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THE HIGH PRIESTESS

Extract

Forensics had been taking pictures all morning, their bright white flashes shining on the dewy floor. McQueen had heard whispers of fresh blood splatters on the floor in the dirt and more evidence further back in the trees. “I’ll try the House again, see if I can speak to the owner.” McQueen offered and started to move back towards the House but spun on his heels when a cheery voice called across the empty grounds.

 

“No need young fellow.” An older man over six feet tall in a tailored, pressed cream suit had sauntered right past the white and blue tape and had continued straight towards Hale and McQueen. His beard was neatly trimmed in a squared shape, and a perfectly trimmed moustache. He walked with a gold cane, ornate in design and matched his outfit perfectly. He didn’t walk with a limp however, which made McQueen instantly think the man was a prick.

Steam could have been seen rising from Hales ears as veins started to pop across his brow. Whichever officer had allowed a civilian across tape lines was going to get a beating.  “You can’t be here!” Hale snapped, marching over to the man who had paused to admire the young woman hanging. McQueen had to say ‘admire’ because that was look upon his face; the look of a man studying a painting in an art gallery. When Hale finally reached the man, he stuck out his hand, ignoring Hale foaming at the mouth.

 

“Archer Hellion, owner of Cardinal House. So sorry I wasn’t around for your last visit. Family matters interfered, still ongoing unfortunately. However, that is no excuse for the Police. I am here to help.” McQueen began to like this guy less and less.

 

“Get back behind the tape!” Hale snapped.

 

“But my dear officer,” Archer spoke calmly. “I thought I’d save you some trouble. When I heard that such an unfortunate event had occurred, and, on my land, I needed to see what I could do.”

 

Hale was about to yell again, when a second voice piped up, slinking from behind Archer and his shadow, “Besides Detective, you were so unprepared last time we spoke, I thought we’d save you the trouble of printing off pictures. We can see the scene for ourselves and try and identify the victims.” McQueen let out an audible gasp. Echo had swept her hair up in a messy bun and had decided to dress in all black leather. Leather trousers, a low-cut top showing her pale skin and knee-high leather black boots. She looked like sex on legs. Every cop in the vicinity looked her way, distracting them.

 

“Exactly.” Not once did the smirk on Archer’s lips waver. He was charming and sophisticated. He smiled like he was at a dinner party, not a crime scene and to make it worse, he wasn’t stupid, so he knew being this close to the crime scene was illegal but did it anyway. McQueen could help but sneer at him as the sickly, oozing feeling of deceit trickled across his skin. It made his want to check his pockets to see if his wallet was still there. “So, as we came to be of any assistance-,” Archer began but Hale cut him sharply off.

 

“Behind. The. Tape.” Hale hissed through gritted teeth and after a pause that could only be seen as a show of dominance, Archer bowed a fraction before walking backwards beyond the tape line. “So, you own this place!” Hale asked, not even opening his note pad to jot down his question. Archer had poked the wrong bear. “Well isn’t this a coincidence?” Hales voice dropped and octave or two, and a sneer captured him lips. “Well Mr. Hellion, if you would please be so kind to explain why there have been two murders on your property?”

 

Golden smile and rolling his shoulders Archer didn’t even blink. “Isn’t that your job?”

 

McQueen ground his teeth. “Your staff haven’t been cooperative. You won’t let us interview your guests. It’s like you don’t want this case to be solved.”

 

“I have instructed my staff to be nothing but helpful.” Archer said without missing a beat.

 

“And her?” Hale’s dark eyes darted to Echo stood behind Archer, her face placid as ever. It showed none of the wildness she had last night. She hadn’t even looked at McQueen, not that he was waiting for her too, or watching her not watch him.

 

“Ask me anything.” She answered, and if McQueen hadn’t been watching her like a hawk, he’d have missed her devilish eyes glance his way that could only give him chills. “Anything at all.”

 

Hale released a bated breath, deflating some of his rage. “McQueen. Escort Ms. Headly to the perimeter of the tap.” McQueen stepped forward a grasped Echo's arm. “And Mr. Helion, please, follow me where I can ask you some questions about the nature of this case.” Hale directed him back outside to a well-placed cop-car, door open and waiting. The two men walked side by side, neither allowing the other to fall behind them. It was a battle of stubbornness. McQueen wanted to laugh until a heavy steel rod hit him hard in the back. It was really more of a light bump, but McQueen was rattled. He didn’t know if his day could get any worse.

 

Turning full of rage, he came across a sheepish looking forensics member, stuttering apologies as he redirected the gurney, the body bag swaying over the lumpy grass. “S-sorry detective.” He stammered, hurrying on while the black bag jiggled on the earth.

 

McQueen sighed placing his hands on his hips, cricking his neck. He was too jumpy. One murder was a tragedy, but now they had five bodies and no suspects. Mrs. Farrows would no doubt go down for the attempted murder of her husband, but did she even know the three victims they’d just found? Would she be stupid enough to put out multiple hits on multiple people? Or maybe it wasn’t Mrs. Farrows. Maybe this was another contract killing done by the same sadistic killer. So far Hale and McQueen had kept the deaths off the newsfeeds and tv stations, but if word got out, people would start to panic seeing serial killers at every turn.

 

“Alright Ms. Headly, if you’ll just f-,” The words stilled on McQueen lips. Looking back to Echo, he paled when the space where she’d been stood previously was empty.

THE EMPEROR

Extract

They hadn’t been walking for long.  The staircase they’d found spiralled downwards so much, McQueen thought it might never stop.  Fortunately, it did, but he didn’t like their new prospects anymore down here.   The darkness clawed at his phone light and in its dim glow, he couldn’t see much.  Looking around it only seemed to be a disused service tunnel - for what he wasn’t sure - which just begged the question again, why wasn’t he down here with Hale, a rescue team, council workers and most importantly, a map?

​

“I really don’t think we should be down here,” He spoke his uncertainty, but he should have remembered who he was with.

​

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.” Echo snorted, and gabbed his hand, shining the light at their feet instead.  “Look, still loads of footprints.  We’re heading in the right direction.” And, for the most part she was right.  The prints were easy to spot; the dirt freshly scuffed, and the thick layer of dust had been disturbed.  If it hadn’t been for McQueen’s phone however, which so far was keeping its battery life, he wasn’t sure how they could have travelled in the dark.

​

“Right.” McQueen breathed and he again thought of the mess this case was becoming.  One dead child, a dozen missing children over ten years ago and now two disappearances, both from the same family.  How could so many children be down here for so many years?  How could they all go missing and not ever their bodies be found?  And what percentage of Echo’s rambles were true; was this a cult?  And this Shade; who was he and what was his background?

​

“What do they do with the children?” McQueen asked, creeping slowly through the dark corridor.  There were branches of different corridors, even the odd doorway into another room, but he and Echo remained on the muddy footprints.  “You said you were down here for weeks, what did you do?”

​

Echo remained quiet, so much so, McQueen wasn’t sure she’d answer, until she huffed a noncommittal grunt.  “Nothing.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing’?”

​

“Nothing,” She repeated.  “You just played, or slept, or fight or … play.”

​

“There has to be something more.” McQueen shook his head as they continued to move.  “There’s no reasoning to steal children with no gain.  Maybe you didn’t see it when you were down here, maybe the missing children were sold as they grew up?” McQueen theorised.

“Yer, that’s not what happens.” Echo answered.

​

“Then what?” McQueen stopped and span to face her.  “Stop hiding the truth Echo.  If you know what happens, tell me.  If fact, you should have told us before.  Why is it always the same with you?  You could help us with a case and you just-… hold everything back.” McQueen asked in anguish.

​

“Because there’s-,”

​

“Nothing in it for you.” McQueen spat finishing her sentence, unsurprised.  “You hide facts, hide the truth and then when you do spill, its crazy nonsense like: child cults and this Shade, who has no other reason for stealing children other then ‘letting them play’?” McQueen laughed, mocking Echo.

​

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that Queenie.” Echo hissed, squaring up to him, ready to go.  “You’re happy to think outside the box when you need guidance; begging the bastard upstairs for help, but the minutes anything becomes a reality, oh you back right off. Children go missing, yes that normal.  Children leered by narcotics dressed as sweets; yes possible.  But God forbid it’s for nefarious reasons.” Echo scoffed.

​

“Then tell me the truth.” McQueen screamed.  “Why lie about it?  Why does this Shade take children?  What does he use them for, where do they go, why have none of them been found?”

​

“You want to know where they go Queenie?” Echo asked, her voice already building up for the grand reveal.  “You really want to fucking know?  Fine, here’s the truth.  They-,”

​

The sound of pebbles falling skittled across the floor and Echo stilled.  McQueen froze too and between them the world stilled.  All through their progress down the dark twists and turns, McQueen hadn’t heard anything more than rat claws scurrying away and their own heavy breathing.  Rocks didn’t fall without being pushed.  Pebbles didn’t scuttle without an outside force…

​

“Stay behind me.” McQueen whispered tucking his phone away and reaching round for his gun; his fingers itching for the cold steel butt.  But he grasped at empty air and suddenly McQueen felt bare and exposed.  He had no gun.  It was lying in that damn park somewhere, empty of bullets and attached to so much paperwork.

​

“Don’t move.” Echo said through unmoving lips and McQueen felt he could do nothing but listen.

​

They were at a cross section, multiple tunnels leading in many directions, empty rooms holding dead junction boxes and miles of cable.  Frozen and blind, they listened for a pin to drop and as more rocks scraped across the floor, the cold, bone tingling chill of being watched slipped up McQueen’s spine.  Every corridor echoed and there were too many possibilities to count; trying to pinpoint where the sounds came from became impossible.  That was until the eerie glow of lit torches began to rise around them.

​

First, they were a far-off hue through a fog, the dust in the air clouding them, but as the firelight grew, so did the undertone of babble.  It was no human language McQueen knew; the chattering of teeth and low, animalistic growls forming no sentences or words.  It was like wolves in an icy plane, there communication basic and wild.

​

McQueen felt Echo seize up as she scooted closer to him and when the stench of unwashed bodies hit them, she hissed.  McQueen didn’t know how he knew, but it was a smell that was distinctive.  It was the stench of survival.

​

✽✽✽

​

A child.

​

Small and hunkered down, the kid was naked.  Dirt covered him head to toe and there was some sort of paint streaked beneath his eyes.  Rotten teeth hung from his mouth and there were multiple scars dotting his skin.   He rocked on his feet in anticipation and the flaming candle he held swayed with his movements.  McQueen didn’t dare blink, his mouth dry with fear, as where there was one, there were several.  Boys and girl of all ages loped out of the shadows, some in rags others as naked as the day they were born.  Either way, they were all in a state of disarray and the potent smell of filth began to collect in the air.

​

               “Don’t do anything rash.” Echo hissed her voice tight with tension, despite McQueen feeling his body relax.  They were just small, innocent children after all, but Echo believed differently.  “You are surrounded by those who have live underground most of their life.  I told you they thrive on survival.” Echo backed up as the circle of children tightened around them.  “Don’t drop your guard.”

McQueen steadied himself before shifting onto the balls of his feet; ready for anything.  He scolded himself again for not having his gun with him – how could he have not noticed Echo had dropped it?  It was in his very nature to draw it when faced with danger but even as he readied himself, he didn’t think he could have shot a child.  Watching the circle form around him, he gaped at how vicious they looked.  He could hardly believe what he was seeing.  With a quick count, McQueen estimated there were about fifteen children drawing close, some as young as five, to older looking boys around twelve.  They held sticks and makeshift weapons of all designs: bats, planks of wood, metal pipes; as well as trivial things, like sharpened shrapnel or even just rather large rocks.

​

“So,” He whispered, “What do we do?” McQueen didn’t dare look at Echo, but he could feel her trembling beside him.  It seemed they were both out of their league.   Spit suddenly flew from hissing teeth and McQueen was shocked that he flinched.  “We don’t want any trouble.” He spoke aloud, but the circle continued to tighten not slowing a fraction.  “We want to help.” He tried but to no avail.

​

One adventurous boy took a quick jump forward, jabbing his stick at McQueen’s ribs.  The hardened Detective was proud to say, this time, he didn’t flinch but did find himself batting the weapon away.  More hissing and low, throaty growls followed, and McQueen found he was suddenly turning on the spot, trying to keep his eyes on all of them at once.  He didn’t even know how Echo was fairing and the one second he did spare to glance at her, she wore a deathly glare ready to take on anything.

​

“Fff-rshhhh.” One boy smiled, stepping closer, now but an arm’s length away.  Echo was standing flush against McQueen’s back and they no longer dared turn on the spot.  “Fffrr-sssshhh.”

​

“What are they saying?” McQueen asked his heart beating faster than he thought possible.  Sweat covered his skin as fear quaked in every muscle and with each passing second, he desperately wished for his gun.  Echo mumbled something, but McQueen didn’t catch it.  “What?”

“Fresh.” She hissed with a snap.  “We’re fresh meat: to play with, to toy with.” Echo huffed and kicked out viciously at one tiny girl who was getting too close.  “We might be bigger versions of them, but they don’t see that.  We are different, so we are bad.”

​

McQueen looked at the children again and saw no curiosity in their eyes, or suspicion; only wild excitement and the promise of pain.  He was all ready for them to bolt, his feet itching to run at any moment’s notice...

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