Брайан Макклеллан - Uncanny Collateral

There’s nothing alive inside that house. It wasn’t just the words Maggie used that brought me to a standstill, but the tone in which she said them. They were whispered angrily, with a slight hiss like a cornered cat. My tusks began to emerge on their own, and I had to force them back down, painfully, through my tender gums.

What do you mean? I asked her.

I mean that house if full of corpses, Maggie replied. Something isn’t right here. You should go. Now.

I raised my eyebrows. I was a little beat up from yesterday, but Maggie knew better than anyone that I could take care of myself in a scrap. My heart began to hammer. Is there danger? I asked.

Yes.

What is it?

I don’t know. You should go.

Despite Maggie’s warnings, I inched closer. There could be answers in this house – answers worth a little risk. Heart hammering, I drew my Glock, holding it at the ready, and rounded the mailbox. Maggie remained silent. I could feel her uncertainty like a weight in the pit of my stomach. I crossed the caved-in porch carefully and looked through the doorway.

The door wasn’t just open; it had been ripped from its hinges and lay inside the dimly lit front room. Ammonia made my eyes water as I squinted at the inside and caught my first whiff of death. With a deep breath, I hopped a broken porch plank and stepped inside. Something squelched beneath my boots, and it took me a few moments to realize that the ratty old carpet was literally soaked with blood. I froze in my tracks and took in the scene.

The living room was covered in the pieces of what had once been six or seven imps. A head sat in the center of the room as if carefully placed there to watch for intruders. It was surrounded by arms, legs, and bits of flesh and innards literally strewn about the place like confetti. The blood spatter across the walls was so thick that at first I thought it had been painted on. I gagged, swallowed bile, and forced myself across the squishing carpet.

The kitchen had another two dead imps inside. These appeared more or less intact. One had been disemboweled from behind as he’d tried to flee toward the back door, and the other had his throat torn out. He still held an unfired shotgun in his stiff hands. Broken glass, metal plates, and single-burner cooktops covered the entire kitchen – the shattered remnants of a rather extensive meth lab. The back door was also open, its ripped screen door creaking in the breeze.

Look down. Maggie told me.

I looked at my feet to see a single enormous footprint. It was at least eighteen inches long and six inches wide. One big pad and three little ones, along with four toes and the scratches of big talons, were distinctly outlined by the blood. The footprint was clearly pointed toward the door, as if whatever made it had killed these last two imps as an afterthought as it leapt into the night.

Werewolf? Maggie asked.

Possibly, I told her, sniffing for the telltale scent of wet dog. I couldn’t get anything over the ammonia burn in my nostrils. I went back into the other room and checked a torso. Bite marks covered the shoulder and stomach. Whatever had been here very clearly gnawed on the poor bastards. No self-respecting werewolf I know about would eat imp meat, not even in a fury. It would have to be starving. Maybe a wendigo?

They usually don’t come this far south. And they wouldn’t eat imp, either. Not when there’s plenty of isolated houses around here where they could grab a fresh human.

I did a quick circuit of the house, using my phone to take pictures of the carnage in the living room and kitchen and three more bodies I found in the back bedroom. I stepped outside and allowed myself a moment to dry heave into the bushes before dialing a number.

“Yeah?” a voice answered.

“Justin,” I said. “That address you sent me this morning? I just got here. Something very big and angry got here before me and killed everyone in the house. Send a team out here right away. And no, I’m not going to wait. I’m getting the hell out of here before whatever it is decides to come back for a snack.” I hung up and went around the side of the house.

You’re definitely getting out of here, right? Maggie asked.

In a moment, I said. I told myself that the dread in my stomach was just from seeing those corpses. There wasn’t anything in these woods but me and the dead, and nobody would be here from OtherOps for at least forty minutes. I needed to look around. I walked the perimeter of the yard quickly, hoping to find more evidence of whatever had done this. Strangely, I found nothing – no more bloody prints, and not even any bent grass or broken branches from something large blundering into the underbrush.

I checked each of the cars. None seemed damaged or disturbed in any way. One still had the keys in the ignition and the driver’s-side door open, as though an imp had stopped by to grab something from the house and been caught in the butchery.

I circled the house two more times before heading over to the remnants of the bonfire. It was a pile of ash perhaps seven feet across, with small refuse and twigs still half burned around the edges. The head of a child’s doll lay nearby, with a matching foot among the remaining trash. I picked up a stick and poked around in the ash, wondering if this bonfire had happened before or after the deaths of the imps.

Alek.

What is it? I replied.

Time to go.

Is OtherOps here already? I tilted my head, listening for the sound of a car, and then realized Maggie was whispering again.

No. We’re being watched.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I casually got to my feet, Glock still gripped in one hand, and circled the bonfire while glancing cautiously toward the tree line. Human? Maybe a neighbor?

Definitely not. Whatever it is, my sorcery slides right past it.

I swallowed hard and resisted the urge to run toward my car. I may be a tough son of a bitch, but I had no interest in tangling with something that could mow through this many imps without, apparently, missing a beat. I took a deep breath. Can you give me a location?

No. Just leave. She sounded genuinely worried. She might be a powerful Other, but she was trapped on my finger, and I was mostly human.

I took a few steps toward the car when something caught my eye – a glint among the ashes of the bonfire. I knelt quickly, reaching into the warm ash, and plucked out a small mirror. I forgot my fear immediately and began sifting through the ash. Within moments I had three more mirrors in my hands.

I fled toward the car, and didn’t even breathe until I was back on the interstate. The mirrors lay on the passenger seat. I couldn’t stop glancing at them or my rearview mirror.

We aren’t being followed, Maggie informed me.

Any idea what that was back there? I asked. A cold sweat trickled down the small of my back.

The killer, or whatever, was watching us?

Either. Both.

No on both accounts.

Maggie is very good at knowing things. It’s what jinn do. The fact that she couldn’t pinpoint the creature we were dealing with made me more nervous than the bodies.

Are those mirrors what I think they are? she asked.

Soul mirrors, I confirmed. Those imps were definitely working the same job as the ones we killed downtown.

They’re working for someone else right under Kappie’s nose.

I lifted one of the mirrors, taking my eyes off the road long enough to get a good, long look at it. Unless I was mistaken, this mirror had an occupant: one of Ferryman’s missing souls. And I was willing to bet that whoever was employing the imps also had them killed to cover his tracks.