderlands where they were more welcome.

Whatever scents had been there originally were now obscured by all the activity. Aure sank down, to drift slowly over the floor, testing the air. He did not learn much, other than a vague presentiment of fear and danger. The air here was disturbed, hiding from the interlopers, sweating in their armor and uniforms, the air silent and still.

Wind was fickle, and would soon forget any supposed danger. That there were still uneasy ripples in the current was unusual. Aure tried to get a sense for what had happened, but there was only darkness, a perception of movement and noise, and then nothing. He could learn nothing further. No wonder the city was upset.

He almost gave up there, leaving the City Watch to their work, when a tiny draft pulled at him, directing his attention to a grate set within the floor for drainage. Moving closer, Aure could detect the slightest increase in tension, the air pushing him forward weakly, but insistently. He slipped between the grating.

The scent of blood and demon was strong, even through the muck of the sewer. From one side, Aure could feel fresh air, coming from the river nearby. On the other, just the sewer and fading demon scent, the blood smell disappearing quickly. He followed the trail. Another dozen or so demons had passed this way, and it was too much coincidence to suppose it unrelated to the bloodbath above.

The way twisted and turned beneath the city, oftentimes seeming to double-back on itself or go in circles. Without the stale air to guide him, Aure was very certain he would, at the very least, have lost the trail, if not his bearings. He moved cautiously, feeling his way with care. Hunters did not normally work in groups, usually singularly, or in pairs. Aure didn't want to find himself amidst a gang of demons without warning.

*          *          *

Alan's ears heard the noises before the sources came into view. The scuffling of feet. The shouts. A light breeze brought the smells to him, faint, but enough to sense the fear and excitement of the sound makers. He reveled for a bit in his glorious world of senses, loving the free feeling of the open air, the sounds and smells that were so distant and yet so near, the grumbling in his stomach urging him to go and hunt. There was meat nearby. Fresh meat. Prey that would run and give him the pleasure of the chase. And he hadn't been hunting for so long ...

The beast stood up on his haunches as if to spring away, a menacing face drooling with bestial need, a growl deep within his chest. The urge to howl built in his throat and the beast was only happy to oblige. He sucked in the air and tilted his head back, opening his vocal chords to sing the night song.

His face screwed up as nothing but a choking sound came from his mouth. Had it been so long that he'd forgotten how to howl? Had he forgotten the hunt as -- No. No he ... wasn't supposed to. Wasn't supposed to what? To hunt? To be heard ... seen. Ah, there was to be a stalking then. It'd been so long since he'd stalked his prey. They always had that sense of imminent doom around them too, that delicious, anticipatory scent, that ... No! He ... he wasn’t even supposed to be out! He'd be caught or killed! C-Can't he hear it? That clinking of metal with each step; the hoarse, demanding shouts? That's the Watch! The Watch and ... and Kynan! Kynan was why he was out! Not for the hunt! Not for the hunt!

As Alan regained control, overwhelming dread flowed into him. The park gate slammed and Alan jumped at the grating metal. He'd never seen the gates closed, hadn't been sure they were even useable anymore. He heard muffled voices, the sounds of shoes on stone, the tapping of swords in sheaths.

"Fuck!" hissed Bryce. He ducked back into the alley. That was the fourth patrol in as many minutes. It wasn't just the park, either. The city was practically crawling with watchmen, as if every member of the Watch was out in arms. "What the hell is going on tonight?"

The footsteps drew closer. Alan realized that he'd been overtaken by his acute senses again. He cursed silently, shivering against the wall behind Bryce. Damn this body! Every scent and sight and sound was such a distraction, every feeling and emotion magnified. It was almost unbearable to push aside his instincts, but he had to keep out of sight. There wasn't much he could do for Kynan if he were in jail. Alan and Bryce squeezed further into the shadows as the two men came around the corner. They wore the uniforms of the Watch, and one of them was a vampire.

Bryce cursed again, but very, very quietly. He'd had more than one encounter with that vampire. Of all the people they had to encounter tonight, did it have to be him? At least they smelled of sewer and dead fish now instead of their respective species; but that was tricky in and of itself. Nothing rotting should be on Angel's Way. The acolytes and apprentices studying to be justiciars kept the streets free of trash and grime.

"He has to be around here somewhere!" snarled the vampire. "Tell them to keep searching! And block off all exits to the park!"

Alan caught his breath. They were closing the park! Kynan was in there!

Bryce glanced at Alan. "We have to do this fast. It's nearing dawn." He would lose his eyes, and the werewolf certainly couldn't wander around naked without arousing suspicion, especially if whatever had stirred up the Watch kept them swarming around like bees even after sunup.

"But," panted Alan, "the park? Aren't they -- how're we to get out?"

"Can you swim?" Bryce replied, peering out again to see if the other vampire was still there. "There's access to the sewers under the lake."

"Oh. I ... I don't know." Could he force his wolf body to go under water? "But what about Kynan? If he's hurt --"

"He's avoided them so far, hasn't he? He can't be that hurt." Although, yet again, Bryce had to wonder about that. The werewolf's story was just not adding up. He shook his head. Too late now.

"Okay." The vampire on the Watch vanished down the street. "It's clear. Let's go."

They dashed across the street, Bryce letting the werewolf lead once they reached the cover of the park. They moved slowly, darting through the shadows and trees, freezing at any loud sound.

Alan searched the park for the bench he'd been laying on in the dream. He found it, but no Kynan. Desperate, he searched for clues, sniffed the air, looked for something that would indicate he'd been there, but to no avail. It was the place in his dreams, of that Alan had no doubt, but it was as if Kynan had never been to this place.

The beast was hungry and Alan was frightened. He sat beside the marble bench, looking up at the towering Cathedral. "Kynan. Where are you?"

Bryce eyed the tree line nervously. They were close to the lake, but the area was too open for his comfort. He couldn't see or hear or smell anything, but the hairs on the back of his neck were rigid with the sense of impending danger.

"Is this it or not, kid?" he hissed through clenched teeth, drawing one of his knives.

"It is," he answered, "but I don't understand, I can't sense him anywhere!"

"Shh! Damnation, kid, want to alert --"

A twig snapped off to their right. Bryce threw the blade in his hand, but didn't wait for the resulting wounded cry. He bolted for the water. A crossbow bolt twanged into the ground just ahead and to the side of him, making the thief jump.

"Halt, Bryce." The other vampire stepped out of the trees. "Don't make me shoot you. You know I will."

Crouched under the bench, Alan watched a half dozen of the City Watch approach. Two of them held nets. He shivered.

Bryce took a few more steps and then slowly turned. "Whatever's going on, David, I have nothing to do with it." He kept his hands out away from his body: non-threatening.

The crossbow didn't dip. "We shall see, but after your recent falling out with the Guild, there's no one to protect you now, is there?"

He scowled. That wound to his pride still stung. Tossed out of the Thieves Guild of Waylon's Crossing, for bringing too much attention to himself. How absurd was that? They'd threatened him, told him to leave, but Bryce was too stubborn. Imagine, telling a vampire as old as himself to get lost! Preposterous!

Unfortunately, David was right. The Guild would rejoice that he'd landed in jail again. They would not help him. He didn't wonder that the Watch knew. There were rumors of high-ranking members being in the Guild's pay. Bryce knew for a fact the rumors were true, and Inspector David Moore was the worst of the lot. He should know. He'd sired the rat-faced prick.

It was an accident; the inspector had been undercover for something. Bryce had meant to kill him and had often meant to since, but when he'd found out David was a watchman, he'd stopped. He'd just arrived in Waylon's Crossing at the time, and killing a member of the Watch would have set the Thieves' Guild against him from the start. He'd decided to risk fathering a new vampire. Unfortunately, as soon as said vampire had regained his wits, he'd gone running back to the Watch. Bryce should have had the next century to train and teach David, but had been abandoned instead. Someone else had taken David under their wing, and he'd nursed a fervid hatred for his sire ever since.

He wondered why David hadn't just shot him. The inspector tipped his bolts in a powder paralyzing to demons; the stuff would even temporarily stun a vampire. Didn't work on werewolves, though, or any of another dozen species, but the silver tips would certainly smart, if the wound wasn't mortal anyway.

He kept his hands up, watching with suppressed fury as other watchmen came up and bound his hands. Still others bound the werewolf, snapping a muzzle on, and they were escorted out of the park to a waiting wagon. Another handful of unfortunate souls sat tethered within. One or two made faces at the sewer smell still clinging to Bryce and Alan, but the rest were either unconscious or didn't care.

By the time the sun came up, they were securely within the precinct, behind bars.

*          *          *

Aure peered around the corner. Two red-skinned demons stood obvious guard outside a locked door, deep within the catacombs below the cathedral. Aure hadn't realized demons could go anywhere close to the consecrated grounds, but apparently they'd found a way. Slithering against the wall, he materialized before the demons, a thin blade of air in his hands. The demons died within seconds of each other, and then Aure stood at the door. He jiggled the handle and then quickly began to search the bodies.

Bryce would be handy about now; there were no keys. That wouldn't stop an elemental, but, if there was somebody inside, he wouldn't be able to get them out again. Evaporating back to his elemental form, Aure slipped between the cracks of the door.

There was one torch in the empty antechamber, and the coppery scent of blood was heavy and thick. He went in further, shuddering at the agonized, near-silent screaming coming from somewhere toward the back, and down. He'd fought in the Demon Wars, but what he saw next almost made him retreat.

Two demons stood at the bottom of a set of stairs, circling another demon trussed up and hanging from a hook in the ceiling. Blood dripped slowly on the floor. There wasn't much to the room not covered in blood and gore and Aure had to concentrate hard on not passing out from all the mental anguish contained therein. Rats squeaked nearby but they didn't come within the circle of torchlight.

There was no earthly race that could torture a creature the way demons could. Torture was their most-appreciated art form. In the wars, Aure had come across a few victims. Dead, if they were lucky. This demon had evidently run afoul of a master. Both horns had been viciously sawn off, he'd lost the sails between the spines of his wings, he dangled from his arms as if they were boneless, so he'd probably had most of the bones in his body broken, he had only one eye, the other being a dark hole, burnt out with a brand, most likely from the little fire in a corner. Aure didn't get close enough to see if he still had fingernails, he rather doubted it. He could see clearly that the genitals had been mutilated, and he looked to have been flayed. There wasn't an inch of him, outside his face, that wasn't bloody and raw. The demon didn't even flinch as flies landed on him.

"Morticai!" The black demon prodded him harder, making the body sway. "Traitor!"

"No," gasped the prisoner and Aure did flinch then. The demon had no teeth, just bloody gums. "Your Grace, please!"

The female demon handed the other a steel-tipped flail. Aure huddled into himself.

"You told her! Didn't you?"

"No, Your Grace! I swear! It was not I!" His voice dissolved into sobs. "Please, Highness, let me die? Kill me, I beg you." The demon shrieked in pain as the flail thudded into flesh. "Kill me! Kill me, please!" He coughed, a thick, liquid sound.

"Pretend to betray your mistress, all to betray me! Didn't you?"

"No!" Morticai screamed.

Aure had to look away for a minute, breathing shallowly, but he could not leave. That was the Prince of Darkness. The trail he'd followed led directly to Xeran's private torture chamber. There was something afoot and Aure had to find out what.

"You're the only one who could have told her!" shouted the prince, circling his prey.

"I didn't! I didn't, I didn't, I didn't."

"Then tell me who your accomplice was! Morticai, you slime-encrusted pustule, you want death? Then tell me who told her! Who is the halfling? What does he mean to her? You told me they were lovers, damn you!"

"Your Grace."

Aure's attention was suddenly all for a dark form rising from the floor of the cell. He fled at once, hearing: "An intruder, Your Grace," echo through the stone walls behind him.

An elemental! Not just any elemental, but an Earth Elemental. Aure fled for his life. He had to find that magistrate and report on his findings.

The Prince of Darkness had been banished at the end of the Demon Wars. If he was back, if he was planning on making a move against his sister once more, then there was far more trouble afoot than he could deal with on his own. The city had to be warned.