Blood Red

She moved with a grace known only to a few creatures ever, none of them awkward and human, and despite her fear, despite the desperation and grief that wanted to crush her down, she felt fully, wonderfully alive.

Then the houses were past, and Kelli was running harder still, faster, fast enough to leave the dead things behind. She could have laughed she felt so good.

Alas, she could not fly. As the ground dropped away beneath her and she saw the ocean stretching across the horizon—her vision so perfect that even the thick fog failed to stop her from seeing—she came to the simple understanding that all things must end. Her flight from the monsters was done, and that too was a fine thing.

Kelli arched her body out as gracefully as she could and turned her drop toward the teeth of the bay into a dive. Her death was mercifully quick.

Far above her, above even the horde of shadowy forms that stumbled to a stop at the edge of the cliffs, Jason Soulis looked down upon the waters where the pretty girl from across the street had ended her grief, ensuring that she would never be his.

He brought his hands together three times in sharp applause and then spread his arms wide as he bowed low before her remains. With no weapons and no time to prepare for the threat he had presented her, she had drawn blood and killed one of his own. In the end she had won, and he always respected a worthy adversary.

IV

Around the same time that Kelli Entwhistle was making her final curtain call, Boyd and Danny were listening to O’Neill finally lose his temper. He could, he admitted, have possibly been out of line when he made his comments the other day about being disappointed in their performance. Nancy Whalen and Bob Longwood had been in earlier and had gone on and on about how well they had handled themselves and how, without them, Brian Freemont would still be making fools of the police force and having his way with the young ladies at the local universities.

That part had all been good and, doubtless, was planned to make them feel all warm and fuzzy inside, so when he came down like the wrath of God, they would be ill prepared.

Yeah, like they didn’t know they were in deep shit for losing the cop who had been raping the local girls.

And yeah, like Boyd wasn’t prepared for that part.

What he wasn’t prepared for was that Brian’s remains had been found in his house. And outside of it. And in the neighbor’s yard. And in the trees.

There was no way in hell there could ever be an open casket ceremony for Brian Freemont.

And O’Neill was letting them know he wasn’t happy. He let them know for almost an hour before he was done. Boyd was thinking he might need hearing aids in the near future.

O’Neill gave them written warnings and told them to get the fuck out of his face for the next month or so.

“What I should do is have your sorry asses booked on suspicion just to make you sweat.” He must have been practicing his mean face in the mirror. It was almost working like he wanted it to.

“Are we done here?” Boyd sat in his chair like a good boy, his arms crossed over his chest to avoid giving the captain a proper ass-kicking.

“No, Boyd, we’re not done by half.”

“Are you firing us, Captain O’Neill?”

“No.”

“Are you arresting us?”

“No.” The man didn’t like where the questions were going. Boyd could tell.

“Are you giving us formal reprimands?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Give them over and shut the fuck up. I got work to do and I’m already behind.”

“How dare you?”

“It’s easy, you’re a bitch. You wanna fire me, I’ll always find another job. You wanna have me arrested? Go ahead. I’ll own your little ass for an ashtray by the time the lawyers are done. You wanna reprimand me, do your stuff. It’s within your rights. You wanna yell at someone? Go marry a weak-willed little woman, because I ain’t got the time for you or any of your bullshit.”

Boyd stood there with his hand out waiting for the reprimand until the captain handed it over. He signed where he was supposed to, made a rude comment where he was asked for his side of the situation on paper, and then took his copy. Danny took his and did the same thing, but without as many foul words.

Boyd waited until they were out of the building before he called his partner a suck-up.

“I think he’d have fired us if he had anyone lined up to take over the cases.” Danny was sounding all philosophical now.

“I think he needs to fuck off and die slowly.”

“We did lose a perp . . .”

“No, Danny, he was stolen.”

“Yeah. By flying girls.”

“How is it our fault if some missing persons show up and start flying around?”

“Well, we were supposed to find them.”

“And we did. We saw them. They’re found. Six fucken cases closed, just like that.”

“What did you write on your reply?”

“That if O’Neill could lick his own dick he’d have a marketable skill.”

“You’re lying.” Danny was grinning again.

“I only lie to suspects, Danny. Otherwise it’s just an omission of the facts as they may or may not pertain to the case.”

“Your girlfriend stuck up for you.”