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We continue our walk, passing by the darkened Joint Task Force of Paranormal Investigations headquarters. Sharpe’s demeanor shifts, his expression growing quiet and pensive.
I reach out to touch his arm. “It’s not your fault.”
Sharpe sighs, his gaze fixed on the building. “I know, but it’s such a waste. All that work, the creation of the Ward, and now it sits empty.”
“Yeah, it’s a shame.” Regret fills me for all the missed opportunities that closing the building represents. “After everything that went into making it secure, we should be putting it to good use.”
The Ward, especially, is being wasted.
We put in a lot of effort to create a jail that can contain even the most powerful magical beings. We tried to recreate it inside the Bone Guard headquarters, but it’s not the same. The Ward is special, built within a ley line node. Nothing like it exists in Clearhelm.
New Clearhelm sprung up around the JTFPI, and without its presence, the development is struggling. It would have been better if the Grave Yard stretched its reach a little farther and claimed this part of Clearhelm, too.
I squeeze Sharpe’s arm. “Come on. A greasy burger will?—”
A terrified shriek cuts me off, coming from the dark ramp that accesses the underground parking lot for the building.
Sharpe and I move at the same time, drawing our weapons and rushing down into the garage. Darius follows, calling out for caution as he summons fire to his hand to illuminate the concrete space.
Another scream pierces the air, joined by a growl that echoes through the garage.
“That way!” Sharpe points and veers to the left.
Darius’s flames cast flickering shadows that dance around a single car parked near the elevators.
Our steps slow as we approach, scanning our surroundings.
A choked gurgle comes from the other side of the car, followed by a wet ripping sound that makes my stomach clench.
Cautious of danger, we circle the vehicle, weapons at the ready. Darius’s blaze reflects off the blood-splattered ground, the door panels, and the large, black dog hunkered over the still figure as it rips open the woman’s guts.
With a curse, Darius casts fire toward it, and the beast’s head lifts, the flames reflecting in its milky, white eyes before it vanishes between one heartbeat and the next.
The gut-churning scent of released bowels and the heavy tang of copper fill the air, along with faint traces of gasoline and exhaust that linger in the underground garage.
Gazes alert, we approach the woman sprawled out on the ground, her glassy eyes staring at the ceiling, and nausea twists in my stomach.
Vicki. It looks like her addiction didn’t get her killed after all.
I did when I turned her away from the Yard.
put on a smile
- Sharpe -
Hand tightening around the weapon in my hand, I turn from Darius and Pen to scan the garage for more of the monster, but the only sound is our labored breathing and the rush of my pulse in my ears.
My stomach tightens when I turn back toward the gruesome scene splayed out on the floor.
Scorch marks etch the side of the car, and blood forms a growing pool on the cold cement. My reluctant gaze shifts to settle on Vicki’s lifeless form, her throat and chest ripped open.
I didn’t like Vicki. Hell, my fellow officers and I used to draw straws on who would be called out to chase her down and haul her naked ass in for a night in lockup.
No one deserves this fate, though.
I turn to Pen, who scans the surroundings, her golden eyes darting to all the shadowed corners. “What was that thing?”
She doesn’t look at me as she answers. “A black dog, I think, but I can’t be certain.”
