Blaze Monroe- The Complete Series Boxset Page 2

  “Forty-eight hours?”

  “Yeah. Forty-eight.”

  “And how long has it been?”

  “Less than that,” I answer regrettably. “But, I mean, come on. All it takes is a text. I didn’t even get anything from Joel about how I let his daughter run off.”

  “Nothing from Papa Ray, huh?”

  “Exactly. It’s weird. Doesn’t help that Sailor’s pissed at me.”

  “Shit. Yeah, well I’ll be sure to ask around and see what I can come up with.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to give them a bit more time before I reach out to them. They could be in a spotty place with bad service... I don’t know, man. I’m trying to stay positive.”

  “If you don’t hear back from them by tomorrow night, then you have something to be worried about. Keep me in the loop, yeah?”

  “Will do, Roc. Be easy.”

  “Yeah, you too.”

  I hang up on him and stare down my meal. Truth be told, that conversation killed my appetite. Sailor and her father are worrying me sick.

  After I slug through my meal, I go back to the motel. I halfway expected to see her car out front, but the lot was filled with the same variety of cars as before. Neither Sailor’s nor her dad’s was anywhere in sight.

  I open the door to my room and immediately make my way back to the chair in front of the coffee table and flip open my laptop. Joel had given me some notes on the task he’d left for us, and I took the liberty to transfer my knowledge onto a device I could easily manage. I’m not old-school like him. He and the other old-heads have a thing for notebooks...almost like a log...as if it’s cool to have an easily accessible paper trail surrounding your actions. Right. Yeah. It’s ridiculous.

  I scroll through my notes to freshen up, but my mind finds itself wandering back to Sailor and her whereabouts.

  Forty-eight hours? That’s way too much time. Anything can happen. I could already be too late.

  I dig out my phone and find her name in the contacts. No way she isn’t up by now...it’s past noon. I start to type out a text but sling my phone onto the table.

  She’s fine. Stop acting crazy... You’ve got work to do. Sailor can take care of herself.

  Joel wasn’t too big on the details. He even kept the majority of it a secret from Sailor. It was better that way, she told me. Less chance for failure. She told me what was going on would be discussed at the camp...once everyone who was going to go, was getting ready to leave. In hindsight, he gave us a timeframe, but not much else. Was it one location, two? Three? Were they splitting up? With the information he knew, he was confident—he was also confident that Sailor and I would be able to handle the case that he assigned to us in the meantime, provided we put in the effort.

  It isn’t like a haunted site or anything. He explained that there was more to it. Of course, with Sailor gone, that only complicates things. I’m not too sure on how to tackle it now, and it might take more than an actual day to do. Things have been quiet around here, to be frank. Especially considering the killings going around. And there’ll only be more the longer this drags out.

  ...Crap. I reach for my phone and dial up Rocco.

  “Hey, Roc?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Just checking in with you. I’m going hunting tonight.”

  “Sailor and Joel came back?”

  “...No, but I’m still going to go out. It’s dumb, I know, and I might change my mind, but I’m going crazy over here. I need to get my mind off of things.”

  “You still got time, man. They may come back earlier than you think,” he answers. I must have gotten him while he was eating because saying his mouth is occupied, is an understatement. He’s not even trying to hide it.

  “...Yeah, yeah I know. Just considering. If she’s late or something, we have a job to do. I’d rather stop what’s going on before any more bodies pop up.”

  “And risk losing your own?” he asks.

  “There’s always a risk,” I remind him.

  “True. That’s true, but that doesn’t give you a right to be dumb just because you’re a little love sick.” Rocco pauses and sighs. “...What are you hunting?”

  “A werewolf.”

  “Lycanthropy... A single wolf, huh? You know they hunt in packs, right? They do pretty much everything in packs.”

  “Yeah. I know. But from what I’m seeing, evidence is pointing towards a singular wolf. Can’t be one hundred percent sure, but that’s what I’ve got from the information gathered.”

  “Yeah, don’t take that chance. You really want to square-up with a wolf? You’re a tough guy, Blaze, but let’s be real. Take it slow. Seriously. One bite and it’s all over. Then what? You’ll be one of them if it doesn’t eat you. Being a wolf is a disease. Incurable. Look, you know how it goes... How’s the kill pattern? Are they centered around full moons?” I scroll through my notes in search of the records of the killings attributed to the case. “Blaze? Hello?” Apparently, it takes longer than Rocco expected.

  “Chill out. Give me a second. I’m looking.” I search a bit more and find the details. “Yeah, the killings are in the vicinity, but not exactly on the dates that line up with a full moon. At least, not all of them. It’s...erratic.”

  “Well, that can mean a lot of things. A fresh wolf...a lone wolf,” he clarifies. “Be on your toes. The toxin makes you go a bit insane. Your brain never really resets from it. It just gets deeper into your system and it adapts.”

  “It becomes part of who you are, yeah, I know. Every infection is different, but no one is ever the same after they’ve turned.”

  “Right, but if it’s really a lone wolf, you’re dealing with a natural.”

  “Maybe, but, this one is piss-poor at covering tracks. Missing livestock and more recently, bodies. It’s almost like he gave up.”

  “Or marking its territory,” Roc muses. “It takes a lot to break away from a pack. Family is family, no matter how screwed up they are. Take a look around you.”

  “Good point.”

  The world is totally different for you when you’re alone.

  “Play it safe, B. I mean it. If you get bit, I doubt you’d be the type to stick around... No, but seriously, get your info straight before you wind up getting yourself in a sticky situation. There’s no do-overs on this one.”

  “Word. I know how it goes. I’ll keep in touch.”

  “Remember, research.”

  “Yeah, I got it, Roc. Always. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  “Well, don’t make it your last. Make sure your silver is the real deal. No nickel... And wait for Sailor and her pops.”

  “Bye, Roc.” I hang up the phone and recommit my focus back to my laptop. There’s three down-right slaughters in the last four months with similar patterns classified as an animal attack and about a half a dozen people missing over the course of a year. Some of those might not be related, but if a werewolf’s set up shop, that could be part of the deal. I’ve learned that there isn’t really such a thing as coincidences. It’s just the question of if we’re stupid enough to let it fly right under our noses.

  The deaths and other incidents tied to the case are local to this area. More specifically, the forested parts. It’s a common move, really. A forested area is a perfect place to ice someone. It gives deniability, hence what I’m reading right now. It’d be different if they hunted people in plain sight...but no one is that stupid. Turned or not, survival is the name of the game, and survival means not getting caught in the first place...so why the sloppiness now? Revenge? Politics? Jealousy?

  What would make a werewolf go flying off the handle, besides the obvious?

  A lack of control.

  When you turn, parts of your personality stay the same, sure, but there’s like an aggressive pipeline that all your actions filter through...a power-trip backed by intense urges. To put things in the simplest terms, you become a monster with a very short fuse and a touch of insanity.

  I lean back in my chair, ment
ally preparing for where I have to start with the case.

  According to what I’ve got, the most recent bodies that were found have been mangled, but if you look back, you can see that there was one in significantly better condition when it was found. A female who was bitten on the neck. The wolf didn’t stop there, though. It wasn’t a simple bite. The skin surrounding it was torn, as if the wolf yanked its teeth from her rather than just a bite and release. If the wolf was looking to turn her, there’s a thousand other places to be bit. The arm, for instance, or shoulder; both easily accessible judging from the way she died. He didn’t necessarily feed on her, either, as the body was kept virtually intact. As far as the lone wolf theory goes, he could have tried to turn her but got overzealous. Maybe the girl made a scene and fought back...had some silver on her—something—and he had to make a run for it. I’m not sure. There’re a lot of variables, and I’m sure there’s a different angle I can approach it from, but this one, however seems to be the clearest at face-value.

  The wolf treated Hailey Moss different than the others, but why? What caused it to have a change of heart?

  There’s only one way to find out. And that means I have to dig deeper.

  Chapter 4: Aging Out

  FORTY-EIGHT HOURS...seriously?

  I look at the screen of my cell, disheartened by the digital digits. And no new messages, either. I sigh and yank the keys from my ignition, my eyes still glued to my phone.

  You’re scaring me, Sailor Ray. Give me something.

  I watch the screen for a little longer, hoping my plea somehow made it to her and I get a notification. Of course, there’s nothing. I lock my screen and shove my phone back into my pocket, fully prepared for what I have to do.

  Hailey lived here...at least at one point from what I’ve gathered. If I was a little bit younger, this could have been me.

  I step out my car and walk towards the entrance of the orphanage, taking note of the two gargoyles perched on both sides of the concrete railing bordering the stairs. They’re supposed to keep evil away, but I haven’t had much luck with them.

  Putting my smug thoughts aside, I lightly tap my knuckles against the wooden door while my other hand rests in the side pocket of my denim jacket. I pull back away from the door and stare into a door cam located conveniently against the frame and awkwardly wave before stepping back out of view.

  It takes a while, but the door opens. A woman steps forward with her hair in a tight bun and glasses that matches her suit and pencil skirt; both black with white accents. She lingers on the edge of the door frame, careful not to intrude on my personal space, but at the same time, be inviting.

  To be honest, it’s a little standoffish, but in their defense, I did show up uninvited and I don’t exactly look like I’m ready to adopt.

  “Hello, how may I assist you today? Do you have an appointment?”

  “Appointment? Not exactly, no. This was more of a spur of the moment thing in a way. Is there any way I can talk to the head of this place? I have a couple questions about someone that used to stay here.”

  “How recently?” she asks.

  “It’s hard to say, really...about a year ago? She recently passed. You may have heard of her. Hailey. Hailey Moss. She was a friend of my sister’s...they met after her time here,” I lie. “We knew she had a brother but we couldn’t locate him after the service they held for Hailey. My sister wanted to share some kind words and I guess look for some closure of her own, but we didn’t have a way to contact her brother. She was a good friend. I was wondering if there was any way we could get the brother’s contact information or at least an emergency contact number of someone that they know so that we can possibly get in touch.” I softly sigh and briefly direct my gaze at my shoes. “I know it’s an odd request, but this is pretty much the only option we have left. Can you see what you can do? I’d appreciate it.”

  She purses her lips and squints her brow for a moment before finally answering. “Please, please come inside.” She steps to the side and gestures me in. The building is in a lot better shape than I thought it would be. High ceilings, decent decorations, and furniture—definitely not what you see on TV, quality wise, at least. It’s good to know at least that there’s some funding...enough to keep the place presentable for those looking to adopt and hopefully for the children that live here. If not, there’ll be another visit, but under different pretenses. We only walk a couple feet before she directs me to another room. A subsidiary. “Have a seat.” She gestures with an open palm, directing me to one of the fine polished chairs along an adjacent wall with pamphlets and brochures on the coffee table in front of them. “Mr. Walter will be with you shortly. Can I have a name?”

  “Russell,” I say without skipping a beat. “And can you tell him I have questions concerning Hailey Moss, please? Thank you.”

  The lady nods and smiles politely before excusing herself behind another door, leaving me alone to wait in the lobby. I reach for one of the pamphlets, but hesitate at the last second, noticing the security camera in the top corner of the room. I don’t want any trouble, and I doubt they’ll give me any, but it’s always good to know these things in case something pops up. I’m not as armed as I’d like to be. All the material for heavy lifting is in my car.

  As long as they don’t suspect anything, there’s no reason to try anything on me. The victims are too far apart, timewise, and this location isn’t even remotely close to a forested area. Not to mention there’s children around. No way they’re keeping something under wraps—unless they’re turning the children behind closed doors. Crap. That’s absolutely a possibility...and it wouldn’t take much for a victim to fall between the cracks of the system. It happens enough even without the interference of the supernatural.

  I fish out my phone and do a quick check for messages, but there’s nothing from Sailor or her dad. Forty-eight hours, Blaze. Keep it together. They’ll get back to you when they can. You’ve got a job to do. Stay focused before you end up getting killed.

  I shoot off a text to Roc, letting him know I made it inside the orphanage and that I’ll follow up with him once I’m done. I put my phone away and try my best to not look preoccupied. From where I’m sitting, if I try hard enough, I can hear the screams and laughs of children doing whatever it is that kids do. If they’d let me get a quick tour of the place, that’d be great. I can look for seals or something—anything that would indicate that something supernatural is afoot. It’s unlikely that they’ll let me run off unattended, not with kids around. I’m pretty sure I blew my chance with that. I already made it clear that I’m here in relation to Hailey, who hasn’t been around in quite some time.

  It’d be weird to randomly look around. Creepy, at worst, odd, at best.

  The door in front of me opens and my attention immediately snaps to the older man who holds onto the knob as he steps through. “Mr. Russell?” he asks.

  “Mr. Walter.” I nod and stand from my chair, both my hands resting in my jacket.

  “Right this way, if you will.” I brush past him and pause, letting him lead the way. He smiles and nods as he passes me but doesn’t say a thing. We go up a flight of stairs and into an office, passing a handful of kids on the way.

  “Who is that, Mr. Walter?” one of the younger ones asks right as we reach his office, separating himself from the others in the process.

  “A friend of mine who wants to talk,” he answers in a warm tone. “I’ll be done shortly. Give us a moment. Remember what I told you to do when adults are talking? We need our space and privacy.” The young child looks at me, his hand no longer gripping the excess fabric of Mr. Walter’s suit pants. His expression is blank, but quickly blossoms into a smile that catches me off guard. I smile back on reflex and then chuckle to myself, surprised that I reacted the way I did. Kids always seem to have a way of making people smile. It’s their superpower. Even if they are prone to throwing a tantrum over the most random things and drag you into their nonsensical kid-drama.

/>   Mr. Walter glances behind him and addresses the child with a stern look. The child then scurries off into one of the corridors, giggling goofily.

  “Cute kid,” I say to Mr. Walter. A brief laugh escapes his lips as he opens the door to his office.

  “Make yourself at home,” he says as I enter and sit in one of the chairs stationed in front of his desk. “So, what brings you here today, Mr. Russel?” he says on the way to his desk. “My colleague said you were curious about a previous resident here at the orphanage, correct?”

  “Yes,” I answer. “Hailey Moss. Do you remember her?”

  “I do. Lovely girl. It’s a shame what happened to her.”

  “Yeah. Animal attack. She was out in the woods. Highly unfortunate. She was a friend of my sister’s.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, sir.” I nod. “I didn’t know Hailey that well, but I’m trying to be supportive. People mourn in different ways.”

  “That they do. It’s best to give her time and be there when she needs you.”

  “I agree. That’s kinda why I’m here now.” I reach into my jacket and pull out a silver necklace with a ring bound to a chain. “This was Hailey’s,” I lie. “She gave it to my sister a while back and she wanted to give it to her brother.”

  “Phillip?”

  “Yeah.” I bring the necklace forward and position it towards him, gesturing for him to pick it up. “It’s real nice. Silver,” I say casually. Mr. Walter keeps his face straight as he analyzes the ring for a split-second. He picks up the chain without a thought, studies it, and places it back into my hand with ease. Definitely not a werewolf.

  “It is, indeed.”

  “Exactly,” I say after I tuck the necklace away and out of sight, relieved that there was no need to fight. All I have on me is a silver knife, and of course, the necklace—not the best weapon of choice, but enough to show that you mean business. Fighting in close-quarters would be a gamble, but I wasn’t going to bring a firearm in a building loaded with kids. All it takes is one misplaced bullet to end up with innocent blood on your hands. Plus, a mid-day hunt is hardly ideal in this situation. Cameras, witnesses, security...it wouldn’t go well by any means. I wouldn’t ice him unless he came after me. Besides, my story is plausible and he doesn’t know I’m a hunter. In his eyes, the silver could have been a fluke. One that he could have easily played off. Thankfully, that wasn’t a bridge we had to cross. “The necklace is nice, and it’d be a nice keepsake. Something to remember his sister by. We saw him at the funeral, but he wanted his space and ducked off before we had a chance to contact him. My sister said he wasn’t much of a talker. Real quiet,” my voice drifts off, “...but she thinks he would appreciate the gesture. We tried looking him up on social media, but he doesn’t seem to keep up with any of that. Do you have any idea as to how I can contact him? We don’t have an address, unfortunately. I was hoping that maybe you had a number for him on file or anything like that. Anything helps, really.”