Blood Lust: A Supernatural Horror (34 page)

Simmons
smacked a fist into his palm. “I’d like another crack at it.”

“We all would.
We’ll keep a discrete eye on Hardin for
a while
just to play it safe
, as well as search for
Dr. Alvarez
. Who knows? Hardin seems to be a lightning rod for these creatures. I doubt we’ve seen the last of them.”

Simmons said nothing
, but he knew he would do things a little different
ly
if he got a second
opportunity
. If the creature could rejuvenate
as
quickly
as the lab boys claimed
, he would
n’t
have to be so gentle in its capture. He would
n’t
mind if things got a little messy.
He also wouldn’t mind a talk with the good Dr. Alvarez.

16

My last day in the hospital was agonizing
waiting on word from Joria but she never contacted me.
I was
itching to leave
and find her
but had to wait restless hours for the doctor to release me. I was given a cane to help ease my still sore ankle. Between my arm in a sling and a walking cane, I looked like an invalid when I
clumsily tried to climb
in
to
the taxi.
Home felt good
as I walked through the door
. I was anxious to get back to work, but knew I needed to heal first. I sat back on the sofa
with my foot propped up, sipping a cold beer as I went over Joria’s notes
, which I had asked a fellow detective to liberate from Joria’s hotel room before it became evidence or disappeared into the hands of the Feds
.

Reading between the lines, I could
now
see vague hints of her morbid fascination of the creature. Her professional desire to learn all she could about the creature
had
slowly changed to admiration when she learned of its intelligence. Twice, she had mentioned the possibility of the
Chupacabra
supplanting humans as the dominant species
, stating
her opinion
that humanity
had been given its opportunity and had failed
. She
intimated
but
made no
direct
mention of the creature’s ability to procreate. It was as if she
desired
this secret for herself
, perhaps to reveal in her paper for the scientific journals, though I thought it odd that I found no
mention of such a paper
.

She did mention the
creatures’
periodic hibernations that allowed them to reset their internal clocks to aid in their longevity
and
their
ability to rejuvenate
. I feared the creature, its offspring destroyed, its lair discovered, might enter hibernation, making it impossible to locate. I had to kill it
quickly
, even if doing so meant an end to my career
.

I
had misjudged Joria badly. I suppose it was my curse with women. My ex claimed I never understood her. I
could
but
wonder how much of Joria’s affection
for me
was real and how much was a ploy to use me
to capture the creature
. I thought I had felt something between us,
something more than just hot and heavy sex,
but my record was less than perfect
, marred as it was by
a pair of
failed marriage
s
and numerous aborted relationships.
I tried not to dwell on it.

I wondered why she had simply vanished, leaving her clothes and her papers. Was it because of the Feds?
Was there a connection between her and them?
Or perhaps her close brush with death had quelled her desire to learn more of the creature
.
She might be wandering the city now, dazed and confused
, though with the authorities searching for her, she couldn’t hide for long
.

I
looked up and
noticed it was time for the local news. I wondered how the press had handled the story. I quickly learned as I watched Ella
Ramirez
,
pert
Channel 6 WBBT
news announcer
.
Her
green
eyes literally blazed with excitement as she spoke.

“There is still no confirmation
by
local authorities that the so-called Midnight Monster may have been a victim himself two nights ago in an unusual fire at the old
Jesuit monastery
on the east side of the city. The 250-year old monastery
, site of the abandoned St.
Andrews church
,
is the location
where
Detective Thackery Hardin discovered
the bodies of
six
young
women;
all supposed victims of the Monster
.
Detective Thackery Hardin, whose partner, Detective Lee Atwood, died at the hands of this serial killer, was found injured at the scene of the fire but has offered no explanation as to the cause of the fire, though
Fire Chief Andrew Klegmann has tentatively ruled it as arson.

“Brazilian
Crytozoologist
Doctor
Joria Alvarez, who some say was aiding the authorities on the case, has disappeared under unusual circumstances. Has she become
the Monster’s s
eventh
victim
or are t
he authorities
, who
are keeping particularly close-lipped about this case,
keeping her under wraps, away from reporters.
T
his reporter doubt
s
the reports of the Midnight Monster’s demise. If you are a young woman, living alone on anything other than the ground floor of a building, I would
keep my doors and windows locked tight and
keep a light on.”

I
detested
such
blatant
fear mongering by the media.
She
had said nothing about the hundreds of police blanketing the area or the long hours they were putting in to protect the citizens. I was almost surprised
she wasn’t
actively rooting for the Midnight Monster.
Sensationalism sold. Thank
God,
there had so far been no leak about the juveniles.
Bledsoe seemed to have kept good his promise to keep the two surviving women under wraps. The Sattersby girl had suddenly decided to take an Australian vacation
to some undisclosed location
. The other girl was still in protective custody. I knew that couldn’t last long.

I spent most of one entire agonizing day dealing with my auto insurance company.
They did not buy my story about a
lunatic
on the
loose
. I finally admitted that a perpetrator I had arrested had taken it for a destructive joy ride. This they believed and settled
for full value
. I
took a taxi to Lee’s parents and offered my condolences for his death, then
bought Lee’s Ford Explorer
from them
. I got a little emotional
as I drove it home
.
The interior
still smelled
of L
ee’s
aftershave
.
We had been partners for five years. Now I had no one to watch my back. It was an empty feeling.

By my third day home
, I
was growing restless. I
felt well enough to return to work.
My shoulder was working, albeit a little
stiffly
, and my ankle was back up to par.
As I walked into the precinct, t
he stares I
received
were a mixture of admiration and fear. I was Detective Hardin, Monster Slayer, but no one wanted in on my glory; my sidekicks had a bad habit of dying.
So far, no more missing girls had been reported. I tried to believe, like some of the others, that it was all over, but inside I knew it was not.
I looked at the whiteboard with its
six
photos of the dead girls and more than ever wanted a chance at this creature.

A
second
w
eek passed
uneventfully
with no news of Joria
’s whereabouts
. The city sighed
a
collective
breath of
relief.
People once again
filled the streets after dark. Clubs filled with revelers. Alleyways
overflowed
with assorted scum.
Reluctantly,
I became involved in other cases. The
c
aptain was convinced the
Chupacabra
had left the city and was, as he put it, “Some other s
.
o
.
b
.
’s problem”.
One of my
new
cases involved a drug smuggling operation and a murder.
The DEA was technically in charge of the operation but one of the gang members had made the mistake of killing one of our precinct officers while in pursuit. That put it in my jurisdiction. I promised to cooperate with the DEA, at least until I spotted my boy, a gangbanger named ‘Chuey’.

We
staked out a warehouse on the east side of town
down by
the waterfront
where a Latino gang regularly brought in
shipping container
loads of marijuana and cocaine. My second night on stakeout, Chuey showed up.
I watched as the warehouse doors slid open
just wide enough
to allow Chuey’s Limo to enter. The place
bristled with armed men.
When his Limo stopped, his driver hopped out
and
opened Chuey’s door
.
Chuey
stepped out
like a king
at court,
dressed in an Armani suit
that cost more than my entire wardrobe
and wearing Italian loafers
that were so polished
they gleamed
.
I watched
attentively as
Chuey
strut
ted
his way to
the
office
like he was safe at home
.
The g
uards posted on the roof and at various places around the warehouse
probably made him feel secure
.
He didn’t know how badly I wanted him.

Making my way in
to the warehouse undetected
would be difficult. Getting out with Chuey would be next to impossible. The dope was
in the warehouse
or Chuey would not have made an appearance
. The DEA
men
were waiting on the
transfer vehicles to arrive
for a clean sweep. My only concern was Chuey.

Scanning the area
for a way in, I s
potted an old overhead conveyor running between buildings. The near end of the conveyor was not under the guards’ scrutiny. I slipped through the shadows until I reached the building, entered through a side door and climbed a ladder to the overhead conveyor. The guard
on the roof
couldn’t see me. A
large fan on the roof of the warehouse
blocked his line of sight
. The guards on the ground
weren’t bothering to look up
.

The conveyor was about
forty
feet above the ground and open to the air
except for s
ix-inch rails r
unning
along the side of the four-foot wide rubber belt. I
was uncomfortable with
heights.
I was glad it was night
so I couldn’t see the ground
four
stories below
.
I took a deep breath and crawled on my hands and knees, hoping the conveyor supports were not rusty. The structure groaned slightly but not loudly enough to give me away. I reached the far roof exhausted from the long crawl
and glad to be on a solid surface
.

The guard was
on the far side of the building
taking a leak
off the ed
ge of the roof. I came up behind him
quietly
, grabbed him around the neck and
hit him soundly on the side of his head with the butt of my .45.
I didn’t kill him, but he would have one hell of a headache later. I gagged him with my handkerchief, cuffed his hands and legs and dragged him out of sight.