You are not logged in.
#1 2010-01-12 16:25:58
- wolfblood17
- Member
- From: Insane Asylum
- Registered: 2009-04-14
- Posts: 695
The Devil's Domain
I know you earlier readers of Ruby Caves will be pissed off at me for sticking the first chapter up here again. It is far better than what was written a long time ago though (and I know it's not the best, but chapter two is good). So if you don't want to read the final upgrade the public will see, leave now. Enjoy if you want to stay. This just part 1 of it though....
1: The Devil’s Domain
Brooklyn, New York
July 11, 2009
1: 32 P.M.
The sun was beating down on the back of the two men’s necks as they sat in the boiling front seats of the black Mercedes. William Case watched over his father’s shoulder at the large apartment they were parked across from. It was a plain red brick building, two stories high, with large cracks appearing around the four windows. A stoop led to a large oak door with a bare light resting on top of a small red awning. Holly bushes edged along the front wall of the building, they were the only sign of plant life around the apartment. The window shades were closed, obscuring the view of the inside.
His cell phone jangled in his pocket startling both men. Adam, his father gasped and jumped; jerking the scopes of the binoculars into his eye sockets. “shite,” he hissed under his breath, turning to glare at his son. William glanced at the caller id; it was Sarah, his wife. He answered it on the third ring.
“Hi sweetie,” William started. “What’s up?”
“Hey,” she answered back. “Jeff and I made our decision about the raid.”
He knew the answer before she said it. He closed his eyes and swallowed, waiting for the words. “We’re doing it today,” she said quietly and sighed.
“Your so predictable… it couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?” he asked, opening his eyes. Adam was still glaring at him.
“No,” she paused, “that gently caressing cannibal needs to die today. No matter how many bullets we have to waste, that motherfucker is going to Hell by my hands!” She ranted. Living with Sarah for seventeen years, he knew all to well that when she was pissed, she kept talking until all the frustration of the day is released. William was the one to sigh this time.
“William,” she said, her voice radiating with confidence and rage. “You didn’t see those bodies…what happened to those people will never happen again. By the power of every gently caressing deity known to man…those gutless bastards will die today!” she yelled into the phone, startling William.
“Just don’t make me plan funeral arrangements for you… I swear to every gently caressing deity too, don’t leave us.”
“I won’t leave you, I love you…and I love Michael.” Her tone immediately dropping, her voice was quiet.
“I love you too.” There was a pause. Sarah sighed, swallowed audibly and then she hung up, leaving William with a dial tone. He slid his phone closed and stuffed it into his pocket.
"About gently caressing time,” Adam growled, still glaring. The rage in his father’s eyes died down a little. “Put the phone on the gently caressing dashboard,” he snapped.
He did what his father told him, “Why are we here anyway?”
“You’ll see… get out of the car,” he said, shaking his head. William climbed out of the car and shut the door. He stood by waiting for his father; he ducked and looked in through the window at his father and shrugged, lifting up his hands in the “what’s taking so long?” manner. Adam waved the gesture away and ducked out of the car.
He looked at William, face stern, and jerked his head toward the house. His son followed, keeping the same pace as the older man. They were walking slowly, “Here take this and just follow my lead,” Adam whispered, handing William a golden police badge.
Shocked, William quickly put it in his pocket. “We can’t go around parading as cops; you know damned well it’s illegal.”
“Like I give a shite, now shut the gently caress up and don’t talk to these people… look like a rookie.”
“I am a rookie,” William mumbled in response. Adam snorted and then gave a harsh chuckle.
Looking around, William noticed something long and thin running down his father’s back. He barely noticed it beneath his father’s black trench coat. How can he wear that? He thought. “What’s on your back?” he asked.
“You’ll see,” his father answered testily. He was a naturally impatient man, William knew. Today though, he’d never seen his father that impatient. It was a little frightening.
They reached the door and Adam knocked, he stepped back respectively and waited; folding his hands above his waist. William glanced around nervously, more sweat beaded down his forehead. He was glad for the deodorant and cologne he put on earlier in the morning. His hands started to fidget with his shirt.
A chain was released on the other side of the door, then it was opened wide enough for a face to appear. The man staring at William and his father had dark skin, a muscular, triangular face, and dark brown eyes. The eyes were neutral at the moment, but the wrinkles around them told William the man was more accustomed to frowning than smiling.
“What can I do for you gentlemen?” the man finally asked. His voice had a light Jamaican accent, deepening his voice slightly.
“We’re with the NYPD,” Adam answered, quickly flashing his badge. William followed suit, but his flashing of the badge was slower than his father’s.
Adrian Bronson had feared a visit from the police for a week. At the mention of cops, his fingernails extended to long black talons. The cops were the recurring nightmare that kept him without sleep most of the night. He knew he was innocent of everything; it was his grandson that he was worried about. His grandson was a werewolf, just like he was. But Adrian knew there was something different about Andre. He didn’t know what though.
He did know his own son wasn’t as insane as Andre. His grandson had killed eight humans in the past week after turning. The bloodlust in his eyes was purely animal instinct, nothing in those eyes were anywhere close to human. It was the fact that his grandson couldn’t be controlled at all frightened Adrian the most.
Shaking his head clear, he looked at the two walking nightmares on his stoop. The younger man looked nervous as hell. Sweat matted his dirty blonde hair, ran over his blue eyes, and down his day old stubble. He was obviously a rookie. The older man was barely sweating despite the black trench coat he wore. He had gray hair that was pulled into a tight ponytail, and a three day old beard, also grey. The older man’s face used to be strongly featured, but age rounded it with wrinkles.
“Why are you here?” Adrian asked, drumming his claws against the oak door. He held his breath, hoping for the best. Please don’t be about the killings; I swear I’m gonna gently caressing kill that boy!
“A security alarm went off in your butcher shop if… you are the owner right, Adrian Bronson?” the older man asked calmly, dark blue eyes staring into Adrian’s.
Adrian nodded and released his breath slowly. He thought for a second, claws reluctantly shortening to nails. “We’re letting all of the hot air into our living room. Please, come in, get out of the heat.” He quickly said, ushering his unexpected guests into the cool room. The two men sat at on a red leather couch across from his wife and grandson, who sat in a similar couch.
Sierra, his wife nodded and smiled at the two officers. “Hello,” she said quietly as Adrian took a seat beside her on the armrest. She rested her hand on his knee and squeezed lightly, nervous. “What are your names?” she asked, showing her hospitality.
“I’m Inspector Case, and this is also Inspector Case,” the older man vaguely waved towards the younger man.
Sierra chuckled, “Father and son team huh?” Her smile was wide, cheek achingly wide. She didn’t like unexpected company in any house she was in, she sure as hell didn’t like cops. Neither did Adrian, he despised everything the cops represented.
“We like to call people by their first names…” Adrian started.
“William,” the younger man said, pointing to himself. Waves of nervousness flowed out of his eyes. William’s eyes were unfocused; he kept glancing around the room and fidgeting with his hands. His gaze always kept going back Andre. Adrian glanced at his grandson; he was looking at the floor, body tense. It wasn’t a good sign.
The older man jotted something down on a little notepad. He finally looked up, gazed at each of the family members with neutral, calm eyes. “Adam,” he finally said, indicating himself with a hand. Adrian nodded in acknowledgement. He didn’t like Adam.
William was more than nervous, he was petrified. The young man sitting across from him scared him; he was sitting with his face in his hands, staring at the ground. His hands kept clinching into fist and back against his face; William couldn't see the kid’s face, but it looked angry. He knew the feeling, he used be terrified of cops; now he was married to the toughest cop to ever walk the streets of New York. He snorted a laugh as he looked down at his wedding band.
It was the only noise in the room next to his father scribbling furiously on the notepad he held, he used his knee as a table and kept it hidden. The snort that escaped his nostrils sounded too loud in the room to him. Even though no one looked at him, he blushed and quickly put a serious look on his face; he was here to investigate a robbery. Robbery was a serious crime wasn't it? It is if it wasn’t a complete gently caressing lie, he snapped at himself. He knew no crummy butcher chop was robbed; why the gently caress would anyone want to steal from a butcher shop anyway?
None of it made any sense to him. He sighed, much quieter this time, and looked at Sierra and Adrian. Adrian was whispering something in her ears, William couldn’t hear it, but he could lip read. Looking around for something to stare at to not make his eavesdropping suspicious, he found an interesting clock behind Sierra. He could see Adrian’s mouth enough to know what he was saying.
“There’s something wrong here,” he whispered, gripping Sierra’s upper arm like a vise. Adam noticed how large Adrian’s biceps were and swallowed. He really hoped he didn’t have to go face to face with the man.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, face concerned.
“They say there here about a robbery in the butcher shop,” he snorted lightly and shook his head. “They aren’t gently caressing cops,” he hissed. Sierra jerked her head to glance at the two men in front of her. William just turned his head fast enough as her sharp gaze got to him.
William glanced at the young man; the index finger of the right hand still covering his face tapped his forehead rapidly. Andre’s fingernail tapping his head grew longer, within a second a long black talon was tapping his head, the kid didn’t appear to notice. A horrifying realization came through his head. He remembered what Sarah had told him about the killings that had plagued New York in the past week.
“Whoever’s killing these people isn’t human William,” she said, pulling the covers up to her chin, protecting her naked breasts from the cold air of their apartment. He climbed into bed and took her hand.
“That doesn’t sound right,” he said, pulling her close to him, folding his arms against her chest. She sighed heavily and shook her head, still wet blonde hair dampening his shirt. She leaned back and rested her cheek against his chest, allowing him to smell her lavender shampoo.
“The coroner said it’s an animal, but the scratch marks are partially human. And the bite marks are partially human too.”
“How is that possible, what, are you dealing with a gently caressing werewolf or other were-thing?” he asked with a chuckle. Sarah snorted and shook her head against his chest.
“God I hope not.” She said flatly, missing the humor. She and the coroner were the only people on the entire force that believed they were dealing with someone more than human.
William sighed, dipping his chin down and smelling the beautiful lavender scent of her hair. “Well, whatever the gently caress this… culprit is, you aren’t going to let them live are you?”
“No,”
His pulse started jack hammering in his veins, limbs turning into rubber. He was sitting in front of a killer, the man dubbed “The Eater” by the press was in the same room as William. He tried to calm his breathing, act like he didn't see anything, it didn’t work.
His father nudged his elbow, he looked over and the notepad was pressed in front of face. In almost illegible writing it read:
These people in front of us are not human, they must be killed.
They are werewolves. When I give the pistol to you,
You better use it.
Be quick and ruthless, and you will get out of this alive.
I am a werewolf hunter, I’m sorry I’m dragging you into
My job like this
You aren’t ready
Last edited by wolfblood17 (2010-01-12 16:36:04)
(with fangs!)Offline
|
|
|
