Ch 4: Interrogating the Boogieman

I am writing to you today from Asakusa, Tokyo, Japan. My adventures have brought me to this big, bright, beautiful city, and my new novel continues. For those just tuning in, or who are keeping up, our detectives have caught the real-life kidnapper boogie-man and are determined to get a confession out of it.  (want to learn more about my adventures in Australia and Japan? Check out my blog on niume.com)

DUN DUN.
Burgundy Monster Force Police Headquarters
2:34 AM

Ollie stared at the thing sitting across from him in the interrogation cell. The four brick walls and metal table had never felt so small.

The monster was made for the dark, but it was more grotesque in the light. With black, scaled skin half-covering the red ridges echoing its bones, it looked like the skeleton of a demon covered in a deadly snake’s skin. Ollie had interrogated humans, vamps, even giants and green-skinned goblins, but nothing like the monster in front of him. It didn’t make sense. It shouldn’t have existed.

The word incubus shouldn’t have meant anything to him. It didn’t to most people. But Ollie knew these monsters. They weren’t just ghosts, didn’t just haunt people, didn’t just drive them from their homes, drive them out of their minds. They did that and more. Nightghosts of lechery, an incubus preyed on one women—sometimes more—and haunted her incessantly, raping her, terrorizing her, turning dreams into nightmares again and again.

Sometimes at night, like his own haunting, the scene came back to Ollie; two small, sheeted lumps of children, dead in their bed, the room painted in their blood; the husband facedown on the bedroom floor in a glistening red swamp; the frail, dead wife curled up in the marital bed with a hole in her head, a pistol in one hand and a note in the other—“I had to stop him.”

“Him” wasn’t the husband. From her diary, Ollie and his then-partner, Norman Lestwinger, found the real perpetrator; pages and pages over months and months describing a malignant ghost haunting her sleep, turning her against her husband and her kids, driving her mad. An incubus.

An incubus was responsible for the family murder-suicide, there was no doubt of that. But how could they catch a creature that only hunted in nightmares? With no leads, no spells, no further clues of any kind, the police, detectives, even the Holy Office had no solution. The monster got away, free to haunt and hunt more women.

In front of him, Ollie glared into the monster’s bottomless black eyes. He didn’t know how, but this one was real, solid, not some kind of phantasm. Kids. This one hunts kids. He ground his teeth together. You’re gonna burn, you bastard.

El tossed the folder she’d been pretending to read on the metal table. “This doesn’t look good for you, Dis.” She shook her head. Given an incubi’s predatory lust for women, El agreed to play the soft role, try and be the thing’s friend. She put on a hell of a good act, but Ollie still noticed, around the strained edges of her nonchalance, that she wanted to strangle the beast.

“That’s your name, right?” She tilted her head, regarding the creature with feigned interest. “That’s what the kids said they called you. D. Dis.” She waited for a response, but the black-and-red-faced thing just stared at the scratched steel table. “They said you look after them. Is that true?”

No response. It might as well have been a hideous statute. The interrogation had gone on and on like that. El buddied up to it, flirted with it, even—nothing. Ollie intimidated, threatened—nothing. It was silent.

The burns still stood out on its face, a trail of blistered bubbles, proving it either couldn’t heal itself like a vamp could or couldn’t heal UV damage. Ollie wanted to tear its disgusting skin off.

“I know what you are,” Ollie said darkly. He felt El’s glance without looking. He’d gone off their script. Enough fucking games. “You’re an incubus.”

It’s oil-black eyes flickered. Only its lids and the smear of shine in its eyes told Ollie its gaze moved.

“Yeah. I know you. I’ve hunted your kind before. You rape women. But not you, specifically.” He paused, feeling his lips curl. “You rape children.”

Its gaze stayed on the table.

“Those kids are going to tell us what you did to them,” El said. She took up his tactic with ease. Ollie loved how well she knew him. She knew by his voice what angle he was playing. “Once they realize they’re safe, that you can’t hurt them anymore, they’ll tell us what happened.” She even managed to sound sorry for it.

“Then, you’re going to prison, Dis.” Ollie glared, but it wouldn’t look at him. “You know what vamps, giants, humans and pretty much everything with a conscience have in common? They hate pedophiles. They kill pedophiles. Worse than kill them.”

“That’s true,” El grimly agreed. “I’ve seen that. Do you know how child sex offenders survive prison, Dis? They make deals. Deals that include separation from general pop. And we can do that for you.”

They both waited, letting the offer sink in. But the monster didn’t speak.

“Which one did you do first? Did you do the girls? An incubus likes girls, right?” Ollie paused. He wanted to spit into its eyes. “Did the teenager get too old? Violet, right? You didn’t like to fuck her anymore?”

The steel handcuffs screeched against the metal table as the creature lunged at him, long fingers tipped with inch-long claws reaching for his throat. The chains welded underneath the table strained, but Ollie didn’t move. Seeing its spiny teeth bared, its eyes narrow, Ollie gave a sly grin.

Swallowing the snarl, the monster exhaled and lowered its hands. It looked away.

“So that’s what happened, huh?” Ollie folded his arms over his chest. “Did you use her to get Ruby?”

The beast returned to motionless silence.

“Did you fuck her too?”

No response.

Ollie scowled. Answer me, you little bitch. “The older one, Violet—she kinda likes it, doesn’t she?”

The monster’s glare flashed to him, black like the hollow barrel of a gun. Ollie drew a quick breath. “You shut your mouth,” it said through clenched teeth.  

That’s its sore spot. The older girl. Ollie exhaled slowly, hoping the creature didn’t notice. “Yeah, she’s pretty, huh? I can see why you like her.”

“Don’t talk about Violet.” The claws appeared again, dagger tips balanced on the edge of the table, forearms pulling against the steel cuffs.

“So how do you do it? Do you do it while she sleeps or while she’s awake? Or both?”

A deep growl, like a Rottweiler, rose from its chest.

“She says she loves you.” Ollie gave a snide laugh. “I bet she does.”

Handcuffed to the bottom of the table, the incubus had just enough slack to grab the edge. Four claws on each hand sank through the steel with a sound like a guillotine. It looked up at Ollie over a snarl. “Don’t—talk—about Violet.”

Ollie blinked, trying not to look at the monster’s claws submersed in the steel. Can this thing snap those cuffs? He waved a hand, struggling to maintain indifference. “She’s your girl, huh? Keep her just for yourself?”

“I have never touched her. I never would, you fucking pig.”

With its lips curled back, eyes black slits in its red skull face, Ollie was glad to see he finally had the thing’s attention.

“Ok, then, educate me, Dis. What does an incubus want with two pre-teens and an eight-year-old? An eight-year-old you were caught in bed with, by the way.”

“I would never hurt them.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Either unable to hold the friendly act any longer or realizing it wasn’t working, El surrendered to disdain. “Rapists never think they’re hurting anyone. That’s how you love them, right?”

“No. I never touched them. Never.”

Ollie raised an eyebrow. “Can you explain why you were in bed with a kidnapped eight-year-old, then?”

Silence. The monster pulled its fingers from the table, leaving eight narrow cuts in the steel.

“Dis, if you don’t tell us what happened, we can’t help you,” El said and waited.

“If you weren’t molesting her, tell me what you were doing, then,” Ollie said. And waited.

Nothing.

Ollie bit his lip. Two dead children and the crumpled note in the dead mother’s hand flashed through his head. I had to stop him.

Jumping up, Ollie threw his fists on the table. “Do you think you’re getting out of here? You’re not! You can sing or you can sit there, either way you’re going to fry, you sick son of a bitch!”

For a moment, everything was still.

“I’m not,” the creature said quietly.

Ollie’s glower flared, his anger boiling to a dangerous rim. “What did you say?” Don’t test me, you fuck.

“An incubus. I’m not. You’re wrong.”

Ollie sat back down, exhaling through his teeth. He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Oh, really?”

It just stared at the table.

“You’re just a human at the wrong painting party, right?” El said and looked at Ollie. “What do you think, Ollie, Halloween costume gone wrong?”

“I’m half-incubus,” it said.

Ollie snorted. “Ok, I’ll bite. So, what, your dad get busy with a succubus? That’s a fun family dinner.”

“Succubi only produce other incubi and succubi, idiot,” the creature snapped. “Just as human women produce other humans. Or—almost humans.”

Ollie leaned back, shaking his head. “So?”

The monster’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck, you cops really are stupid. Do I have to spell it out for you? My mother was haunted by an incubus. She had a tainted child.”

Ollie ran his tongue behind his teeth, frowning. “Uh-huh, yeah, I got that part. What I don’t get is how you expect me to believe that horseshit. There has never been a report of a ‘half-incubus’ being born, ever.”

“And no true incubus has ever been seen in the flesh,” it argued. “That’s because they can’t exist in your world, they live in the Darkness, the nightmare realm. Why do you think you’ve never caught one? And how many have been reported? Hundreds. Thousands.”

Ollie gestured to the monster. “Yet, here you are. In the flesh.”

“I’m not a true incubus.”

“Well, then, where are all the other half-incubi?”

 “Do you think a mother wants anyone to know they had a child that looks like me?” The monster pointed its black claws at itself. “If they are ever born, the mothers drown them, suffocate them, burn them. And no cop would prosecute a mother who did, or get justice for the spawn of an incubus.”

Ollie snorted. “Ok, yeah, that’s probably true, you are eight kinds of ugly.” He waved a hand. “So why are you special? How’d you survive?”

“My mother hated me, but she was not a murderer. And I’m not special. There are others like me. Half breeds. We stay hidden.”

Ollie wasn’t convinced. “If I knew a woman who had a kid that looked like you, I think I’d fucking notice.”

The creature’s eyes fell. “Not if she kept it locked in a basement.” Its long hands flexed and impossibly thin wrists, as thin as bone, pulled against the handcuffs.

“Is that what happened? She locked you in a basement?”

It didn’t answer.

“That’s a sad story, Dis.” Ollie cocked his head. “Is that why you prey on children?”

It looked up, eyes narrow. “The incubus ruined my mother’s life, destroyed her soul, drove her insane, I watched it happen. I would never do what it did, not to anyone.”

Ollie threw up his hands. “Well then, help me out, because I’m having trouble putting this together. What were you doing with the kids?”

“Nothing,” it said, reaching with open hands.

Ollie pointed a finger. “No, not nothing, not fucking nothing, or they’d still be in their homes. So, I’ll ask you again—what are you doing with them?”

The monster shook its head and Ollie read exasperation on its skull face. He didn’t like it—the thing shouldn’t have been able to express anything. “What’s the point in telling you?” it said. “You won’t believe me.”

“Probably not. But, hey,” he shrugged “look at where you are. What have you got to lose?”

The creature turned away, looking at the wall. “They came to you first,” it said quietly. “Parents. Teachers. Cops. And you returned them to their abusers. I protect them.”

Ollie studied the creature. “What are you talking about?”

“The people that hit them. Violated them. Humiliated them. Other humans did those things. You look around for a monster to blame—look in the fucking mirror. Where were you when they asked for help?” It looked back, eyes flashing like black daggers, and its quiet voice turned to a snarl. “Nowhere. You never gave a shit about the child hiding in the basement.”

Ollie took a breath. “You know, with a face like yours, a history of abuse won’t win sympathy with a jury.”

“I wasn’t talking about me.”

Ollie’s gaze drifted across the table, dark in thought. “These kids were abused, so you kidnapped them to save them, is that what you’re telling me?” He looked back up. “Ok, fine. Why would you do that? What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why bother?”

The creature shook its head, outrage glowing on its disfigured face. “Why bother? Why bother? Because I know what it’s like to sit in the dark. I know what it’s like to fear your parents, to wake up every day and wonder if today is the day they’ll kill you. I know what it’s like to know that no one is coming to help you, no one cares.” Leaning in, its claws screeched down the table. “Why did I bother? Because I starved in a basement for fourteen years. So I knew you wouldn’t bother.”