August and Minerva, Investigators of the Supernatural: The Otherkin (Part Twelve)

A rattling of thick chains fills River’s senses. He can feel their weight and smell their metallic scent. They are the chains that hold King Bodon, and the Old One commands His freedom. River knows that it is folly to let King Bodon through now; the sacrifices the Old One requires are not all in place. However, as River’s strength fails, he becomes desperate. He considers what has always been taboo — unleashing an Old One unfettered into the world.

Minerva’s concentration does not falter. She feels the power of the elements stream through her. River has proven himself to be much stronger than she had expected; she’s never seen a conjuror able to withstand such a prolonged assault. She suddenly feels a surge in the air. It is a familiar feeling, and she knows what it portends. She feels like her hand is being forced.

River is letting the gate between worlds fall open. Minerva has fewer and fewer options open to her; she feels like she is being left with no choice but to kill River. The temptation is there. It is the simplest solution: she kills River, the gate closes, and the world is safe.

“Do it!” she hears the voice of King Bodon in her thoughts. At first, it does not seem alien, and she is certain that the thoughts are her own. “Kill him, and you will have saved the day. It is as simple as that.”

“No.” she responds silently. She directs the Winds of Hell toward the ceiling of the cave, and debris immediately begins to rain down on River. River splits his concentration between his connection with the Other world and his shield; he thinks that Minerva’s maneuver is a ruse, and refuses to lower his magical protection. As a large rock tumbles out of place, he raises his arms to deflect it with his shield. He doesn’t see Tobias lunging towards him.

Minerva watches as her husband, still wolf-headed and coated in bloody fur, wrenches the conjuror’s arm unnaturally. The cracking of bone and snapping of sinew resonates in River’s consciousness. He lets out a painful cry as his concentration breaks like a china plate thrown against a wall. Minerva dismisses the Winds of Hell and begins a soft chant.

Her voice is sweet and angelic, slowly rising through octaves and cascading back down again. River recognizes the chant: it was recorded in a mural within the Temple of Summoning deep within the jungles of Honduras. The words hadn’t been chanted in many millennia. River couldn’t even conceive of how anyone would know the melody of the chant. In moments, he felt the connection between he and King Bodon fading. As the power of the Old One faded from his body, pain remained in its wake. Tobias crouched above River’s body, his knee pushing the conjuror’s skull against the ground.

Minerva touches her husband’s arm, slowly stroking his coarse fur.

“Let him go.” she says lightly, without command or condescension. Tobias yields immediately, leaving River quivering on the ground, battered, broken, and bleeding. Minerva reaches a hand out to River, and he winces. He thinks that it is his last moment on Earth and closes his eyes. But when nothing happens, he opens his eyes and sees Minerva sitting next to him, binding his wounds.

“Why?” asks River, “When you have the power of a god, why don‘t you just let me die?”

“Because I’m not a god.” responds Minerva, “And I couldn’t sleep knowing that I killed someone again.” River looks at her and for a moment sees her golden, glowing aura. Beyond, he sees the girl Kristabel talking with the police on a cellular phone. He shakes his shaggy head and rests it on the ground.

August awakes, prompted by Prabha’s hand on his face.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” she says, her eyes smiling. She is dressed for her shift, her hair plaited carefully, descending towards her waist. “They told me you slept in the waiting room all night. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just really tired.” August replies. He wearily stands, swaying slightly. He gropes his coat pockets, producing his cell phone. Unsure of how long he has slept, August checks the time.

“Don’t worry. Minerva came in late this morning. She and Tobias had some minor injuries, nothing that Contessa couldn’t handle. Right now, she’s checking for any residual spells; I think that they’re clean, but it is best to make sure.”

“What happened?” asks August, “Last I knew, Tobias and Minerva ran off without a word. I got caught up with the police, and one thing led to another. The first chance my body had, it just shut down.”

“The two of them tracked one of Lana’s victims to a cave on the edge of the forest, right by the Gorge. From what Minerva told me, Lana somehow talked the girl into going to a conjuror. The conjuror was supposed to change the girl into a hybrid of tiger and human, but in reality she was to be a sacrifice for King Bodon. The conjuror was almost successful, but Minerva and Tobias foiled him.” says Prabha. She notices the look of dismay on August’s face. He feels like he was left out and that he did not do enough for the investigation. Prabha takes one of his hands in both of hers, looks into his eyes, and reassures him that he did the best he could.

Minerva and Tobias arrive, talking loudly with Contessa, a nurse with limited healing powers. August sees them, and immediately notices the vitality sparking within Minerva. She seems to glow with joy when she sees August.

“If I knew you were on a date again,” she says, “I would have given you more time.” Minerva is filled with happiness; she feels like a whole person. Seeing August, seemingly happy with Dr. Kholsa, doubles her joy. However, when they all go to lunch to celebrate their shared success, she doesn’t mention that she used magic to subdue River.

Meanwhile, River lies in a locked room secreted in the bowels of the hospital. His breathing his slow and low, his eyesight is blurry. Machines ping and beep around him, standing like plastic and metal sentinels. A symbol of binding is written in blood on his forehead, preventing him from using his magic. However, he still feels power surging through him. King Bodon might not have crossed over, but something else did. That something sleeps in River’s innards, biding its time. River feels the same sensation of fear, joy, and pride that an expectant mother would feel.

He wonders how long before the fruit comes to bear, but reminds himself to be patient. As always, good things come to those that wait.

August and Minerva, Investigators of the Supernatural: The Otherkin (Part 11)

August sits quietly in the interview room at the police station. The room isn’t made for interrogation; August expects a high powered CEO to bust in through a door shouting about mergers and profit margins. His sleep deprived mind allows a smile to skulk across his lips and Detective Worthington doesn’t appreciate it one bit. The detective leans forward; his fingers interlaced in a gesture that makes him seem like a television caricature.

“Mr. Kane took a look at the dragon lady’s wounds. He’s verified that they aren’t from a werewolf; your friend should consider himself lucky that Kane’s an honest guy. It wouldn’t take much for him to say ‘he’s our man’ and get a payday. Half the guys at the scene had already made up their minds.” says Detective Worthington, his cow-like gaze matching well with his constant gum chewing. Across town, Tobias wouldn’t consider himself lucky.

He feels like someone stabbed his brain with a thick needle and swished it around his skull. The next sensation he feels is a strange mixture of cold and warmth; looking up, he sees River shielding himself with a shimmering wall of purple, sizzling energy. Despite his protection, he looks to be in poor shape. Tobias cannot imagine what is keeping the conjuror standing. It is a moment before it registers who is assaulting River.

The old power courses freely through Minerva, using her magic feels like stretching her legs after a long car ride. She called on the elements, and they heeded her as they always did; she formed them into a stream of fire, ice, wind, and stone shards. Minerva’s grandfather Adrian had called this “The Winds of Hell” and when he taught it to her; he pronounced the name with a wide smile. There is nothing to laugh about the Winds of Hell; it is a gruesome and deadly spell.

Skin tears from River’s face and hands; blight blue flames lick his legs, leaving behind mixed patches of charred black skin and frost bite. He can feel his power fading. His arms feel heavy. He wants to just lower his shield and let the cold fire wash over him but he is connected to another power that has begun to grow. He can feel King Bodon’s power growing within him.

“Can you feel me in you?” asks a raspy voice that echoes through the corridors of River’s pain wracked mind. “You know who I am, my child. Say the word, and I will be there with you.” The voice is filled with temptations and promises; no promises are made, no temptations are offered, but there is a sensation that fills River, dulling his agony. He feels cool water being poured down his throat, drizzling on his brow. There is an implication in the voice of King Bodon that if River lets him through to this world that he will be rewarded.

Mr. Kane is a stern man dressed in close fitting leather clothing, a wide brimmed hat casting a shadow over his aged, pallid face. A sawed-off shotgun is holstered at his hip like a sword; a silver revolver hangs on his opposite hip. Heaped in a corner, his coat made of werewolf pelts lies in a grim heap. He has been examining Lana’s wounds and had confirmed that they were not made by a werewolf. Lana’s eyes open and focus on the delicate silver cross that hangs from the werewolf hunter’s neck.

She tries to shift in the bed, but every movement causes a bolt of pain to tear through her body.
“I should kill you now, before you do anymore harm.” says Mr. Kane, his hand resting on his revolver. “It took a while, and some things still need to be sorted out, but it’s clear that you are at the bottom of all of this. Right now, the doctors don’t know that you are going to live. So, if you don’t tell me what I want to know, you won’t see another night.”

Lana’s face becomes fixed with a look of defiance as she silently protests. Mr. Kane’s thumb seeks out a stitched wound, and he presses roughly against the wound. Lana writhes, biting her lip to keep from screaming. Mr. Kane remains expressionless; he was trained by the Inquisition, and they taught him that bodily pain was only an illusion and that it was not to be grimaced at or enjoyed. It was a tool, and he applied it as discreetly as a sculptor applies a chisel.

“Tell me what you know about King Bodon. Tell me why you were trying to call him.” demands Mr. Kane.

“He promised to change me.” says Lana weakly. “I just wanted to be able to be normal; those bitches deserved what they got. They say that God made man in His own image. If so, then I am an abomination, unfit for His Grace, and those women were spitting in God’s eyes. So I turned to another god, one that could fulfill my desires.

“He will empower me, and He will make you pay for what you are doing.” threatens Lana. Mr. Kane’s grip on his silver revolver tightens, be he doesn’t have a chance to loose it from its holster. August barges in, holding an amulet emblazoned with the image of a long dead god.

“Where is he?” asks August, heedless of the surly man. Lana’s eyes turn to August, but before she can speak, Mr. Kane presses his finger into the wound on her leg and she screams.

“I’m sorry my boy, but she is in no condition to talk.” says Mr. Kane. August is tired, and doesn’t have his full faculties. He doesn’t notice Mr. Kane’s subtle torture. “If she calms down, I’ll have the nurse go get you.” Believing that Mr. Kane is an honorable and just man, August heeds his words. He seeks a waiting area and sits. He feels sleep roll over him like thunderclouds across a plain. His head nods a few times, and then his slips away into sleep, unable to fight against fatigue any longer.

August and Minerva, Investigators of the Supernatural: The Otherkin (Part Ten)

Kristabel sits patiently on a hard bench in the hospital’s waiting room. The bench is as hard as a rock, because, unbeknownst to her, it is actually a rock. Lana has sent this young girl to River, who is a magician that specializes in conjuration, but also knows how to craft illusions fairly well. The room where Kristabel sits is actually a cave; an old oaken table stands solidly in the center of the room. On it, an intricate symbol has been rendered using the blood of Zeeb, Detective Green, and a dozen rats. River provided the rat blood, but Lana provided the blood that would truly fuel River’s ritual. He will call King Bodon to this side of reality, and he will set the powerful demigod free.
“So, what do you want to become?” River asks Kristabel, who sees him now as a nurse rather than a hermit. If she saw his grimy countenance, she would not trust him as she trusts the beautiful nurse that stands before her; in fact, she’d likely run from him.

“I’ve been giving it a lot of thought; I’ve actually been considering it for over a year. I would like to have the appearance of a Tiger.” replies Kristabel with a gleeful glimmer in her eyes. River knows what to expect next, and wishes that he could just tell her to shut-up; he has observed that they all have the same routine and truly does not want to hear it again.

“Aside from being my sign in the Chinese zodiac, I have always felt like a tiger, you know? Like there’s a proud predator inside me, just waiting to get out.” Kristabel crosses her legs, mindful of her short skirt. River believes that she is getting comfortable, and that she wants to tell him more. He imagines her telling him of her harrowing life as an outsider that has felt like they were born in the wrong body. River finds the concept vulgar; he believes that humans weren’t meant to correct what they believed were God’s mistakes.

Now, after hearing saying those words, River feels guiltless for what he is about to do. According to his metaphysical outlook, he would now simply carry out the punishment that this girl deserves for wishing to be something she was not meant to be. As the nurse, he smiles and nods, listening attentively with a comforting smile. The illusion is powerful enough to fool Kristabel, but River has not invested the strength into it that would allow an additional person to be fooled by his illusion. It breaks when a snarling werewolf barrels down on him, pinning him to the ground.

River curses himself for letting his thoughts stray away from his task on hand. He grasps the growling man-beast by its head and closes his eyes. A resonating chant causes Tobias’ skull to reverberate; his vision blurs as sound waves rattle his brain. Kristabel screeches loudly when the illusion of a sanitary hospital melts away, revealing a dank cave filled with murderous tools. She stumbles to her feet; the ground rocks beneath her, the natural reaction of a human mind to the abuse heaped on it. Bile creeps into her throat as she stumbles into Minerva’s waiting arms.

River’s concentration and focus are unbreakable; his knowledge had passed through countless ages and cultures. River can feel the proud eyes of his spiritual ancestors on him as Tobias’ warm blood begins to spill. Warm, red, and filled with vital energy, the blood courses down River’s arms and pools on the table beneath him. The conjurer’s physical strength cannot compare with the werewolf’s thick, corded muscles. River clenches his teeth and a gurgling sound emerges from between the gaps.

Tobias’ clawed hands are made to rend and destroy; he can feel the bones crunching within his hands. The wolf-spirit inside of him urges him on. It sees the unrelenting wall of River’s will and rages against it like a tornado. The recesses of Tobias’ mind are haunted by the innocents whose blood has spilled on the table. He can see their faces and hear their pleading voices. His mind burns, and his eyes will with red, murderous intent.

Two of River’s molars shatter under the intense stress. He can’t feel his arms anymore, and would see shards of bone jutting out from them if he dared take his eyes off of the werewolf. Launching a red-streaked blob of spit into Tobias’s eyes, River says the words that pass through the layers of space and time.

“Ai! Ai, na-hil. Fah-shal, shal-bal, F’rahl Bodon” shouts River “Shut this bastard down!” Tobias rears back, slapping away the conjuror’s hands. Tobias reels backwards and feels his body shrink rapidly back to its human proportions. He can still feel the wolf-spirit in him as it is closed inside of a tiny, ephemeral cage. His body convulses with anger, his eyes lose their focus.

“What the hell did you do?!” explodes Tobias, balling his hands into fists.

“Don’t screw with me, buddy.” says River, his eyes beginning to smolder with balefire. “On second thought, try me. I could use a few more bodies to keep this connection running.”

“What’s going on?” asks Kristabel in a frightened tone. “This is supposed to be a hospital.”

“I’m afraid that you’ve been misled. This is the lair of a conjuror; he has opened a portal to another world and is feeding off of the power of an entity on the other side.” responds Minerva, feeling a ball of force filling her hand.

“What do we do?!”

“You leave and don’t come back. Maybe you should also learn to appreciate what you all ready have.” says Minerva, leaving the girl outside of the cave. Like a soldier marching to the slaughter, Minerva doesn’t look back. She had made a vow, but sometimes vows lose their strength. Each step she took brought her through her life.

“You need to do what you were put on this Earth to do. If you are a witch, there’s no escaping it. Even if you never use your talent, it will pace within you like a tiger itching to be free.” said Minerva’s mother on Minerva’s first day at school. “We weren’t put here to hide our gifts.”

“Fire, ice, earth, air, and the soul; these are the powers that rule the world. Control over them is a responsibility not to be taken lightly.” instructed Adrian when Minerva was thirteen. “You are most powerful when you use your power with a light touch; those works will survive the longest and do the greatest good. However, sometimes you need to just let go.”

“Call Him!” yelled Father Tolland ten years ago. “Bring His servants to this world! You are duty bound. What you do today, you will remember always; it is the most important act of your life.”

“I promise. Never again.” she said ten years ago.

August and Minerva, Investigators of the Supernatural: The Otherkin (Part Nine)

Tobias collapses nearly five miles outside of the city after he places Minerva on the soft sand. A great dust rises as his hulking form crashes into the sand. As he begins the slow transformation back to a man, he focuses on the waves that lap against the shore in order to push himself beyond the pain. Minerva sits by him, stroking the fur as it slowly draws back into his skin. A flattened bullet tumbles from his shrinking body, leaving behind a tiny, circular scar. In the soft morning light, he looks pale; Minerva worries that he has pushed himself too far, and his dignified silence does nothing to dissuade her fears.

After a few minutes pass, he assures her that he is fine. His eyes, still the eyes of a wolf, hide his pain expertly, but his labored breathing bothers Minerva.

“I said I’ll be fine. A few bullets are not gonna do anything worse than Sebottendorff did. I’ll bounce back. I always do.” he says, his voice still guttural and animalistic.

“You didn’t need to do this by yourself. You really should have…” Minerva pauses, not wanting to feel like a nagging wife. “We’ve been working diligently on this case, and it should have been handled as lawfully as possible.”

“It was taking too long. Min, I could feel the pain of those kids. All they wanted was to be something special, and Lana took advantage; she didn’t think, and she got them killed. No law is worth keeping if she got to do it again and again as we hoped to find the invisible threads that connected her to the murders.” fully changed into the form of a man, Tobias looks fragile and small in contrast to his other, less human form.

“We have to abide by the laws; it’s not like Lana is an unregistered vampire with no rights. Even if she is guilty, you are going to have to be held accountable for what you’ve done.” says Minerva, trying not to chastise her husband too harshly.

“But it wasn’t me.” says Tobias defensively. He tightens the belt on his baggy pants; a life time of shape shifting taught him to dress in loose fitting clothes. His other self was much larger. Tobias stands and walks to the shoreline and pensively watches the water recede. “I got there around dawn, when they were closing. It took some convincing for the bouncer to let me in; they were all ready flipping chairs and clearing the place out. I saw Lana talking to a girl about Bodon. She referred to him as a great surgeon, someone able to change an Otherkin into a true Anthropo. I interrupted her pitch, and Lana got snippy.

“She told me ‘I just wanted to help her get the life she wants.’ and I did my best not to lose it then and there.” Tobias pauses and sighs softly. “Trying to keep my composure, I turned my back for a second. I heard a thud and turned to see Lana was no longer standing. Someone blindsided her; the attacker wasn’t much more than a blur. They rolled across the floor, a streak of blood trailing them. I went to pull the two apart and saw that the attacker was a cat girl.”

“Did she have white and orange fur, with short black hair?” asks Minerva, concluding that it must have been Emma.

“Yeah, she did.” responds Tobias, “Do you know her?”

“We only met briefly. She helped get Malcolm into The Haven on the night that Zeeb was murdered. I wonder if she saw something?” ponders Minerva as she half-heartedly tosses a rock into the surf.

“She must have, because she was furious. I got a hold of her, but she squirmed free easily. She was right back on top of Lana, her sharp claws tearing through Lana, leaving her looking like she went through a thresher. It stopped as swiftly as it started. I didn’t know that the police were outside; I had picked up Lana with the intent of getting her to the hospital as quickly as possible. The rest you’ve seen.”

“What happened to the girl that Lana was talking to?” asks Minerva.

“I lost her during the cat-girl’s attack. I got her scent though.” says Tobias proudly.

“Do you think you can track her? She might know something that’ll help.”

“I can. The only thing that’ll make it really tough is keeping away from the police. I’m sure they’re looking for me all ready. My guess it that they have me pegged for the assault on Lana; I should be able to clear my name, but that will take time we don’t have right now.” Tobias cups his hands and lets the sea water fill them. He wets his face, hair and chest. He hopes that the police dogs can’t track as well as he can. He also hopes that the police don’t contact a werewolf hunter.

***

Her classmates called her Fattie, but her parents called her Bettie. Through Middle School and High School, she followed the winds of fashion. In tenth grade, she dressed like a pin-up model, and in her Senior year she shaved half of her hair and dyed the rest green after getting her tongue pierced. It was all part of her path to finding who she truly was. In college, she fell for an Otherkin and embraced the lifestyle. Now, five years later, she is called Kristabel, and she is wandering through the streets on the far end of the city.

As she wound her way through the urban maze, she was astounded that she had never seen this part of the city: tall, official looking buildings tower above her, and men dressed in business suits pass her by. She feels out of place wearing a skirt that falls above her knee and a shirt cut to expose her cleavage.

She doesn’t know that she’s in an illusion, and that the urban sprawl about her is actually a small strip of protected wilderness. River watches her from afar, his eyes squinting and his mouth bent into a scowl. He presumes that she was sent by Lana, and that she is to be altered by King Bodon’s power. Lana had delivered several clay jugs to River since their last meeting, each filled with blood for drawing the circle to summon King Bodon.

River watches Kristabel wander for an hour before he assumes his role in the illusion: he will pose as a kind stranger, then a nurse, and then a surgeon. The illusion will be enough to disguise him for all three roles. By nightfall, she is at the entry to River’s cave, which seems to be an elegant downtown hospital to her glamoured eyes.

August and Minerva, Investigators of the Supernatural: The Otherkin (Part Seven)

Tobias gazes out the window, looking at the streets below. Rain glazes the road with shimmering puddles that explode as cars glide through them. He grinds his teeth together as he thinks about the murderer that is targeting people that were not born like him. When he was a child in Canada, his birthright was a death sentence. He would hear the little memeres whisper hushed warning to each other as he would pass.

“He’s a Loup-Garou.” one said, pointed a wrinkled finger his way.

“No, no. He’s worse! He’s been sentenced for his whole life.” said another. Looking at the rain, he remembers the day a boy pinned him to the ground, cutting him deep enough to draw blood. The boy meant to cure Tobias, but instead he became a victim of the beast that lives inside of Tobias. At age twelve, Tobias began to run, afraid that he would be punished for the boy’s murder. More than a decade later, he remembers the murder and knows that it will haunt him to the grave.

He had decided to let August go to the morgue with Malcolm, as he wants nothing to do with the spell they will work; while he welcomes the quiet, it draws out the ghosts that stir in his shadow. He considers Minerva, his wife; by now she’s asleep, sound and warm in their bed. Meanwhile, he lingers at the office, a small television broadcasting muted news. While not inclined towards holiness, Tobias says a brief prayer to Saint Ailbhe, praying for his intercession.

“Watch over the animal-children, and watch over the Otherkin. Bless them, and keep them, and guide them away from peril.” he says, quietly, under his breath, and feeling embarrassed. His eyes wander to the television and he sees the face of Detective Green. He sees the newswoman’s thin pink lips mouthing the word murdered. The bones of Tobias’ feet shift, the animal inside him stirs. He paces, wondering what he should do.

The sun rises, shedding diffused light on a dreary city. Tobias leaves the office, locking the door behind him. He’s heading towards The Haven; if he were just a man, it would take him two and a half hours to walk there. However, the beast inside him blesses him with speed. He will be there in less than an hour.

***********

Malcolm is trying not to look at the body. It is too nightmarish to look at the woman he spoke with only hours prior laid out on a stainless steel table. Instead, he watches the mortician wince.

“Are you sure you need to do this? This, this isn’t really going to do anything, is it?” asks the mortician disbelievingly. He wrings his hands and his eyes dart about the room. He watches as August completes an intricate design on the cold skin of the woman once called Zeeb. “I mean, all of this is just ceremony, right? Like you get her memories or something? I saw a program on the History Channel about this kind of thing.”

“No. Actually, she’ll tell us what happened. It just requires breath now.” says August, feeling slight apprehension. “I learned this from a miracle worker that apprenticed under Skuld herself, so this is both old and powerful. And not my specialty at all.” he says, forcing a smile. “This usually calls for a bellows, but since my skills aren’t that strong, I need to actually use living breath, at least that’s what Max said on the phone.” Taking up a cotton ball soaked in alcohol, he dabs the corpse’s lips.

“I sure hope he wasn’t just pulling my leg.” says August before putting his lips to those of the corpse. He feels repulsed at the touch of the cold flesh; he tells himself that it is not a kiss, and that if anything, it is like CPR. The mortician watches in morbid fascination while Malcolm feels bile creeping up his throat. Breathing into the corpse’s mouth, August feels a slight tug that pulls along his esophagus. Pulling away, he feels cold, and the body looks warmer, its belly distended with breath.

The first sound she emits is a scream that never escaped her lips while she was alive. The mortician hit’s the floor with a thud as the corpse screams again and again. Zeeb, now partially alive, realizes that she can’t see.

“Where am I? What’s going on?” she asks, only her lips moving.

“You are in a hospital,” says August, not lying, but obscuring the truth. “We need to know what happened.” Malcolm wants to disapprove, but he knows there is no better way.

“I was talking with a bunch of people, then I felt a sharp sting in my back. I could hear a whispering voice, and I saw a face; it wasn’t human, and it wasn’t an Otherkin. It was an Anthropo, a real animal-person. I could tell by the eyes. They were cold and reptilian, and the lids closed vertically. No one can do that with surgery.”

“What was the voice saying?” asks August, aware that time is running low.

“It was a woman, and she was saying gibberish. The only one I’d heard before was Bodon.” said Zeeb quietly, running out of breath.

“Who is Bodon?” asks August.

“He’s a surgeon. He makes the dreams of any Otherkin come true. He’s so good that you almost can’t tell an Otherkin from a real Anthropo.” she responds. “Will I be okay?” she asks, “I feel funny.”

“You’ll be fine.” assures August, unable or unwilling to tell Zeeb the truth. “The best doctors will take care of you, and we’ll catch whoever did this. Do you know who did this?”

“It was Lana, I’m sure. Are you sure I’m going to be okay?” she asks, “I can’t see, and I can’t feel my body. Oh my God! Am I blind and paralyzed?”

August doesn’t answer; tears run down his face. He leaves the morgue, Malcolm following closely. From afar, they can hear her tearless wailing.

“You’re gonna leave her like that?” asks Malcolm disapprovingly.

“She’ll be gone in a minute, maybe less.” replies August, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“You really shouldn’t have done that.” says Malcolm.

“I know.” replies August. The pair walk out into the gloomy morning in silence. August tries to justify what he’s done, while Malcolm looks stoically ahead. Despite the horrible pit in his stomach, August feels good for the first time in a week. He knows that Lana is working for Bodon, and by knowing his enemy, he knows that justice is only a call away. He dials Detective Green’s number, but he doesn’t pick up.

August leaves a message, saying that Lana needs to be brought in as soon as possible. He doesn’t know that Detective Green is dead. He also doesn’t know that Lana has the detective’s cell phone, and that she smiles when she listens to August’s message.

August and Minerva, Investigators of the Supernatural: The Otherkin (Part Five)

Malcolm feels hot and the sweat is dripping down his face. He wonders why he let August talk him into wearing a bear suit. He thinks of how absurd he must look while he stands in line outside of The Haven. All around him, young girls are wearing short dresses and animal ears; they giggle and snicker as they gather in small circles.

I’m too old for this, he thinks, I could be the father of some of these girls. Granted, some are cute, but way too young. He folds his arms defensively as he takes a few steps forward. I shouldn’t have let him talk me into the whole fur suit. I should have talked him down to just some ears or something. It is just too damn hot tonight. A woman tattooed with zebra stripes walks into his view. He looks him up and down; she has black and white striped hair, icy blue eyes, and wears a bikini with knee high boots. Okay… here we go, thinks Malcolm, trying to act cool while wearing a bear suit.

“Hey there, Mr. Bear.” she says with a smile laced with sensuality and rimmed with glossy black lips. “You are a newbie here. Want me to help show you around?” Her striped hand runs down Malcolm’s fake fur chest.

“Hey Bruce!” calls Jacob with Emma following close behind. The tattooed zebra girl looks at the pair and flips her hair. Malcolm, not used to working undercover, responds slowly to his pseudonym.

“Hi guys.” he says, hoping that he sounds more Bruce-like and less like a guy called Malcolm whose skin is crawling under an inch of faux fur. “Good to see you. Are we going right in?”

“Since when do you two buddy-up with Otherkin? I thought you were beyond hanging out with humans.” the tattooed zebra girl remarks snidely. She steps towards Jacob, but stares daggers at Emma.

“Back off, Zeeb.” says Emma in a serious monotone, the hair of her tail starting to stand on end.

“The Old Pig said he saw you talking with the investigators. Are you narcing on us? Is this one of them?” Zeeb slides her hands to her hips and looks at Malcolm. “Which one could it be? Looks manly and sounds manly to me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Malcolm, “I don’t know who you think I am, but I know I’m no investigator. I just wanted to have some fun, and my sister suggested that I come here. She arranged for me to meet with Jacob and Emma.” Malcolm is surprised how easily the lies were flowing. The heat makes him feel agitated, and he uses that annoyance as an acting device. He never knew that the two semesters of acting he took would ever come in handy.

“Zeeb, Emma, Bruce, can we leave this at the curb. We’re all here just to have some fun and unwind. We don’t need to start anything.” interjects Jacob, placing a calming, feathered hand on Emma’s shoulder.

“You think you’re getting in after talking to that Minerva woman? Lana said to stay away and shut up about everything. She said, ’don’t even give them the time of day’, and there you are sitting and having tea.” snaps Zeeb, thrusting a finger at Jacob.

“Zeeb, do you believe every pig-faced homeless man you talk to? The poor bastard has no idea what he’s talking about. He can’t even read a paper without panicking about genocide.” says Jacob in a quiet, measured voice. Feeling Emma’s continued consternation, he begins to lightly stroke her hair and scratch her ear.

Malcolm, not knowing that Emma and Zeeb have a long history of animosity, is confused about Emma’s aggressive stance. Watching Emma’s thrashing tail, Malcolm nervously steps a foot to the side, worried that she will pounce at any moment. As he scans the crowd, Malcolm spots a large, apish man wearing a suit wading through the crowd. He is Bruno, the club’s bouncer. The commotion has attracted his attention, and his red-rimmed eyes boil with intolerance.

“What’s all this then?” he asks in a bass voice with an English accent. Menacingly, he cracks his thick knuckles and adjusts his cuff links.

“What’s with the monkey suit, Bruno?” jokes Jacob. Dully, Bruno stares at Jacob for a moment before a smile breaks his stoic and intense expression.

“Oh, it’s you buddy!” says Bruno excitedly, “I love that joke. It’s very, uh, very.”

“Thanks Bruno.” responds Jacob, glad that he’s built up such a good rapport with Bruno over the years. While most would dismiss Bruno as a dullard, Jacob always treated him as an equal, going as far as to encourage Bruno to attend junior college. Zeeb glares at Bruno, practically stamping her feet with rage.

“Sorry, but Lana’s at the door, so if you could, you know, be a little more quiet. You know, not so vos… uh… vo-ci-fo?” Bruno winces, trying to think of the right word.

“Vociferous?” offered Malcolm, clapping his hands over his mouth. I put my foot in it now he thinks. Yet, contrary to what Malcolm thinks, Bruno is glad to have the assistance.

“Yeah! That’s the word. Vociferous.” says Bruno with a grin that showed a mouthful of thick, blunt teeth book-ended by sharp canine teeth. “Come on, I like you guys. Let’s get you inside, okay?”

“But they were talking with the investigators! We’re not supposed to!” appeals Zeeb, frustrated.

“You might as well go home then.” says Bruno, “Because I’m not letting you in.”

“What did you say?” asks Zeeb indignantly.

“Are you deaf?” responds Emma, her words like a whip. Wrapping her arm around Jacob’s, she contemplates sticking her tongue out at Zeeb, but ultimately decides that it would be too childish.

“Well, that went better than I expected.” remarks Malcolm as he, Jacob, and Emma trail behind Bruno, who pushes through the crowd like an icebreaker.

“Yeah, but now we’re going to be watched much more intently.” responds Jacob quietly. “Lana will know that we’re here, and thanks to Zeeb, she’ll suspect that something’s up.”

From afar, Zeeb watches Bruno lead Jacob and Emma into the club, along with their friend. She contemplates the unfairness of it all as she stalks away. She thinks I could go directly to Lana. She’ll believe me. She’s not stuck up like the other Anthropoes. She cares about the Otherkin… Lost in thought, she doesn’t notice the figure of a man that flits from shadow to shadow behind her. She doesn’t notice him, and worse, she doesn’t notice the cruel, rusty knife in his hand.

Thing-A-Week 8: August and Minerva, Investigators of the Supernatural: The Otherkin (Part Four)

Deep in the forest, far from the lights of the civilized world, Lana creeps towards the mouth of a cave. The stones that litter the ground are marked with strange sigils; they ward off trespassers, but Lana has no worries: she is welcome here. She walks into the cave where her preternatural sight serves her well. The world of the cave, black to any other visitor, is alive with color to Lana. She scans the area, looking for the hermit called River. She looks upon his trappings; wilted flowers and drying herbs are scattered on the floor and hung from the ceilings, a table stained with blood and wine, and a mattress stuffed with leaves that crunch as the hermit turns to awaken.

“You failed, River, and I can’t have that.” she hisses, her serpentine features sharp and emotionless. She picks up a clay vessel from the table and sniffs it casually. It stinks of urine and blood.

“I said that the procedure was questionable, that it might fail, that she might die, but you insisted. You said that Bodon could send his power across the gulfs of the abyss, you said that he wouldn’t need to be summoned here.” He replies in a raspy voice. Draped in rotting animal skins and wearing a flannel night shirt, River stumbles to his feet, unable to gain his balance in a world that rocks like a boat. He puts a hand to his head, trying to keep his brain from floating away.

“He can. He is strong, It is your magic that is weak. With such meager tools, can you really expect to do his work?” Lana states as she paces impatiently, lecturing River on his faults and musing about his responsibility in the failure perpetrated a week ago. Lana had brought Francine Keene to the cave, allowed her to make her dreams come true. River had opened a gate, allowing King Bodon’s power to change Francine, but the power eventually failed, and Lana concluded that River was at fault. She glares at him disdainfully while he grabs an ancient glass decanter and relieves himself in it.

“I work with what I have. The gods, demons, angels, and spirits don’t care about the presentation, they only care about the opportunity. They’ll take any chance to influence our world.” Snorting and pulling phlegm up from his lungs, River spits a yellowy globule of phlegm into the green glass decanter.

“Are all of these things necessary? It all seems so theatrical and excessive; the lifestyle, the stench: it‘s like practicing Catholicism when Protestantism would do well enough.” A furtive smile passes her lips, ending as a smirk that nearly reveals a row of sharply pointed teeth. She stands contropasto, pushing the ropey tendrils of golden hair from her face and staring at River critically, wondering if he really is the best choice for the task at hand.

Moodily, feeling like Icarus after crashing to the earth, River strokes his tangled, bushy beard. He sniffs the air and contemplates the smell, thinks that it isn’t all that bad, and shakes his head. “I choose my life, you choose yours. It’s too hard for me to fit in the human world.” A laugh rattles in he throat, causing him to expectorate a thick, mucous blob. “That’s funny, you know. I’m a human, and I have no place amongst them. You are part dragon and you are loved by them, trusted by them.” A gapped-toothed, sardonic grin hides behind his beard but can be read easily in his eyes. Lana fails to see his amusement.

Unsettled by Lana’s emotionless reptilian stare, River fusses with the button on his nightshirt. He watches her eyes intently, but the slit pupils and orange irises reveal nothing. River begins to sense a malevolence in her silence; a primal part of him sees her serpentine features in a sinister light, and he feels his heart pump more swiftly. Unconsciously, his muscles tense, preparing to spring away.

“So what do you want? Just to tell me that F’rahl Bodon’s power has failed?” asks River, his eyes casually searching for a bone handled knife that he’s certain he had left on the table the night before last.

“Don’t use that name. You will call him King.” responds Lana coldly and with conviction. “Only those that worship him may call him by that name.” She sees the tension in River’s posture, draws an imaginary line from his eyes to the knife on the table. Understanding River’s apprehension and discomfort, she withdraws physically, not desiring a physical conflict. Her delicate hands slide along the curves of her hips as she exposes her palms, saying “I’m sorry for my zeal, but you must understand my position and feelings. I know of King Bodon’s power, and it can be a terrible thing. I know of its strength, and I believed that it could be trusted.

“He has never failed me, and in the fire of the moment, I threw an undue accusation. It is possible that it is your fault, but there are other explanations. However, you must understand, I have many more people interested in undergoing the procedure, and I have much depending on this being reliable. Do you understand?”

River listens to Lana and is slowly seduced by her words. Lana tells him how much she needs his help, and soon, after feeling her cool hand on his face, River is anxious to help her. He no longer feels wary of her, instead he craves her attention, unaware of the subtle manipulation she perpetrates. They stand at the cave’s entrance, a cool, night breeze chasing through the trees. Each knows how near they are to the city, yet it feels as though they are the only people in the world as they speak in the darkness.

“I need you to call him over. His strength is too diluted when it is pulled through a tiny hole. We need him here.” Says Lana. River feels himself saying “yes”, though he doesn’t remember saying it after Lana leaves. Instead, he only feels the precipitous decision weigh cripplingly on his shoulders. He ponders the steps he must take now that he has given his word; he ponders the lives he must take so that his promise could be fulfilled.

August and Minerva, Investigators of the Supernatural: The Otherkin (Part Three)(Thing-A-Week 5)

The tea bar had seen many better days. The copper counters were dull, bearing smudges and finger prints, and all the stools wobbled. Sitting in a booth in the centre of the establishment, Minerva sipped from a cup of steaming hot tea. The faint berry flavour was pleasing; across from her, a man with the black, feathery face of a crow fidgeted with his tie, occasionally dipping his beak into a mug of honey-laden chai.

“I’m sorry that I frightened you. I assure you that neither Emma nor I meant you any harm at all.” Jacob’s voice was soft and sweet, and his eyes were small, black orbs filled with a predatory air. Emma, whose triangular ears twitched on top of her head, listened to the conversation from afar while waiting for her iced tea. Dressed in Bohemian chic, she shot a disdainful glare at Minerva, eyeing her more conservative ensemble. Minerva dressed in colorful cotton, her clothes hiding much of her figure. Emma was wearing short, silky breeches that exposed her long, muscular legs. Her shirt clung to her torso, and a wide array of beaded necklaces hung from her neck.

“We heard that some humans were looking for information about the murder at the Haven, and when we heard that the humans were August and Minerva, we decided that we should come forward. We heard about what you did for Tobias, and felt that you could be trusted.” said Jacob. Minerva listened carefully to his words, watching his aura for any trace of untruth. “Then, we saw you talking with Piggy, and we knew we’d have to come forward. He’s one of her creatures, through and through.”

“And a disgusting creature at that.” remarked Emma with a twitch of her tail. “A beggar and a thief, and if you get close enough, and feel bad enough, he’s got a knife for your belly. More human than animal, if you ask me.”

“You must forgive Emma. She cannot understand the terrible cross that Piggy bears.” said Jacob, soliciting a sideways glance from the cat-girl. “He needs to cooperate with Lana, or else she’ll set her goons on him. She’s done it before.”

 

“I know, he was telling me as much. But how do you know that he won’t tell Lana that you spoke with me?” asked Minerva bluntly. Jacob ran his fingers through the feathers and hair that was on top of his head.

“He thinks we’re with Lana. He thinks that we’re following you, and that we’re threatening you right now.” stated Jacob.

“That Elf, she wasn’t always an Elf. She used to be an Otherkin, a pretend were-panda.” said Emma, rolling her eyes. “She went to meet with someone, and on the next night, she wasn’t her old, mundane self anymore. Her appearance changed, but her scent was the same. She was fine for a week, and then she collapsed.”

“And the rest, you know.” finished Jacob, slurping his chai loudly in an attempt to drink it all. As if to punctuate his sentence, the heavy glass door flew open. August, dressed in a black three-piece suit and tie, stood next to Tobias, who was wearing a baggy hunter green hoodie. Jacob looked up at the pair, seemingly unimpressed.

“This is the rest of your team then?” asked Jacob in a venomously sarcastic tone. “Rage and brutality, that’s what those two are. I heard about what happened at the hospital; your adventures have caught many eyes.” Tobias and August exchanged puzzled glances, not knowing how to react.

“We just do the best we can,” assured Minerva, “and sometimes things get out of hand.” She was trying her best to change the mood to something more amicable, but Jacob wasn’t helpful.

“Out of hand? Like the vampire that slipped through your fingers?” Jacob sniped, standing face to face with August. Tobias restrained himself, but Emma could see the sharp, werewolf’s claws growing from his fingertips, which prompted her to put a hand on Jacob’s shoulder.

“Sometimes, these things cannot be helped.” said Emma, studying both Tobias and August. Each was on edge, and were not in a jovial mood, so she simply smiled apologetically and guided Jacob out the door.

“Who were they?” asked August, visibly irritated.

“Informants, seemingly with good information.” replied Minerva.

“Not very friendly.” said Tobias gruffly. “At least the beak-face wasn’t. So, what did you find out?”

“I found out quite a lot. Apparently, our Elf was not always an Elf.” announced Minerva quietly.

“I knew it!” exclaimed Tobias. If there had been any other customers in the tea bar, they’d have turned their heads and then complained about his outburst. “I was just telling August that I thought the Otherkin were looking for a way to actually become something more than human.” Tobias sat down, leaned back, and glowed with pride.

“We saw King Bodon’s star imprinted on the Elf’s heart, which seemed like conclusive proof of his involvement.” explained August, who folded his arms and began to pace.

“I also noticed something that you mustn’t have seen in the darkness of the club at night. It was a symbol; I don’t know what it was drawn in, but it was barely visible. From what I could tell, it was a magic circle, intended to entrap a soul.” said Minerva. “It looks like King Bodon might have been giving out favours, and then collecting his debts through Lana, or at least through The Haven. I really don’t know what to think of her.”

“Did your two informants tell you how the human became an Elf?” asked Tobias, hoping to hear Minerva respond with she went to King Bodon, and yes Tobias, you were right.“Unfortunately no.” responded Minerva. Tobias shrank in his seat, feeling deflated.

“All the pieces are there, and they all fit.” said Tobias, absent mindedly rubbing his finger in a circle on the table top. “But what’s missing?”

“How they meet King Bodon. Is he coming to them, or is he being called on? If he’s being called on, how long is it before his conjurer cannot contain him?” mused August out loud.

“I think we need someone to go undercover and find out more. If it is a conjurer, then we’ll need to find out where, when, who, and how. The only way we’ll get all of that is if someone can gain the trust of one of the people at The Haven.” said Minerva.

“You could try talking to your informants again.” suggested August.

“Yeah, but I’m worried. It seems like they’re sticking their necks out awfully far.” she responded. “We need someone that they don’t know, and would not expect to be linked to us, or our investigation.”

 

 

August and Minerva, Investigators of the Supernatural: Otherkin (Part Two)

Here is another part of the latest August and Minerva story arc. I intended to complete this earlier in the week, but I found myself having trouble. I started out wanting to do a mystery story, and as such the story developed accordingly. Yet, as I was working on it, I found that I didn’t like excluding the “evil-doer’s” side. I found that, generally, I enjoy getting into the villian’s mind. I like showing how depraved he/she is, and I like developing his/her character. 

In this approach, I’m trying to lead up to a big reveal. As such, I’ve found that the story is much bigger than I ever anticipated. So, here’s part 2…

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***

Tobias and August arrived at the City Morgue early the next evening. Despite Minerva’s protests, Tobias decided he would join the investigation. A part of him felt that the murder was an affront to his community; any violence perpetrated near were-folk was easily blamed on were-folk. Speaking with the coroner, they discovered that her heart was the most damaged organ.

“It seemed like a single, strong thrust to her chest is what did it. From the fractures in her sternum, I’d say the attacker had an immense amount of power behind the strike. As far as strange damage, there is a burn on the heart.” announced the coroner, producing the small organ on a stainless steel dish. Looking at the light pink tissue, both August and Tobias saw a many-pointed star. It was the Star of Bodon, the symbol of King Bodon, a powerful devil. The two grimaced at each other, and each began to think of their next course of action.

“Tobias, I would like it if you accompanied Minerva to question Lana. In the meantime, have someone else to question. Tobias watched as August left. The coroner looked at Tobias, a puzzled look on his face.

“What’s going on?” asked the coroner shyly.

“It’s just a potential end of world crisis. No worries; we’ve dealt with this kind of stuff before.” said Tobias reassuringly.

***

Tobias and August rode along in an uncomfortable silence. The car rolled along, happily oblivious of anything the matter. For a moment, August found himself envious of the utter lack of concern that inanimate things had. Of course, that brought him back to thinking about the body of the Elf.

“I don’t like King Bodon’s involvement in this one bit.” announced August. He felt like he had to say something to break the silence; Tobias had been brooding since they left the morgue. “I’m still stumped as to why an Elf would be around here.”

“You didn’t like Lana’s answer much either, huh?” said Tobias grumpily. “That dragon-lady is hiding something, and its big. If King Bodon is really involved, then this is really big. So far, his involvement in this is textbook. The victim is a woman, and unless I miss my guess, so is the perpetrator.”

“Could Lana actually be that deeply involved?” asked August.

“Like a knife in a murder.” quipped Tobias. “She might not even know that she’s being used, then again, she might.” Tobias’ voice was marred with aggravation. “Her kind are revolting. Back in the day, The Haven was a place where us were-folk would hide from prying eyes. It was the only place where we could be safe from the Esoteric Order’s witch hunters.

“Nightly, they’d comb the streets, looking for anyone that was strong enough to defy their rule. A tightly knit group like ours was a threat to their grasp on society. Now, it’s a lifestyle choice. People like Lana market themselves as something special, and kids just eat it up. Next thing you know, they’re buying cat ears, then fur suits, and ultimately getting surgery. They’d give their souls to be something more than human.” Tobias’ eyes lit up with the shine of revelation.

“That might just be it. What if the Otherkin are taking an even more drastic step; making deals with King Bodon. He gets their eternal servitude, they get to become more than human.” raved Tobias. His excitement over his theory lifted the gloomy shroud off of his emotions. “But we need more proof, and I bet that Lana has it.”

***

Walking into The Haven, Minerva was assaulted by the stench of bleach. Three workers had been cleaning the floor as thoroughly as possible. A lithe, reptilian woman was overseeing the process. Her arms were crossed and her stance was confrontational, as though her disgust could burn stains away. Watching her glimmering aura, Minerva could tell that the woman felt out of control, and that her posture was a reflection of her trying to regain it.

The woman’s orange eyes turned to Minerva, their pupils widening in the dark.

“Minerva Krieg, yes?” asked the woman. Minerva was astonished that Lana knew who she was, and presumed that she knew why Minerva had come. Lana’s aura settled, and Minerva immediately realized that this would be a difficult interview. Somehow, the dragon-lady had learned about Minerva’s skills. The two spoke at length, though it revealed nothing new to Minerva. Lana was evasive, which inclined Minerva to think that Lana was hiding something.

“If we are concluded, I have much work to do. This is where the Elf was found; the detective has all ready given us clearance to clean the floors, and if we‘re going to open tonight, we need to be rid of any traces of this heinous crime.” Lana announced, guiding Minerva away from the spot. Minerva felt that Lana had a fear about her. Minerva wondered: Could she be hiding something, or perhaps she is hiding from something?

“Do you have any leads yet? We’re all very eager to hear some news.” said Lana, opening the club‘s door and ushering Minerva out.

“We’re considering some things, but there’s nothing concrete yet.” Minerva said.

“Well, hopefully the person that did this will be caught soon.” said Lana, the intense expression on her narrow, angular face unchanging as she closed the door. Minerva walked out of the alleyway where The Haven was hidden. Although it was daylight, she walked cautiously; she felt like eyes were fixed on her until she stepped on the sidewalk and was back in the flowing river of humanity. Only when she was a block away from The Haven did Minerva allow herself to smile.

Lana had put up a strong front, but there was a single fact that she could not hide. Confident, Minerva flipped open her cell phone, intending to call August. Leaning against the cold, brick exterior of a tea bar, she waited for August to pick up. She knew that he loathed using a cell phone, but hoped that he would pick up. As the phone rang, she watched the crowd pass by like a confused army of ants. People of all sorts were out; shopping, eating, or going to see a movie, yet her glance was pulled towards a homeless man that crouched on the stoop of a store that had been closed for over two years.

The building might have been a home once, and the business that had resided there specialized in all things metaphysical. The former owner, a tall, lean red headed woman with a mask of constant anguish, had given up on the store. She was convinced that the gods abandoned her, and so she dumped the store and off she went.

“Hello Minnie. What did you find out?” asked August, a sense of urgency in his voice.

“I didn’t get much off of Lana, but the visit wasn’t fruitless. I found out something very interesting. Lana was-”

“Not here. Not now!” raved the homeless man; his eyes, small, cold, and grey, searched about crazily. Pointing a finger at Minerva, he repeated his warning, but more softly.

“What was that?” asked August.

“Someone on the street. Why don’t you and Tobias meet me by the tea bar and we’ll discuss everything.” Minerva’s manner was brief, and she closed the phone without saying good bye. She approached the homeless man as closely as she dared. His rags were dirty, and concealed his boney body. His face startled Minerva; on closer inspection, his face was not that of a man, but that of a pig.

“No one ever listens. Why did you?” he asked, his voice weak and sleepy sounding.

“I suppose its because I needed to. Why did you yell like that?” asked Minerva.

“His spies are everywhere today. He needs to keep an eye on you people. He knows that you know. They’d have grabbed the voice right out of your throat and used it as they liked. Across the street, one of his is hiding in the coffee shop. Others are under the city, writhing and crawling, and waiting. They need more sacrifices, and they’ll get them if you aren’t careful. Don’t go alone. He told everyone you were coming.”

The man’s small eyes had fire in them as he spoke zealously. Minerva glanced around, wondering if someone was actually watching her, or if the man was insane. For a moment, she considered how much confidence she could have in the man. Quickly searching his aura, she saw signs of despair mingled with a strain of paranoia. It was what she expected from a street person. He seemed mostly harmless, so she decided to heed his warning.

On a whim, she asked the man if he knew anything about The Haven.

“Yeah. I know the place.” he said, “When I was younger, I went there a lot. It was better than a mission, ’cause we could be around other people like us.” An uncomfortable, toothless grin bent his snout. “Uh, people like me, I mean.” he said apologetically. Minerva began to feel sympathetic for the man’s plight, but she remained fully on her guard.

“Well, when it started being a hang out spot for rich kids looking for a weird kick, I got scared. They didn’t care too much for the unfortunates; you know, the ones that aren’t something strong like a werewolf or sleek like one of the catfolk. They’d tolerate us for a while, but soon the ones that were pretending to be part animal outnumbered those that actually were. That’s when the game started.” with a quiver in his voice, he described how the youths would stalk their prey.

“They’d put collars and leashes on the ones pretending to be like dogs, or wolves. They’d track us by sight, pretending it was by smell. Then, when they came across a little cardboard hut or a relatively safe dumpster, they’d howl. That’s how you knew a beating would start. It would start and never stop until there were broken bones and blood.” He pulled back the sleeve of his coat, revealing his curving forearm; it had been broken, and never set properly.

Minerva’s heart sank, yet she would not allow the sorrowful emotions appear on her face. She became quite aware of the eyes that were on her, and began having the sensation that she was being surrounded. She glanced from side to side, and caught a glimpse of a crow faced man that was trying to seem inconspicuous behind a newspaper. Across the street, a small mob of girls wearing cat ears giggled in unison. One that walked behind the clowder wasn’t laughing; in fact she looked grim and brooding.

Minerva thanked the man with a forced smile and started away. She glanced behind her and saw that the crow faced man was following her. The grim cat girl jaywalked across the street, daintily dodging between cars. Minerva picked up her pace; the sidewalks were crawling with people, which made her feel safer, yet caution was still her priority. She wasn’t certain of how it happened, but in a moment, the crow faced man was next to her.

His black eyes belied a terrible seeming intelligence. Minerva was considering courses of action: Should I run? Should I yell? Should I fight? Should I go into a store? Her options whirred in her head, but before she could make a move, the crow faced man spoke in a soft voice.

“We aren’t here to hurt you. We know what you are trying to do, and we are with you.”

————————————————————————————————————————————————

Have you noticed what Minerva noticed?

~H

August and Minerva, Investigators of the Supernatural: Otherkin (Part One) (Thing-A-Week 2)

The atmosphere of Walter Vindaloo’s Bollywood was nothing short of overwhelming. The walls were covered in posters from old Bollywood movies, as well as memorabilia from said movies; ornate, golden molding slithered amongst the finery like a gaudy serpent. August, who had chosen the establishment for his date with Dr. Prabha Kholsa due to the advice of his friend Malcolm, was beginning to question the wisdom of his decision. Despite the reservations August was feeling, his date seemed extremely amused. Prabha’s wide, dark eyes glittered with excitement as she watched the wait staff perform their rendition of the opening of Gumnaam, complete with costumes and head-shaking.

August saw her wide smile and had a difficult time believing that she was the same woman that was always so serious when tending to her patients.

“Ah! I remember my mom trying to show me how to do that dance. Oh! The mess we made of the kitchen. She had been baking bread, and flour ended up everywhere. My dad was livid when he came home, but he found it funny after he got over the initial shock.” reminisced Prabha with a sweet voice flavored with nostalgia. She looked at August, seeing that he was entranced by her every word. “Thank you for taking me here; it is a lot of fun.”

“I was worried that you wouldn’t like it, but Malcolm said it was the best…” August paused. He wasn’t sure of what he should say; while he dealt with creatures of all sorts of species, he always tried to be racially sensitive. He had worried that taking an Indian woman to an Indian restaurant on a date would come off as presumptuous. Perhaps she would think that she only ate Indian food. Perhaps she would think that he thought that this was high culture for Indian people.

“Well, so far, it is certainly entertaining.” said Prabha, aware of August’s discomfort. She found his manner quite endearing. She studied his face, thinking that August looked youthful despite his strenuous job as an investigator of the supernatural. His dark, curly hair was in need of a trim, but looked stylish nonetheless. His pale skin reminded her of winter, his eyes brown as fertile soil. She became acutely aware that she was looking at August with the same entranced look that he had gazed at her with.

As the dance came to a close, a waiter in a white sports coat arrived with a platter filled with fragrant, spicy delights. The couple ate quietly, appreciative of the night off. August, looking deep in Prabha’s eyes, found himself thinking of the sliver of a goddess that lived inside of Prabha. The beauty of the goddess in her radiates out from her, he thought.

Prabha cared for victims of supernatural attacks, and as such, she and August had been seeing much of each other, due largely to a string of grisly vampire attacks that had recently been halted. August had not apprehended the vampire; Claude, a friend of his, had taken custody of the vampire and was hoping to rehabilitate him. In the wake of the vampire attacks, Prabha and August worked together to treat patients, applying mystical and scientific treatments to the victims. Having healed much of the damage the vampire had wrought, the pair found that they now had some free time.

“So, what will you do now that Sebottendorff is gone? Will you try to find him and Claude?” asked Prabha, poking at a mound of aromatic rice.

“I trust Claude; since there have been no further attacks, he must be doing something correctly. As far as what is next? Well, Minerva and I have been working as consultants for the police for a while now; between that and some smaller investigations about haunting, we’re keeping busy.” said August.

“How did Minerva and you partner up anyway?” inquired Prabha.

“Well, we met about ten years ago. We were on opposite sides of the battlefield then; she had been working with the Esoteric Order for nearly her entire life. They used her vast magical strength to break down barriers that were protecting our dimension. She had awoken a terrible thing.” August stopped talking, biting into a warm piece of naan and chewing it slowly. Prabha could see that there was much more to the story, but she also knew that she would need to be patient before he would tell her.

***

Minerva rubbed her tired eyes. She had been studying photographs that Karen, an archeologist friend of hers, had sent. The digital image was good quality, though there were several minute details. The picture was of a votive figure that was found within a ziggurat buried deep within a South American jungle. The figure was a vile looking thing, crafted from jade and stained with blood. On the small pedestal on which it crouched, tiny cuneiform writing spelled out the name of F’rahl Bodon. Other etchings spoke of promised rituals and sacrifices; Minerva was absorbed in her examination of the photograph. She could not help but draw some comparisons between this primitive worship of F’rahl Bodon with current cults devoted to C’thulhu and other Great Old Ones.

“Are you still obsessing over that thing?” asked Tobias, wearing blue and white striped pajamas. He was still ailing from the fight with Sebottendorff. “I thought we were supposed to be taking a break. You know, letting the batteries recharge and all that.”

“I said that you should take a break; if you don’t, I’m afraid you’ll end up on your back, unable to get up again.” said Minerva, concern shading her voice.

“I’ll be all right. There are just a few gashes, a couple of breaks, and some bruising. A few more hours, and I’ll be fine.” replied Tobias, feeling restless and agitated.

“I’d feel better if you rested for the remainder of the night. Back to the bed!” she demanded playfully, yet firmly.

“Well, if it’ll make you happy.” said Tobias, walking towards the bedroom. As he passed the telephone, it began to ring. Answering it, he immediately looked concerned. A few sharp yeses and no’s later, he was rushing to change out of his night clothes.

“What’s wrong?” asked Minerva.

“There’s been a murder at The Haven. Detective Green has asked that we go down there; he hesitated from mentioning any specifics, but it sounds like something really bad went down.” said Tobias.

“Well, I’ll get August to go there, and you are staying here. You need your rest.”

“No. What I need is to find out what happened. I spent a long time at The Haven, and I have a lot of friends there. I owe it to the community to see if there is something that the humans overlook.” growled Tobias; he was being uncharacteristically gruff with his wife, mostly due to his personal stake in the matter. The Haven was a club for were-folk, but it also became a gathering place for people that called themselves “Otherkin”. Otherkin were ordinary humans that pretended , or deluded themselves into believing, that they were something more than human. While some were just young folk dressed up in costumes, others “lived the lifestyle” by undergoing plastic surgery and implanting prosthetics.

“If one of the Otherkin have overstepped their bounds-” started Tobias.

“It is not yours to worry about right now. August will take care of everything. Tomorrow, if your wounds are healed, you can go. I won’t have you out there in this state, particularly in a place like that.” interrupted Minerva. She hoped that she didn’t sound too demanding, and that if she did, that Tobias would understand that she was doing it out of concern.

“Fine.” said Tobias unhappily.

***

August did not want to conclude his date with Dr. Kholsa so early in the evening. They had barely finished their meals when August received the urgent call from Minerva. Prabha offered to accompany August to The Haven, but August did not want to end his first date with her by going to examine a corpse. He drove the doctor to her home, which was on the way to The Haven.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” asked Prabha. “A second set of eyes would be a good thing to have.”

“No. You need to deal with this sort of thing every day. I wouldn’t want you to have to see it outside of work as well.” replied August. Prabha dropped the issue, hugging August before she walked out of the car. With a resigned sigh, he made his way to The Haven.

Entering the club was surreal; what was normally a dark and moody dance floor was a brightly lit and grisly scene. In the center of the dance floor laid a young woman wearing an ivory dress; her long, blonde hair was intricately plaited, and her skin was pallid.

“If she wasn’t dead, she’d be beautiful. Trick is, there’s no blood any where. We wondered if it was poison, but we won’t know until a tox-report gets done. We decided to call you in ’cause, well, she had no identification, and we were wondering if she could have been, you know, real.” explained Detective Green.

“The ear points could have been surgery, but the spacing on her eyes and the proportions of her face indicate that she’s actually an elf.” pronounced August after studying the body briefly. “I’d guess that she is somewhere between five-hundred to one-thousand years old.”

“Wow…” remarked the astonished detective. “They actually live that long? Wow. I couldn‘t imagine…”

“You’re not going to have much to go on until you find a cause of death. I’ll go ask around a bit and see if someone knows anything.” said August. Detective Green sneered in response, thinking that he had all ready gathered what information there was to be gathered.

“Good luck with that. When we arrived, the place was a madhouse. Most of ’em thought it was a raid and ran. The ones that stayed behind didn’t see anything. Then again, maybe you can be more persuasive, being that you’re like them and all.” said the detective, eliciting a sideways glance from August. August didn’t see himself as anything other than a human, and never thought that someone would insinuate otherwise.

As August and the detective talked, Lana, the club’s owner approached. She was lithe and tall; her skin an iridescent green with thick patches of scales on her chest and neck. Her eyes smoldered with an orange glow, and her hair was a thick, ropey, golden mass that crawled down past her waist. She carried herself with confidence as she introduced herself.

“You must be the investigator I have heard so much about. Tell me, where is your other half? I heard you always traveled in pairs.” said Lana with a seductive wave of her slender hand.

“She’s taking some time off.” replied August. “Our last case was a difficult one, and one of our friends were injured.” His manner was brief, but not impolite. Aware of Lana’s disposition, August wished to keep his interaction with her short and professional.

“I see.” responded Lana, glowering at Detective Green. “You can go now. I need to speak with this young man.” she said, shooing away the detective. Shrugging his shoulders and rolling his eyes, the detective skulked off. “You have questions to ask, yes?” she inquired of August.

“I do. Primarily, I’d like to know what has been going on here as of late. My counterpart has done some research, and informed me of what this club is. I suppose that the simplest place to start would be the interactions between the so-called ‘Otherkin’ and true supernatural creatures.”

“It is the same here as anywhere else in the States. The Otherkin want to be us, and some of us resent their imitation. To my knowledge, no one has been abnormally inclined towards violence.” her words were honey coated, and August felt that she knew more than she was saying. While not lying, she was certainly obfuscating the truth. She slinked closer to August, who did his best to not look at the cleavage that peeped out from the plunging neckline of her dress.

“What sort of super-naturals frequent this club?” asked August.

“Were-folk are our main clients, and that’s what keeps attracting the damn fursuiters.” she scowled as she said ’fursuiter’, spitting the word out like a curse. “This Elf, she’s quite the aberration. I don’t think I’ve seen any of their kind since the early seventies.”

“Any clue as to why an Elf would come here?” asked August, aware that Lana was staging an invasion of his personal space. One of her hands caressed his arm, sliding up towards his shoulder.

“You know, you have quite a reputation among us. Many are still wondering how you managed to outsmart the Queen of Autumn; perhaps this Elf was trying to find out about you and found trouble instead.” Lana smiled lustily, and August recoiled.

“If that’s the case, I need to investigate much further.” said August, excusing himself from the scene. Leaving Lana in a slump, August began to evaluate the pieces of the puzzle before him; there was an Elf where an Elf was seldom seen, and there was Lana, hiding some secret information. August resolved that he would ask Minerva to conclude the questioning of Lana, hoping that Minerva’s senses could uncover some hidden facet of Lana’s story.

Before leaving, August studied the face of the Elf. Even in death, she was startlingly beautiful, despite (or perhaps, because of) her exotic proportions. He silently made a promise to resolve the mystery…

***

Tobias and August arrived at the City Morgue early the next evening. Despite Minerva’s protests, Tobias decided he would join the investigation. A part of him felt that the murder was an affront to his community; any violence perpetrated near were-folk was easily blamed on were-folk. Speaking with the coroner, they discovered that her heart was the most damaged organ.

“It seemed like a single, strong thrust to her chest is what did it. From the fractures in her sternum, I’d say the attacker had an immense amount of power behind the strike. As far as strange damage, there is a burn on the heart.” announced the coroner, producing the small organ on a stainless steel dish. Looking at the light pink tissue, both August and Tobias saw a many-pointed star. It was the Star of Bodon, the symbol of King Bodon, a powerful devil. The two grimaced at each other, and each began to think of their next course of action.

“Tobias, I would like it if you accompanied Minerva to question Lana. In the meantime, have someone else to question. Tobias watched as August left. The coroner looked at Tobias, a puzzled look on his face.

“What’s going on?” asked the coroner shyly.

“It’s just a potential end of world crisis. No worries; we’ve dealt with this kind of stuff before.” said Tobias reassuringly.

*********************************************************************************************

I know, I know. It is supposed to be a complete story. However, rather than run more than 5 hours late, I decided to post what I have so far. After writing the outline for this story, I should have guessed that it was going to be far longer than what I’d be able to write in the time that I had. 

As I get deeper into the August and Minerva world, I find myself becoming more and more happy with each passing story. As the world grows, so does my enjoyment of it…

The rest will come later in the week, likely before the end of the weekend.

~H