The Depths of the Hollow (Mercy Falls Mythos Book 2) Read online

  “I’m not glad about that. I’m not glad about any of this,” Ben differed.

  Faraday nodded. “We’ll have to talk about that. But first, do you remember anything?”

  “No,” Ben looked down, dismayed.

  “Well, you’re growing quite a rap sheet here. First Marvin...”

  An officer entered the room. “Detective Faraday, sorry to interrupt, but the prisoner has a visitor.”

  “Don’t call him that,” David Faraday said.

  “What’s that?” the officer said, confused.

  “Prisoner. His name is Benjamin.”

  The officer still looked confused, but for other reasons. “All right sir.”

  “And don’t call me that. Jesus, I’m only thirty-two. I’m just a few years older than you.”

  “Yes sir, I mean, Mr. Faraday.”

  “Detective will be fine.” Impatient, he shooed the policeman away. “Send in the visitor, please.”

  The officer closed his mouth and nodded, walking off. Ben wasn’t expecting anyone and was surprised to see her when she walked in.

  “Amelia?”

  “I heard they arrested you. I had to come and see you,” she said.

  “Why? Do you know what I’ve done?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you still want to see me?”

  “Benjamin, I know that wasn’t you. I mean, you weren’t you when you did those things.”

  It was strange to hear her call him Benjamin, rather than Ben, but it seemed somehow appropriate now.

  “I’m so sorry for you,” Amelia said.

  Ben reeled back. “Sorry for me? I should be apologizing to you,” Ben said.

  Amelia looked down.

  “I am sorry,” Ben said, “I’m so sorry.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “Then you know what I am.”

  “Yes. I didn’t want to believe it, but it stared me straight in the face. You did. And you didn’t kill me. Do you know what that means?”

  “You got lucky.”

  “No, Ben, it means you can control it. At least some part of you can.”

  “No. I don’t remember anything when I change. I’m just a beast.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “I belong in here Amelia.”

  “Maybe, for now. But someday.”

  “There is no someday. This is the end of the road for me sweetie. I’ve done things I can never take back.”

  Amelia frowned.

  “You should go,” Ben said.

  “Are you sure?” Amelia said. “I can keep you company for a bit. I don’t mind...”

  “GO!!” Ben shouted. He heard a bit of the beast in him, and it terrified him.

  She bobbed her head up and down nervously, a glimmer of tears in her eyes and said, “Okay,” running off.

  “Amelia, wait!!” She did not wait.

  Detective Faraday sat across from him at the desk, swiveling his chair around to face him and shaking his head disappointedly. “You sure do have a way with the ladies.”

  

  Closed off once again (he hoped for the last time), Faraday and a CSI unit scoured the Supra-mart crime scene. He came upon the fitting room with the smashed mirror. One of the investigators coming up behind him commented, “Seven years bad luck.”

  Faraday grimaced. “I don’t think luck has much to do with this. More like uncontrolled rage.”

  “You know something you’re not telling detective?”

  “Yes,” Faraday said, ambling off, leaving the investigator with a puzzled look on his face.

  He pulled a tin from his blazer pocket, depositing a wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth. He walked up behind a woman with red hair gathered in a ponytail, crouched down over something.

  “Found something there Scully?”

  She was not amused. “Very funny. More blood, that’s what.”

  The detective’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me,” he said, picking up. “Faraday.”

  “Detective, we found your gal,” said the cop on the other end.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope, just picked her up at the 7-11; returning an unopened pack of diapers.”

  “Holy shit! I’ll be at the station in five, uh, make that ten minutes.”

  

  Ben was curious when he saw the woman being led into the cell next to his, being walked between two policemen in handcuffs. She was in her forties, her hair partially gray and frazzled looking. She was not entirely unattractive, but there was definitely something off-putting

  about her. He guessed she wasn’t here for her good deeds.

  Detective Faraday came rushing in several minutes later.

  “Well well,” he said, looking at the new prisoner. He grabbed a wooden stool and sat across from her cage. “Helena Zabat, you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?”

  She glared at him coldly.

  “Don’t try that evil eye shit with me missy. Your gonna cough up some names right now, like who’s in your fucked up little cult, and you’re going to tell me what you’ve done with the little girl.”

  Helena eyed him curiously, as if he were a specimen in a Petri dish. “I’m not going to give you any names detective. It is detective, isn’t it? But I will tell you where the girl is. Would you like to know detective?”

  “I’m not playing games psycho. Tell me or I’m going to get it out of you, one way or another.”

  “Oooooh, scary,” she said. And something about the way she said it made him shiver inside.

  “She’s dead and buried. Gone. Poof,” she said, raising her arms and snapping her fingers.

  David Faraday’s eyes became slits, his face hard. He hurled the stool back behind him, vaulting up, reaching his arm between the bars of her cell, grasping for her neck. “You fucking bitch!!”

  She pulled back, his fingers inches away, laughing.

  Several officers had to grab Faraday by his arms to pull him away.

  “Oh, detective, you’re so intense! I LIKE IT! You see, everyone thinks I’m so innocent. I even have The Coven fooled. But not you detective, not you,” she mocked.

  

  He sat in one of the interrogation rooms, away from the prisoners. It took more than an hour to calm him down.

  One of his female colleagues walked into the room, placing her hand on his shoulder. He looked up.

  “Are you all right?” she said.

  “Yes,” he said. He wasn’t.

  “You have children Detective Faraday?”

  “Yes, I have a wife and three kids. Three girls. Don’t know how I got so lucky.” Faraday tried to smile and couldn’t. The officer nodded.

  “She told us where the body is. I think she wants us to find her. Like it’s amusing to her. I’ve never seen anyone so cold and detached.”

  Faraday looked away.

  “If you’re not up to it...”

  “I have to know what we’re dealing with,” Faraday said.

  “Bull will be back in town in two days. He just called,” she said.

  “The sheriff? Thank God!”

  “I agree. If anyone can get a name out of her he can.”

  

  Whatever it was she was doing Ben didn’t like it. The prisoner had her head tilted down, eyes intense, staring up at the bars of her cell. She seemed to be chanting something, low, under her breath. Benjamin Caldwell trembled.

  The woman- Helena- he thought Faraday called her looked to be having some effect on the bars, because they seemed to be pushing outward, bending away from her.

  “What the...?” All the officers were in the next room, not watching. Why would they? She was in a cell, secure.

  The steel went further and further out, not so much bending, he realized, as they were stretching, growing. They bent under their own weight because they were expanding in length, growing beyond the ability of the cage to contain them.

  “Officers,” Ben said, intending to shout. Paralyzed by the unbe
lievable nature of what was happening, it came out a whisper. The bars were extending beyond a point that seemed rational- pushing out in a sideways V- becoming pliable the more the metal was stretched until it appeared almost liquid thin, elastic.

  “Officers!!” he yelled.

  They came running. Two of them were broad-sided as the door to the cell blasted open, slapping them to the ground. Helena walked out of the open cell.

  There were another half dozen officers rushing into the room. Faraday was jolted out of his reverie by the commotion. The female officer looked at him wide-eyed before they both made a sprint toward the holding room.

  Helena Zabat was throwing things around. Not with her hands, but with her mind. She was gesticulating with her hands, arms outstretched to either side of her, fingers curling and clenching, making pulling and pushing motions. She made strained contortions with her face, her eyebrows knitting together. She only seemed capable of hurling small things- several hardcover books and thick paper manuals, a domed glass paperweight, a pencil cup holder with pencils in it- a desk lamp being the largest of these.

  The paperweight flew and struck an officer in the forehead, making a dent. Books hit shoulders and stomachs with enough force to cause the injured to drop the guns they were raising and double over. The desk lamp swung its green glass dome, striking an officer on the side of the head, knocking him unconscious. The pencil cup holder shot out a barrage of wooden projectiles into one officer’s unlucky face, one of the pencils jabbing him in the eye.

  Dave Faraday and his companion came in to the

  middle of this, watching as Helena stepped over the injured bodies, and walked through the front door, out into the night.

  “Hey!!” he shouted after her, un-holstering his gun. She turned. The female officer was closer to Helena, just a step ahead, her gun at the ready.

  “Stop now or we’ll shoot,” Faraday said.

  Suddenly a branch from a tree on the side of the street lunged toward the female cop, growing thick tendril-like fingers that grabbed at her, swallowing the hand with the gun in it, as she blasted away, sending a spray of wooden bark through the air before more branches snaked around her, wrapping around her neck, choking her. Some of these same thin tendrils wrapped around Faraday’s ankles, knocking him off his feet. He held fast to his gun, knowing he only had the one chance. The detective fired upward, blasting Helena three times in the chest. She dropped almost immediately, and the branches fell away from his colleague.

  Dave Faraday rushed over to the officer. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said, holding her neck, coughing, “I’ll be all right.” She was in a daze, much like Faraday. He shook his head and walked over to the prisoner.

  “Yep, she’s most definitely dead. Nothing a few well placed bullets can’t fix.”

  “We should get back inside, see about the injured.”

  “Yeah,” Faraday said. He was still shaking his head.

  “What is it?” she said, as they walked back toward the station.

  “Nothing. Just not sure how I’m going to explain this one to the sheriff.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE HUNTERS AND THE GYPSIES

  There was an anxious, persistent knocking at the door. “Guys, let me in!”

  Pete Whiteman, Julia Stevens, and Carl Napier knew the voice of their roommate and teammate anywhere. It was Mary.

  “All right, all right!” Pete said, “What’s the rush?” He lingered on the last word as he opened the door and saw that Mary Crowley held a baby in her arms. Right now it appeared to be sleeping. Mary pushed in past him.

  “I got away, but I don’t know if anyone followed me. I don’t think they caught on that the baby’s gone, but they must have by now. I don’t know if they saw my car, watched me drive off...”

  “Whoa, whoa girl, slow down,” Julia said, “Who?”

  “Vamps! I think they were getting ready to sacrifice him or something. I couldn’t see from where I was, but I heard screaming. Someone was killed, and the baby, I found it.” Mary moved toward the closest bed and set him down. “He was so frightened.”

  “I’ll bet,” Julia said.

  “Where were you?” Carl asked.

  “Patrolling, near the woods,” Mary said.

  “Why’d you go without us?” Pete asked.

  “I wasn’t planning to. I was just... driving, and then something, something led me there.” She panted, out of breath. “I don’t know.”

  “Okay, well, she’s here now,” Julia said.

  “He, it’s a he,” Mary corrected.

  “Okay, he,” Julia acknowledged, “What do we do?”

  “It must belong to someone,” Pete said.

  “No,” Carl answered.

  “What do you mean no?”

  “His parents are dead. They killed him.”

  “How could you know that?” Pete said.

  “I think he’s right,” Mary said. “I got the same feeling. I believe he’s been orphaned. He was part of some kind of ritual.”

  “Even so,” Julia replied, “We can’t keep him.”

  Mary picked up the baby, holding it protectively to her chest. “Who else is going to take care of him?”

  “He must have grandparents, other relatives... There are foster homes,” Julia suggested.

  “We can’t call the police,” Mary said.

  “There’s no way we’ll explain this,” Pete added.

  “It was left at our doorstep,” Julia said, “There, I explained it.”

  “You’re heartless Julia,” Mary said.

  “No, I’m a realist. How are we supposed to hunt the undead with a child to take care of?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Mary offered. “I’m not letting him go to a foster home. Who knows when he’ll be adopted?”

  “What if it has relatives though?” Carl said, “Living relatives?”

  Pete looked at her, and said, “Guys, stop. Let her be.” The way Mary was looking at the baby, and cradling it to her Pete knew she was already in love with it, because he knew her. “We’ll decide in the morning.”

  Mary smiled at him gratefully. “We need to get some baby formula. He’s probably going to wake up hungry.”

  “I’ll go get some,” Carl said, “You guys stay with him.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Julia said.

  It was odd, Mary thought, but it was almost like the baby’s presence made her uncomfortable.

  

  Three nights ago Blake had watched the girl Sarah take her own life. He had to keep reminding himself she was a vampire. Fulton Blake hadn’t felt anything for any vampire since his own daughter Vivien was claimed. But she’d had no humanity left when he’d encountered her again; only contempt and mockery for it.

  Now, wandering the streets again he felt lost; not without purpose- he knew what his purpose had been all along- but slightly unsure of himself. He made his way to the Dizzy Diva. Perhaps some spirits would clarify his thoughts. At best, it couldn’t hurt.

  He sat at his usual table in the back, starting with a dark draft beer, before moving to the hard stuff. Blake wasn’t expecting company, but not long after he sat, he heard someone speak above him.

  “So you are here,” she said.

  Fulton Blake instantly recognized the pretty girl with the short bob.

  “Stephanie is it?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m so sorry...” he shifted as if to get up.

  “Please,” Stephanie said, signaling him to stay. She sat across from him “I...” she started. Blake raised an eyebrow. “I wanted to thank you Mister...?”

  “Blake, Fulton Blake. Thank me?”

  “Yes. For what you did for my friend the other night. What you tried to do. I could never have brought myself to do it, and I probably would have gotten myself and other people killed.”

  Blake understood. “Where’s your friend?”

  “Who? Oh, um, Gwen. Yeah, she doesn’t know I
came here to see you. I didn’t want to involve her.”

  “I see.”

  “I’ve lost two good friends to these... vampires.”

  She said the word like a curse. “I think you’ve, at least, spared me from losing any more.”

  “I know about loss,” Blake said, and when she tried to press him on it, he would say no more. His face scrunched up in anger. “There is no limit to the dreadful things they are capable of.”

  Stephanie agreed, “Which is why I want to work with you.”

  Blake settled back, grunting.

  “You’re a hunter right?” she said. “You hunt them. I want to join you.”

  “Oh dear girl, you have no idea.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but Blake cut her off.

  “I’ve involved others before, nearly got them killed. Even back then I was just an old fool. I work alone.”

  He got up this time for real, irritated. Stephanie rose hurriedly to block him. This infuriated him more.

  “I understand your anger, and your resolve,” Blake said, “Believe me, I do. But you’ll only get in my way. I can’t look out for you. Now please, kindly step aside.”

  “No.”

  “Move it little girl!” He shoved her roughly. She screeched in surprise. She wasn’t hurt but the other patrons looked up, worried. He’d already pushed past her, and now he looked back.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, contrite. “I just don’t think you realize what you’re asking of me. Don’t look for me again.”

  He walked out. The lady bartender Jeanne walked over to Stephanie. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” Stephanie said, “I’m fine. Remind me never to thank him again.”

  Jeanne nodded. “Congratulations girl, you’re the first person to get him to walk out on his tab.” She was clearly not pleased, or sympathetic. “You know who’s going to pay for that?”

  Stephanie sighed. “Yes, all right, I’ve got it.”

  

  “He’s so defenseless,” Mary said, “Look at him.”

  “I’m looking,” Pete said. The baby was still asleep, and they were alone in the room with it. “Maybe we should call the police. There must be some family.”