His group of six men made their way quietly
to a steel back door. Nick held up his hand and they stopped moving
as a unit.
All Roman could hear besides his own
pounding heart and heavy breathing was the excited respiration of
the men behind him. He knew the adrenaline dump pre-entry, and the
high level of testosterone that was flowing in each man's veins. He
could smell it.
"Police! Search warrant!" was yelled from
the front.
A loud smash of the battering ram hitting
the door was next.
Nick made a signal. The biggest man in their
unit rammed the back door with a metal battering ram. It only took
him one powerful hit to punch it open.
They flooded the building and raised their
flashlights up with their AK rifles and fanned out. All the while
Roman could hear the agents identifying themselves in loud voices,
"FBI! Search warrant!" "ATF agents! Come out with your hands up!"
as they went room to room.
From the back door, his group encountered
nothing. No fleeing hoards of crooks or shots fired. Not a sound of
commotion, but it was a very large building, and they needed to go
floor by floor.
The front entry team and rear unit met up.
"Nothing yet. Go check each room," Nick said, "My men, take the
second and third floor. Feds, go up to the top and work down."
Roman and the rest of the team began their
ascent up an exposed stairway that was more like a fire escape
ladder than an interior staircase in a factory building. It shook
with the combined weight of big, muscular men and heavy SWAT
gear.
Roman and Phil peeled off from the group to
search their area. They signaled the rest to move on. He and Phil
had done the routine so often they knew each other's movements
before they met gazes or exchanged signals.
One by one, Roman and Phil cleared the
massive maze of rooms. The only thing inside each graffiti-tagged
space was garbage, broken office furniture, newspapers, used
condoms, hypodermic needles, and dead rats. And it stunk of urine
and age. The plasterboard walls peeled from moisture, and the floor
was rotted.
Not a sign of current inhabitation or any
clandestine activity met Roman's eyes. But they had a long way to
go before they were done.
They approached the end of the hall; an open
door was at each side. Roman gave a sign to Phil he'd take the
left, and Phil should move right.
Roman held his rifle upright and entered the
room, pointing his flashlight around the perimeter. A strong smell
hit him. But it didn't seem toxic, more herbal. But it overpowered
him with its potency, not to mention the surprise of smelling
anything other than decay, mold, piss, and dust.
On the walls were different symbols. These
were not gang signs or swear words like in all the other rooms. A
red inverted pentagram was mostly whitewashed over and other signs
were covering it, as if to negate its terrible message. Roman was
about to shout, "Clear!" to Phil when, in the pitch blackness, he
caught something shadowy moving out of the corner of his eye. He
spun around and pointed his AK and flashlight. Nothing was
there.
"Clear, Roman." Phil poked his head into the
room, telling Roman he had found nothing in his own search.
"Okay." Roman lowered the gun and was about
to join Phil to regroup and see if anyone had found anything, but
something held him back.
A heavy red mist blinded him temporarily,
blocking his path to the hall. Roman waved his gloved hand in front
of himself to try and see through it. It made him cough and his
flashlight didn't seem to permeate it.
Dizziness hit him next. He reached out to
the wall, trying to prevent falling. "Phil." He coughed harder,
unable to shout loudly because this toxic air was in his
throat.
Once Phil realizes I'm not behind him, he'll
come back. No one is left behind on any mission. Ever.
The darkness seemed to deepen and his
flashlight fell from his gloved hand, shutting off as it hit the
floor. Roman dropped to his padded knees, feeling sicker by the
minute, wondering what he had stumbled into. He hoped no one else
was suffering the same fate. A terrible fear that they'd been set
up, and this was a trap to kill them, rushed over Roman.
"Roman?" Phil called out.
He tried to answer, "In here", but choked
and coughed on his words. He fell to his back, the gun still
clutched in his hand, but it felt as if someone were tugging at it
to get it away from him.
In the blackest of shadows, a female form,
but not a normal woman, was standing over him. Her face was painted
bright red with white and blue markings under her eyes. A crest of
black feathers topped the upper half of a wolf's skull, with its
fur skin draped on her head. She held something in each hand and
Roman heard chanting.
Bile rose in his throat. He turned his head
to the side in case he threw up.
"Roman!"
Phil's voice seemed frantic. Roman couldn't
figure out what was taking him so long. Surely Phil was only down
the hall and knew where he had last seen him.
A black bird was hanging over his chest. The
woman had it dangling by its feet in her hands. She cut its neck
and blood spattered Roman's face shield and body armor. The
chanting was making his ears ring.
"Roman, you fucker! Where the hell are
you?"
Roman used all his willpower to move, to
yell, to shake this haze, but all he could do was lay prone while
something wicked began to possess him.
"I can't find Roman!" Phil's voice was panic
stricken. "He was just in this room! Roman! Where the hell are
you?"
Roman was beyond confused. An army of men
were looking for him, but he was still in the same place. Wasn't
he?
He rocked side to side on his back, like a
tortoise that can't right itself. His gun dropped from his hand and
he heard it clatter with a loud echo. The red painted woman knelt
between Roman's bent knees. When he felt pressure against his groin
area, he tried to jerk away. 'Phil!' he was shouting in his brain
and had no idea if sound was coming out.
Roman felt his teeth ache even just from the
memory. To try and stem off the change, he began inhaling deeply,
rubbing his stomach as it tightened.
Butch took notice. "Uh oh."
"What?" Charlie seemed to wake from his
daydream.
"Roman?" Butch asked.
"Pull over." Roman couldn't shake the grip of
that horrible event.
"Oh, Christ!" Butch looked in his rear view
mirror.
"Pull over!" Roman doubled over in his
seat.
The truck came to a halt on the shoulder and
dust and exhaust blew like a wave over them.
~
Charlie panicked. "No way! No!" He hopped out
of the back seat as Roman clawed at the inside of the passenger's
door. Charlie opened it and grabbed Roman into a bear hug, making
sure even if he turned he did not race off. "Roman…calm. Okay?
Calm…deep breathing…" Charlie heard Butch make a noise in distress
as the traffic roared on the interstate behind them.
"Okay, baby. Look me in the eye." Charlie
cupped Roman's smooth jaw, only just noticing he had shaven
completely clean. And this was the first time Charlie had ever seen
Roman without beard growth. "Look at me, my lover."
Although he was struggling, Roman met his
eyes.
Charlie could see the wolf trying to come out
so clearly he felt it inside himself. "Calm." Charlie caressed
Roman's hair and neck. "No need for this."
Roman blew out a few breaths and tears filled
his eyes.
"That's it." Charlie could tell the peak of
the sensation was subsiding in Roman. "Better. Keep lookin' at
me."
Butch rubbed Roman's back gently. "Yer
okay."
When Roman's breathing became normal, Charlie
cupped his jaw and asked softly. "What happened?"
"I…" Roman, drained of energy, got into the
truck. He sat in the seat, his head leaning against the headrest.
"I recalled the day it happened. Me and Phil…"
"Okay." Charlie dug his fingers into Roman's
hair at the side of his face. "It's done. Okay? Nothin' we can do
to go back."
"I know." Roman nodded, closing his eyes.
Charlie noticed him mouth something to
himself. "What are you sayin'?"
"…this will pass."
"It will." Charlie kissed him and a horn
honked from the highway.
"She-it." Butch looked at the cars flying by
and held the steering wheel with both hands. "Don't know if they
saw that kiss and that was their reaction."
Charlie held onto Roman's head and made him
look him in the eye again. "We're good to keep goin'?"
"Yes." Roman gave Charlie a slight curl of
his lips, a sad smile.
Charlie made sure Roman was completely inside
the truck, then shut the door and climbed back in. "Go on, Butch."
He fastened his safety belt.
Butch turned on his signal and looked for a
chance to merge back into traffic.
"Sorry." Roman ran both hands over his
hair.
"No problem. We're good." Charlie touched
Roman's shoulder from behind.
As if trying to sound normal, Roman asked
Butch, "How we doing on gas?"
"Half a tank." Butch accelerated to full
speed once more and let out a loud sigh.
"Okay," Roman said, seeming to relax in the
seat.
Charlie was uneasy, trying to keep Roman
sedate was a tall order. The man was usually in charge, raiding
illegal arms dealers, or gangs of thugs. 'Calm' wasn't in his
vocabulary. It was difficult enough not giving in and changing into
something himself.
Roman reached back for him. Charlie held his
hand. It caught Butch's attention and he glanced over. "I should
stop for gas and a piss," Butch said.
"I agree." Charlie thought it may be a good
idea for Roman to get out and stretch his legs, splash his
face.
Roman gave Charlie's fingers a squeeze and
released them.
Charlie took off his cowboy hat, rubbed his
head tiredly and closed his eyes.
Control, Roman…just learn how
to control your emotions…
Charlie began drifting off. He was exhausted.
Unable to sleep without the nightmarish dreams, he could relate to
Roman's tendency to become easily angered. When you don't sleep
well at night, you're on edge. Dozing where he sat, in the warmth
of the truck, a strange memory hit Charlie.
"You're him."
Roman jolted and crouched down. "Who am
I?"
"The red witch turned you."
In the noise, Nick shouted, "Hang on! Quiet
down." He asked the roving team, "Is the house secure?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go on, Roman." Nick gestured for him to
talk to the man. "Get them out." Nick waved.
"Wait!" Roman stopped him.
"Roman, we need to interview them
separately. This is a homicide investigation."
Roman gripped the man by his shirt and sat
him upright. Behind him the suspects were being led outside.
"Can you change me back?" Roman asked.
"We were doing a cleansing ritual." The man
nodded to a smoking bundle of twigs. "Sacred Sage."
"To cleanse what?" Roman glanced around him
as each suspect was being evacuated.
"To cleanse what the red witch did to
you."
"Nick!" Roman called out but his excitement
was obviously causing him pain. "Nick! Get back here!"
"Roman, I agreed to allow you on the scene.
But as lead agent I have to do my job."
"Tell him what you just told me." Roman
pointed to Nick.
"We were just doing a cleansing ritual to
fix what that witch did to this man."
"Nick, come on!" Roman begged.
Nick appeared conflicted.
"How far were you in the ritual?" Roman
asked. He spotted men beginning to turn the home inside out. "Hold
it! Do not touch anything!"
They checked with Nick. He nodded to the
uniformed men. "Step outside."
When only Nick, Roman, and the one man were
left in the house, Nick knelt beside the man whose hands were tied
in flex cuffs behind his back. "You better tell me what's going on
now."
"Ophelia found a book of spells." The man
tried to scratch his nose with his shoulder. "She had us doing
animal sacrifices and experimenting with strange toxic potions. She
went overboard. We were scared to death of her."
"Who killed her?" Nick asked.
"I don't know. Something dark. I don't think
it was human."
Charlie tried to open his eyes but he was
lulled by the truck's movement, the heat inside the cab and fell
into the strange dream again…
"Hold the Sacred Sage." A woman took the
book of spells and placed it on the floor near burning candles.
Charlie watched Roman hold the smoldering
herb as Phil, Nick, and the rest of the ATF team stayed perfectly
still.
The group from the cult held hands
completing the circle.
The woman took a deep breath and read, "In
the name of all ye spirits of the earth, wind, darkness, and light.
In the name of the Sacred wolf and crow…of the red witch who cast
this curse against these mortals and who ever shall cast them into
a curse…with the burning of the Sacred Sage let the curse be
banished. What was done unto them, be gone. Undo the pain of their
transformation."
Charlie began to sweat and feel weak. He
gripped Roman, but Roman was unsteady on his legs as well.
"Be it now undone," the woman read, "By the
light of the stars and heavenly bodies, remove the curse. Reverse
the sign of the wolf and crow, and let them return to their human
souls…
"Lift this venomous curse and allow them to
enter the sacred place where peace and love rule. Accept our pain
in what was done, and our apologies. Disperse the evil, set free
the wolf and crow spirits and all be gone by morning's light."
Charlie hit the floor with his knees and
choked. He heard a thump and Roman had dropped, out cold beside
him.