CH 5: The Boogeyman and His Lawyer

The plot thickens!

My travels have, oddly, brought me back around to Asakusa, a neighborhood of Tokyo that I've become particularly fond of. Between work and traveling, I've spent too long away from my new book though! A friend recently asked me what she needed to know to catch up in the story. I told her, "Detectives apprehend the Boogeyman, who has allegedly kidnapped 3 children. They want to nail him, but everyone deserves a defense. Attorney Nabila Sangare has come to defend Dis, the incubus, the Boogeyman."
***I should also note that this is a crime/dark fantasy story. If you are not comfortable with fiction dealing with sex crimes, this probably isn't for you.

DUN DUN

Burgundy Monster Force Interrogation Room
4:34 AM

Waiting until the heavy steel door closed behind the detectives, attorney Nabila Sangare sat down in the stiff chair across from the monster. As she opened her leather-bound folder on the table, she tried to look it in the eyes. Even hunched over, its black eyes fixed on the table, it was hard to look at.

“Dis, is it?” She forced herself to look at the tall, skeletal thing. With a black sweatshirt and sweatpants draped over its emaciated body, it wore the clothes of a human like an unconvincing costume. Sangare had dealt with many strange cases, strange creatures, but nothing like this. The young girl had warned her that her “adoptive father”—Dis, the monster handcuffed to the table—looked frightening. He looked like a creature that haunted nightmares. And he might’ve been exactly that.

He looked up, his eyelids shifting with his glistening gaze. There was life in those oil-black eyes. There shouldn’t have been, but there was.

“Dis, I’m here to help you. Do you know how attorney-client privilege works? Do you know what I’m here to do?”

He was silent, his black and red face not moving. Sangare wondered if there was some kind of magic hidden in that stillness.

“I’m here to give you a legal defense. The prosecution, the state,” she gestured to the door, “those detectives are going to do everything they can to put these charges on you.” She looked down at the folder and swallowed a grimace. “Five counts of assaulting a police officer, resisting arrest, three counts of kidnapping, one count of indecent conduct with a minor child. I’m here to help you tell your side of the story.”

It kept looking at her, but didn’t answer. Sangare avoided its obsidian gaze.

“You can tell me everything or you can tell me nothing, it’s your choice, but the less you tell me the less I can help.”

It blinked. “That’s what they said.”

“The detectives? I’m sure they did. They wanted you to confess. But I’m not a cop. I’m your advocate in the courtroom. Did they tell you that you had a right to an attorney?” She waited. She needed the thing to trust her and that started with dialogue. If it wouldn’t at least talk to her, it would never trust her.

“Yes, I think so.”

“I’m that attorney. Anything you tell me, I can give you your legal options and make a defense for you. I cannot prosecute you, I cannot put you in jail, I cannot tell anyone anything about what you’ve told me. Do you understand?”

Its eyes narrowed. “Why would you help me?”

Sangare blinked, taken aback. “I’m a public defender, that’s my job.”

That narrow-eyed look remained.

“Everyone accused of a crime gets a defense, they get a defender. That’s how the justice system works.”

The angry incredulity turned to confusion. Its gaze fell. “Even me?”

“Yes. Even you. And I will give you the best defense I can.”

The creature was quiet. Sangare opened her mouth to speak again, but it looked up.

“Do you think I did the things they say?”

Sangare shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“If you think I hurt the children—did what they accuse me of—you’d never defend me.”

She took a breath. “To be honest, I don’t know you. But I can see Violet cares about you. All the children do. So, no, I don’t think you hurt them.” She hoped it couldn’t see through her practiced lie. She hoped it didn’t have some kind of magic to see through her.

It looked at the table. The chains on the cuffs clinked as the monster scratched at the eight punctures on the table. Sangare eyed the marks, realizing with a start that the creature’s fingernails made the marks. It punctured the steel? Skeletal thin, it didn’t look capable of that kind of strength. It had to be magic.

“Did they tell you what I am?” it asked.

Sangare held her breath, looking up from the gouges in the table. “Yes.”

“And you still think I’m innocent?”

“I don’t judge people on what they are.” It’s enough to know what they’ve done.

He looked up at her again. In its gaunt, red-painted face and black eyes, something broke through the monstrous mask. Desperation. Fear.

“I didn’t do what they say. I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I never hurt them.”

Sangare gave a firm nod she knew was convincing. “I believe you.”

He leaned in and his voice got quiet. Sangare resisted the urge to pull away. “Don’t let them put me in a cell. I’ll lose my mind. Please.”

Telling the officers that she didn’t feel she was in any danger from the incubus, nor was Dis in danger of fleeing, they begrudgingly unlocked his handcuffs.

Sangare watched it—It? Him? She hadn’t decided—massage its thin wrists and gratefully flex its long, wide hands, the same way every other defendant did. It looked down at the snaked chains on the floor with a glint of fear in its eyes.

Him, she determined. Though her client was not human, he had fear. And if he had fear, he might have remorse, which was more than she could say about some of her human clients. And, for that matter, some of her human colleagues.

“Dis, that is your name, correct? Or is it a nickname?”

The incubus folded his hands in his lap. “It’s my name.” He spoke quietly, slowly, as if unsure of the words. In the glaring fluorescent light, he kept his head low, bony shoulders hunched. At first, the posture appeared to be the natural shape of his skeleton, a tall monster that loomed over others. But when she looked closer, she saw nervousness in his flickering gaze. He glanced sidelong at the close brick walls and scrunched inward, as if afraid he might be crushed.

“What’s your last name?”

It took him a moment to speak. “I don’t have one.”

“What was your father’s last name?”

He glanced up, but said nothing.

“Your father was an incubus, is that right?”

He nodded.

“Did you ever see…” she paused. Him? It? That question again. “Him?” If it rapes, it’s a man, no matter what else it is.

Dis shook his head.

“What about your mother, what was her last name? Your mother was human, correct?”

He considered it. “I don’t want to say.”

“Why not?”

“She didn’t want anyone to know. About me.”

Sangare made a note on the page in front of her. “Is you mother still alive?”

“No.”

He killed her. It was a sudden thought she was glad didn’t show on her face. “How did she die?”

He hesitated. “She killed herself.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He didn’t respond.

“If she’s gone though, I think you can say her last name.”

He shook his head again. “I don’t want to say.”

At the top of the file, she wrote Dis Smith. Productive start, she thought sourly. I don’t even know his real name. “All right. Can you tell me the kids’ names?”

A moment of consideration slipped by. “Violet, Theo and Ruby.”

She made a note. “Last names?”

He looked up. “No.”

“Dis, you must know that, even if you’re somehow cleared of the charges against you tomorrow, those kids won’t come back with you. If they don’t go back to their families, they’ll go to foster care. If you really care about them…” She studied the creature. “What do you think is best?”

His eyes flickered, polished black gems shifting in the light. “They can’t go back.”

Sangare was about to argue, but stopped. There was something dark in his voice. “What do you mean? Why not?”

He took a breath, his thin shoulders rising. Sangare realized it was the first time she’d seen him breathe. “I can’t say.”

She set the pen down. The rows of blank whiteness and empty lines on the papers in front of her glared. “Dis, if you don’t help me, I can’t defend you. I can tell you that returning those kids to their families is the only thing that will make bail possible. As it is, a dark magic cre—humanoid,” she quickly corrected, “they will hold you in remand. Ninety percent of defendants accused of a violent crime—like assaulting a police officer—who also use black magic are held in remand.”

He shook his head. “What does that mean?”

Sangare’s brow furrowed. Doesn’t he watch TV? “It means without bail. You stay in jail until your trial.”

His eyes widened, a true show of fear on his terrifying face that seemed impossible.

“But if the kids are returned to their families, we may be able to negotiate bail.”

With one clawed finger, he picked at the gouges in the steel table.

“So, tell me their names.” She raised her pen.

He kept picking, making a screeching sound that scratched Sangare’s skull. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I promised them I wouldn’t.”

“Who? The kids?”

He nodded.

Sangare studied his face, black eyes, crimson ridges sticking out of charcoal skin, a red frown. She cocked her head. “Were the kids abused? In their homes?”

His eyes flickered. “I can’t say.”

She paused. “Sexually abused?”

His hands pulled inward and his shoulders sank, like he wanted to retreat into his own skeletal body.

Either he has no guile whatsoever and the prosecution will pick him apart, she bit the inside of her lip, or he’s a perfect liar. She wasn’t sure which she preferred.

“Ok, in that case, let me tell you what will happen. If they were sexually abused, the child psychologist will find out. They will attribute the trauma they all have to you. But if you volunteer the information, that will make a much better case for you protecting the kids. So, is that what happened? You were protecting them?” Not a bad story, but still won’t excuse kidnapping.

“I can’t say what happened,” he said, after a moment. “But, yes, I protect them.”

“All right, so, assuming you protect them,” and you’re not playing me for a fool “how did you find out? How did you meet them? Who was first?”

“I met Violet first. She…” he stopped, as if reconsidering.

“Go on. Like I said, I’m here to help. I can’t bring other charges against you, even if I wanted to.”

He nodded, but didn’t look convinced. “She was nine.”

Five years. He’s had her for five years. She straightened, a cold realization icing her spine. Almost the same age as Ruby. Coincidence? Or preference? “How did you meet her?”

“I… um.”

Sangare looked up. “Did you lure her in some way?”

“No. Not really.”

He lured her. Great.

“It was… I can dreamwalk. It was while she slept. In her dreams.”

She felt a souring in her stomach, a feeling she thought she’d become numb to after years of defending killers and rapists. An incubus stalked a nine year old girl in her dreams. And I’m defending him. She continued in her same mechanical tone, her expression showing nothing. “What happened? While you were dreamwalking?”

“I saw her nightmares. They weren’t like other children’s nightmares. I see those all the time. These were something else.”

“What were they?”

“Hideous. Things that… I can’t describe dream monsters, but they didn’t belong in a little girl’s head.”

“What did you do?”

“I got rid of them. First, just one night.” He met her eyes. “I didn’t intend to come back. I didn’t speak to her, she didn’t see me. I just… I felt bad for her. She was so scared. And guilty.” He looked back at the table. “I know what that feels like.”

Don’t say that in the courtroom. “But you did come back.”

“The monsters got worse. Every night. So I came back and got rid of them. And then, all alone, she’d cry.” He paused. “I felt bad. I knew I shouldn’t have approached her but… I felt bad.”

“At that point, did you use any sort of magic on her?”

He drew a breath again and held it, his shoulders rising. “Yes. I controlled her dreams. Made hers a part of mine.”

Sangare set her teeth to keep her face void. “What do you mean?”

“I can control my dreams. Go anywhere, do anything. I took her places. Nice places. Place I’d seen in other people’s dreams.”

“What sort of places?”

His head tilted, something wistful coming over his monster face. “The beach. That was first. An apple orchard. Somewhere far away with big trees and rivers and things—I don’t know what that place is. The zoo. Places like that.”

“What did you do there?”

“We walked around. Played hide and seek a lot. Swam in the water. Made sand castles. Rode an elephant a few times.”

It took Sangare a moment to reply. She couldn’t picture this skeletal thing making sand castles, but it did sound like the types of rewards other predators offered their young victims. “Had you done this with any other children before Violet?”

“No.”

“Adults?”

“No.”

“Had you interacted with anyone in dreams before this?”

He nodded. “Sometimes. I can see other dreamwalkers. Other incubi. Sometimes vampires. Ghosts. I try to keep humans away from them.”

Sangare blinked. All these things hunt humans in their sleep? She knew she wouldn’t sleep at all that night. Or maybe any night. “How?”

He half-shrugged. “I turn into someone they trust or something they like and lead them away.”

“You can do that?”

He nodded. “I can do anything in dreamworld.” He said it as if it bored him.

“Anything?”

He nodded.

“Can you possess someone?”

He nodded again.

“Kill someone?”

He glanced quickly and didn’t respond.

Mind control and murder. Two death penalty crimes. I’m sorry I asked. “Back to Violet. Did she know what you were when you appeared to her?”

“No. For a while she thought I was just another dream thing.”

“And when did that change?”

“One night she told me she didn’t want to go home anymore. She wanted to stay in dreamworld with me.”

“Did she say why?”

“No, but I knew.”

“How did you know?”

“I could see her fears. Her thoughts.”

Unlicensed mind reading. Life in prison. Just gets better and better. “What was she afraid of?”

He almost answered, his thin, dark lips parting, but stopped. “I told you. I can’t say.”

“When she said she didn’t want to go home, then what happened?”

“I…” he shrunk inward again. “I told her to come live with me.”

“Were you in Burgundy at that time?”

“No. Chicago.”

“Where was she?”

“Chicago.”

A kidnapped Violet from Chicago five years ago. Can’t be many of those. I won’t need her last name after all. “How did you get her?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t. I told her how to come find me—I was in the lower quarter—and she did.”

“So you didn’t ever go to her home?”

“No. I was—afraid to.”

“Why?”

“If they caught me,” he pulled in further “I knew they’d lock me up.”

“Did you go to any of the children’s homes?”

He shook his head.

“None of them?”

“No.”

“You told them how to find you?”

“Yes.”

If he was telling the truth, it was the first glimmer of hope in his story. “What did that entail?”

“They’d get on a train or a bus. I’d tell them how, where to go. Never very far.”

Looking down at the papers, pen in hand, Sangare didn’t look at him or pause, hoping to catch him off-guard. “What cities?”

“Violet was in Chicago. Theo was in Minneapolis. Ruby was in Burgundy.”

“I see.” She set the pen down and leaned in. “Dis, this is very important and I need you to tell me the truth. Whatever you answer, I can develop a defense, but I can’t do it properly if you lie. Do you understand?”

He pulled away, uncertain. “Tell the truth about what?”

“Listen to me carefully: Did you ever at any time, touch the girls or the boy in an inappropriate way?”

His red brows pulled down, darkening his eyes. “No.”

“You’re sure?”

His eyes narrowed and he glared. His gaze didn’t falter. “I have never done that.”

“Did any of the kids—the boy or the girls—ever touch you in an inappropriate way?”

His glare hardened for a moment—then broke. He blinked. “No. Never.”

Sangare almost sighed. My God, he’s so transparent. “Dis, are you lying?”

“No.”

“I think you’re lying. Tell me the truth or I can’t help you. Did you tell one of them—or all of them—to perform a sexual act on you?”

“No!” Both clawed hands screeched across the table. Sangare leaned back, the heat in the monster’s gaze forcing her back like a billowing fire. Seeing her reaction, he moved back and his voice evened. “I’m sorry. But it wasn’t like that. It really wasn’t. It was, it was a misunderstanding.”

Sangare blinked. In the end, he really is another monster. Another pedophile. She picked up her pen. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“I can’t.”

Sangare frowned. Enough of this guilty charade. “Was it Violet?”

He looked away.

Sangare studied him. But how can it be an act if he’s so terrible at it? “What happened?”

“It was a misunderstanding,” he muttered to the table. “She, she’s young. She’s—there are things that… she’s gotten confused.”

            “Ok, let me explain. If you really didn’t molest them—as you say—you can undergo a mind-reading and you can be cleared of all charges. This is your best possible option if you are innocent of these crimes. However, if you agree to a reading and you did molest them, you’re looking at a very long, very difficult sentence and I can’t help you.”

He considered it a moment, looking down at his hands. Then, he met her eyes. “I didn’t molest them.”

“Tell me what happened with Violet,” she insisted.  

He leaned back, pulling his hands in again. “I’ve told her I love her. And I do. I know what love is, whether you or anyone else believe me or not, and I love her.”

Sangare waited. That’s not an excuse. Or a defense.

“She said she loved me too. I, I didn’t… when she said that…” he shook his head. “I knew I’d always protect her. But I didn’t know...” He grimaced, struggling with the words.

Sangare blinked, feeling her heart shrivel at the thought of defending another guilty man.

When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “She gets frightened at night sometimes. Still.” He paused. “I kept telling her she was too old to sleep in bed with me. But then she’d lay awake and cry. I hate hearing her cry. I hate it. I’d always say it was the last time, but…”

Sangare raised an eyebrow. “She asked to sleep in bed with you?”

He nodded slowly. “I knew it wasn’t right. When she was so young, though, it wasn’t… but she grew up so fast. When she said she loved me I didn’t think…” He fell quiet.

“What happened?”

“She came into my room again, said she was scared. I tried to say no, but…” He shook his head.

“Dis. What happened?”

“I… she kissed me. On the mouth. It seemed odd, but… I don’t know.”

“Ok, she kissed you.” He kissed her. “Then what?”

“I turned away, but she was close, very close. She, um, reached for me.”

Sangare blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Um. Not in a way that, not in a way that was really, I guess, appropriate.”

She nodded. “Ok, so it was sexual?” How would a fourteen year old get an idea like that? It was a hard story to believe. It would be harder for a jury.

He was quiet. “I guess so.”

“How long did that go on?”

“I was surprised. Shocked. I pushed her away and told her to go back to her room.”

Sangare didn’t believe it. “How did you feel? When she touched you?”

He whispered something. Sangare leaned in. “What?”

“Disgusting,” he said quietly.

She sat back. She believed he felt guilty about whatever had really happened, but guilty because it was inappropriate or guilty because he enjoyed it? It was difficult to say. She wasn’t sure he knew.

“I tried to explain,” he went on softly. “What was ok and what wasn’t. But she… I… I got angry with her.” His shoulders pulled in again, shrinking into himself. “I wish I wouldn’t have.”

“Did you hit her? When you got angry?”

He shook his head. “No, I’d never hit her. I just, I should’ve explained. She needed that, but I didn’t know how.”

Sangare tilted her head, watching his downcast face. “So, she kissed you, touched you, you told her to leave, then you got angry, is that right?”

He nodded.

“What made you angry? Something she said? Or did?” Or didn’t do?

It took him a long moment. Sangare waited in the heavy silence. “She said I could hurt her if I wanted. Said she’d let me do it. Or she’d fight me. Whatever I 'liked'. She knew what I was, but I didn’t think…” One clawed hand covered his forehead. He got quiet and, even in the silence, Sangare scarcely heard him. “That she thought that of me… I felt so fucking ugly.”

She watched the creature, his long, looming form scrunched, trying to hide his nightmarish face. Either he was a great liar or a terrible one, but it couldn’t be both. And if he was a great liar, why tell the story at all? Why admit to anything? She found herself on a strange, risky precipice. She was close to believing a monster.

There was just one question left. “Dis,” she said, after a considering silence, “she’s fourteen years old. Why would she act that way towards you? Where would she get that idea?”

His hands fell back to the table, knife-tip claws balanced on the metal. His soft voice turned suddenly dark. Dangerous. “She got the idea long before me.”

She could barely see his black eyes staring at the table, but she saw the hate in them. “Was it her father? That abused her?”

He glanced up quickly, eyes narrow. Then he looked away. “I can’t say.”

Silence filled the room again. She thought the incubus might speak, might confirm her suspicions with more than a look. When he didn’t, she asked, “Is her father still alive?”

He looked at the wall. “No.”

“Did you kill him?”

He scratched at the gouges in the metal table again. “Yes.” His claws slipped into the holes like nails in a board. “I didn’t mean to.” He took a breath and held it. “But I wanted to.”

“How did you kill him?”

He fell deadly still. “I haunted him. I terrorized him. In his sleep.”

She shook her head slowly. “Terrorized how?”

“Nightmares.” A snarl slipped over his lips and Sangare saw his needle teeth clenched. “Sometimes I’d hurt him. Not only fear, but pain, real pain. When she’d cry… then I’d hurt him.”

Sangare swallowed, struggling to keep fear from showing on her face. “What did you do to hurt him?”

The snarl faded and his gaze dropped to his hands. “I ripped his skin off once. More than once.” He paused. “When I made the nightmare, he wouldn’t die unless I let him. So he just felt pain.”

“What made you finally kill him?”

“I didn’t. He shot himself.”

Didn’t he say his mother killed herself too? “Dis, tell me the truth—have you haunted other people?”

Slowly, he confessed a nod.

“People close to the kids?”

He nodded again.

“People close to you?”

He gave a soft sigh. “They’re the only ones close to me.”

“Have you killed other people? Or have the people you’ve haunted killed themselves?”

“No. And I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Sangare leaned in, studying him closely. “Is that the truth?”

He nodded and frowned, his thin, dark red lips pulling down like melting wax. “She told me not to.” He pulled his hands in and scrunched. “I am—ashamed of that. What I did to him. It really was monstrous.” He looked up without moving his head, unwilling to uncurl from his shrinking state. “I am a criminal. I have done terrible things. But I didn’t do what they say I did.”

Detectives Vs Boogieman Ch 3

I'm writing today from Cairns, Australia, the last location on my outback destinations, then I will be on to Tokyo! Still hard at work writing, writing, writing, but--for better or worse--this scenic paradise has not taken the darkness out of my writing. It's still dark shit, so if you're into that, read on, my friend! This is the first big action scene, so if you're just tuning in, you've come at the right time--the detectives take on The Boogieman, and figure out what he really is. 

(in traditional Law and Order style... DUN DUN)

134 Franklin Street, Burgundy

1:04 AM

 

After a week more research and stakeouts, Ollie knew they already had all the information they were going to find. The alleged kidnapper fit some categories—he could disappear like a ghost, he was active at night like a vampire—but not others—he didn’t cause a foul odor or a presence of terror like a phantom would have, he commanded more dark magic than a vamp should have. Saphim revised his initial hypothesis in an official report: “Subject exhibits behavior similar to a wraith, an elder vampire and a dark magician. Species analysis inconclusive. Confront the subject only with the utmost caution. Recommend organization of raid to catch the subject off-guard. Recommend use of white magicians trained in offensive and defensive magic, detection, control, magic suppression and healing.”

                Ollie was both glad and surprised to see the cold man take the case so seriously. He half-expected the Senior Agent to chalk it up to a haunting, give him a new magician half-trained in séances and a “good luck.” But the plan Saphim outlined included himself and four other well-trained white magicians. Captain Reeves signed off on the operation and added six Monster Force officers. They planned the raid for one o’ clock AM, when surveillance had shown the monster and the children would be in the house, after the powerful dark magic hour of midnight, and before the second one at three AM.

                Standing under the cover of the slumped elm in front of 134 Franklin Street, Ollie watched the dark windows of the house. He glanced up at the second story window where he’d seen the orange light peeking through so many nights. This night, everything was dark.

                El kept watch next to him, her dark eyes running over the front yard to the door of the house. Between them, Saphim knelt on one knee, drawing a spell in white dust on the grass. If the monster could vanish into darkness, it had to be assumed it could disappear from the house, possibly taking the children with him. That was unacceptable. The sorcerers, Saphim at the front of the house and three other agents on each side, devised a white magic perimeter to trap the subject inside. The Monster Force cops accompanying them, El and Ollie included, made a physical barrier, to stop the creature from running out.

                Throwing another quick glance at the upstairs window, half-expecting a dark shape to look down at him, Ollie looked back at Saphim as he carefully—slowly—drew a cross inside the circle. Sure is taking his damn time.

                “What is that?” Ollie hissed.

                Saphim didn’t look up. “Salt.”

                Ollie glanced at El, reflecting his raised eyebrow. “Salt?”

                “Yes.”

                “Why?”

                He kept drawing the tidy circle, unperturbed. “Ghosts, wraiths, undead, they can’t cross salt.”

                Ollie expected something like holy water, silver or fire, the things that hurt vamps. “Why?” he said again.

                “You really want to know the history of salt as a spiritual cleansing device?”

                Ollie frowned. “No. Just hurry it up.”

                The short, thin man’s pace didn’t change. He made an array of white symbols on the ground, murmured something Ollie couldn’t make out, and scattered red petals over the design.

                “Rose petals?” Some salty flowers are going to keep this thing contained?

                “Rose petals once laid over a grave.” Saphim looked up askance. “I could explain every spell we’ll use against the subject, but I don’t think this is a very good time.”

                Ollie closed his mouth with a snap. He saw El try and fail to bite back a smirk.

                Looking back up at the window, Ollie ran his thumb reassuringly over his gun. Crafted by the Burgundy chapter of the Holy Office, the intricate spells etched into the metal made it possible to incapacitate—and kill—any vampire, undead, giant and a slew of other monsters just as well as any person. The Holy Office also made each gun with a unique signature, so it was irrefutable which gun did the shooting—or the killing. Like all Monster Force officers, Ollie didn’t shoot for no reason, though he had used the gun before. And he’d use it again if he had to.  

Saphim stood up and put a finger to his earpiece. “Main entrance secure. Agents, perimeter check.”

“East secure, sir,” Ollie heard through his earpiece.

“West secure.”

A pause. “South secure. Surveillance confirms the children and the subject are inside.”

 Saphim nodded to Ollie and El. “Perimeter secure, detectives. Proceed with caution.”

Ollie signaled to the cop outfitted in a helmet and flack jacket, protective spells on the front glinting in the moonlight. The cop moved swiftly to the front door, Ollie, El and Saphim following. Though Saphim didn’t carry a weapon, wasn’t licensed to use one, he didn’t need it. Certified in offensive and defense spells, the Senior Agent had all the weapons he needed tattooed on his hands.

The first cop kept a gloved fist aloft, as if he carried a bomb. On the palm of the yellow glove was a single black symbol, a powerful spell and the only one Ollie knew the meaning of: BREAK.

Standing across from the cop by the front door, Ollie pounded a fist on the wood. “Burgundy police, open the door. We have a warrant to search the premises.” He waited a moment, listening for shuffling sounds of hurried running, but heard nothing. “Burgundy PD, open the door or we will break it down.” He waited again for a response, but got nothing. This time, he did hear footsteps.

Stepping back, Ollie nodded to the officer. He flung his open, yellow-gloved hand against the wood and the door burst open, the lock splintering. A dark room yawned beyond.

 Flashlights cutting the gloom, Ollie followed the first cop inside. The white beams ran over a small, empty foyer, a staircase to the right, a large painting on one wall, and an archway in front of them revealing the living room beyond. A figure ran past the archway. With long hair flying behind, Ollie assumed it was a woman, or maybe a girl.

“This is Burgundy PD, we are here to help,” Ollie announced. “We are not here to harm you. Come into the light slowly.

“Dis!” she cried.

It must be the teenage girl. The monster’s victim? Or a complicit conspirator? Ollie wished he could have found out more from the stake-outs. It was too late now.

Her footsteps rushed towards the back, where the back door to the yard would be. Whether victim, a possessed co-conspirator or the creature’s willing partner, she wouldn’t get far, not with the cops and agents waiting outside the backdoor.  Ollie signaled to El and the other officer to pursue the girl through the next room.

Looking towards the stairs, Ollie nodded to Saphim. He nodded back.

Moving sideways with his back against the wall, Ollie eyed the upper hallway. His flashlight moved across the wall to the far door. Behind that door was the room where the orange light shined through every night. As he stalked down the hall, Saphim behind him, Ollie thought of small, frightened Ruby, trapped in the monster’s claws.

“Ruby? This is the police, we’re here to help.” He leaned close to the door. Behind, bed springs creaked. Ollie twisted the knob. It opened, unlocked.

Stepping into the room, holding his gun and flashlight up, the beam crossed over an unmade bed, a chair, an open closet door, and two entwined figures. He lurched the beam back, spotlighting them. At first, Ollie thought it was a shadow, some trick of the light that made the strange shape he saw. But it wasn’t. The stark light illuminated a black and red figure, stooped, holding a clawed hand in front of its face. It wore clothes like a human, but draped over too-long, too-thin limbs it looked like a perverse skeleton. Behind its long, spider limbs and stretched out torso, a child cowered. Ruby.

“Give me the child, monster.” Ollie trained his gun and flashlight on the beast.

Pushing the girl back with one clawed hand, it stepped slowly away. Ollie glimpsed red ridges, like exposed, bloodied bone, sticking out of its hands, arms and legs.

“We have one child secure, female, teen,” Ollie heard in his earpiece. Then, a different voice, “Second, male, teen, secure.”

 Just Ruby left. I hope. “The house is surrounded by white magic and cops,” Ollie said. “There’s nowhere to go. Give it up.”

A low growl rose from the creature’s chest.

“D, I’m scared,” Ruby uttered behind it.  

“It’ll be all right.” At first, Ollie wasn’t sure who’d spoken. The voice was low and soft, but so human. For an uncertain moment, everything was still. He realized it was the monster’s voice.

Downstairs, something shattered.

“Let go of me!” A girl screamed below. “D, help me! Help me!”

The monster straightened, its shielding hand dropping from its face. The creature’s glaring countenance, a red skull with oil-black eyes and hollow cheeks, almost knocked Ollie back a step.

“Violet!” The monster shouted.

“Help me!” she pleaded again from downstairs.

The soulless eyes narrowed and the dark red lips curled back over thin, splinter teeth. The monster glowered at him and snarled, a face full of hate.

When it pulled Ruby up with one arm, Ollie thought at first the beast meant to use her as a shield. An instant later, the monster—and Ruby—vanished. Tendrils of black smoke writhed in the air, evidence of black magic.

Ollie turned on Saphim. “You said it couldn’t leave!”

“It’s can’t.” Saphim spun towards the door. “It’s downstairs, it wants the other girl.”

Ollie dodged past Saphim, down the hall to the stairs. On the staircase, he heard the older girl cry out again from the back of the house.

“Subject on the ground floor,” El said into the earpiece. “Using dark magic.”

Something slammed against a wall. The house shuddered.

“El!” Ollie hurried down the stairs, back into the foyer. His flashlight lit on El, standing just inside the archway in a solid stance, holding her gun up towards the darkness in the next room.

 “Stand down or I will shoot,” she declared.

Lowering his gun, Ollie moved towards her. She fired a shot and he stopped, watching her back. In an instant, he saw the monster appear behind her, a looming shape of snarled black limbs.

“El, look out!”

She half-turned just as its distended fingers slapped against her head. It pushed her back, headfirst, into the archway and she let out a cry that scratched at Ollie’s spine. She crumpled to the floor and the creature turned. Finger on the trigger, Ollie raised his gun, but the monster vanished before he could fire.

“Damn it!” He searched the room quickly, but the monster was gone. Ollie crouched down next to El. “El, you all right?” Propping her up, she winced and hissed.

“Not now, detective!” Saphim snapped, moving into the room behind him. He put a finger to his earpiece. “Healers, officer down on the ground floor.” His flashlight ran past another officer, face-down on the carpet. “Two officers down, ground floor. Assailant—”

“Dis!” a boy’s voice called from the back yard. “Help! We’re in the back!”

“Assailant is in the backyard,” Saphim continued. “Using black magic teleportation to attack officers. Agents, contain if possible, use force if necessary.”

Gritting his teeth, Ollie stood up, leaving El moaning on the floor. The Healers will help her. His grip tightened on his gun. This son of bitch is going down.

A small kitchen extended from the living room. At the end of the corridor of appliances and counters was the back door. Shouting rang out from behind.

“Ollie.” Saphim held him back as he moved towards the door. “Switch your flashlight to UV.”

Ollie glanced, but didn’t argue. He twisted the head of the flashlight and the long, white, electric beam turned to a wider, gentler spread of ultraviolet light.

“Assailant attacking!” Ollie heard behind the door and through his earpiece. A shot snapped the air and a girl screamed.

Goddamn it, they’re shooting at the kids! “Officers, check your fire!” he said into the communicator.

“Backya—ugh!” The voice cut off with a sharp crack and a thump on the ground outside.

Hand on the doorknob, Ollie listened. Nothing moved on the other side of the door.

“Theo, Violet, take Ruby,” That somehow-human voice said. “Run.”

The older girl tried to protest, “D, what about—”

Ollie flung open the door. “Nobody move!”

In the dark backyard, two cops and an agent sprawled in the grass. Ollie’s UV light fell on a teenage boy and girl, little Ruby between them, and then the monster, a tall, thin, twisted shape like a dead tree. It spun around to face him, it’s furious face illuminated only an instant before it recoiled, hissing.

Saphim jumped on the creature’s weakness. “Adiuro vos! Adiuro vos cum sanctum!” He threw out a hand. “Adiuro vos!”

The monster stumbled back a step, then dropped to its knees, hands behind its back. Ollie trained the sun-powered flashlight on it. It screamed. It should’ve been a snarling, bestial cry, but it wasn’t. It was a human’s scream in agony.

“Stop it!” The older girl stepped in front of the creature and reached down on the ground.

“Don’t!” Ollie tried to stop her, but too late. She snatched up a fallen officer’s gun.

Standing up, she leveled the weapon at him. “Stop it or I’ll kill you, I swear to God!”

Ollie turned the flashlight towards the sky. The undirected light painted the teen’s face in gray, making shadowed gullies of her narrowed eyes, her hard, straight mouth. Behind her, the monster moaned, rolling on the ground.

Ollie kept his gun pointed at the monster, but looked at the girl. “All right now, listen to me,” he said evenly, calmly. “You don’t want to do that.”

“I will, I swear to God I will. You hurt him and I’ll shoot you.” She was just a kid, not even sixteen, but Ollie saw the look on her face and believed her.

“Look, I know you think this thing is looking out for you, but it isn’t.”

“You don’t know anything about it.”

“He’s brainwashed you. Taken you from your family, your home. But it’s over now, okay? We can take you back. To—”

Her stern face turned into a teeth-baring snarl. She raised the gun. Ollie held his breath.

“Violet,” a quiet voice entreated behind her.

“Listen, he can’t hurt you anymore, all right?” Ollie said slowly. “It’s over.”

“He is the only person that has ever loved me!” Tears filled her eyes, choking her voice. “I won’t let you hurt him!”

Ollie felt control of the situation slipping away. Whether the creature had brainwashed her or she was complicit in his crimes, she was willing to die for him and probably kill for him too. All he had to do was say the word. The gun felt suddenly heavy in Ollie’s grasp, only a slight turn away from killing a teenager.

“Violet,” the creature repeated.

“Don’t listen to him,” Ollie argued, growing desperate. “I know you think—”

“Shut up!” she shouted.

“Violet, put the gun down.” Outside the light, the shadowy shape of the monster struggled to its knees.

She glanced at the creature.  The weapon shook in her hands. “What?”

“Put the gun down, Violet,” it said. “This isn’t you.”

She hesitated and looked back at Ollie. “Look, just leave us alone, all right? We’re not hurting anybody, we just want to be left alone.”

Ollie shook his head. “I can’t do that. I know you don’t think so, but you’re in danger. It’s my job to protect you.”

“You never protected me! Any of us! We—”

“Violet.” Hands locked behind its back, the monster leaned its head against her. “Put the gun down. Please. Do it for me.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “But they’ll hurt you.” Her stern voice was suddenly small.

“I’m not hurt. I’m all right. I’m fine. Put it down, Violet, please.” It waited and then it pleaded, “Please.”

The teenager looked from the monster behind her to Ollie, to Saphim and back to Ollie. “I’ll put it down. But only if you swear not to hurt him. And stop doing whatever you were doing.”

“Ok, you got it.” Ollie slowly holstered his weapon and twisted the flashlight back to electric. “That was UV light, sunlight, that’s why it did that. Now it’s just a regular flashlight, can’t hurt anybody. Okay?”

She didn’t lower the weapon. She looked at Saphim. “Undo the spell.”

 “No.” He didn’t hesitate.

She turned the gun on him. “Undo it!”

Ollie intervened. “Look, it’s just a safety precaution, so nobody gets hurt. I know everyone is really, um, excited right now. We just want to de-escalate, okay? The handcuffs won’t hurt him. We won’t hurt him. Nobody’s gonna get hurt.” Nobody’s gonna get shot. I hope.

“It’s all right, Violet,” the creature said, a voice so tragically human. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

New tears ran down her face as she crouched and set the gun down. Before Ollie could move, she dashed away. At first, he thought she’d flee. But she didn’t. She threw her arms around the monster and sobbed. “I’m sorry, D. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

It laid its head on her shoulder. “You did great. You were very brave. I love you, Violet. Everything will be all right.”

Before Ollie turned the flashlight on it and saw it’s squinting demon face, an odd thought startled him. That’s what I’d tell my kids.

The monster grimaced in the light, its black and red face twisting. “I give up. You got me. Just leave the kids out of it. They were just doing what I told them.”

“That’s not true!” the girl protested. Saphim took her by the arm, pulling her away from the creature.

The monster looked Ollie in the eyes. Blistered burns bubbled on half its face. “You’re right. I brainwashed them, her most of all. She didn’t know what she was doing.”

“Dis, don’t say that!” She tried to push Saphim away, who looked a second away from putting her in a binding spell as well. “Why are you saying that?”

Ollie frowned and hauled the handcuffed monster to its feet. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of it.” As it stood up, standing more than a foot taller than him, Ollie saw more burns on its neck and arms.

“It was all me,” it said. “I admit it. Let her go.”

“You have the right to remain silent,” Ollie began. As he recited the monster’s Miranda rights, a poisonous question pricked his mind. If he controlled the kids, why didn’t he tell her to shoot me?

Ollie had gotten used to shutting sub-human criminals into the back of the police car. He’d stuffed in vampires, dark wizards and witches, goblins, even a giant or two, though with considerably more difficulty. He’d worked ghost cases, but they ended in a séance or an exorcism, not with a ghost in the back of a car. He’d never filled a police car with a creature like that. But there it was. A phantom, a wraith, an evil apparition handcuffed in the back of the cruiser.

“How’s El?” Walking up behind him, Saphim interrupted his reverie.

“The Healers have her. They said she’ll be fine.”

“What did it do to her?”

Ollie glanced at him. “It smashed her head into a wall, you saw it. Looks like it did that to all the officers. What else would it have done?”

Saphim didn’t answer.

“Your agents did a lot of good, by the way.” Ollie crossed his arms.

“About as well as your cops,” he said dryly.

“Your people have magic.”

“Yours have guns.”

Ollie took a breath, ready to storm into an argument, but stopped. Through the police car windshield, through the grate, he looked into the captured monster’s face. It stared back at him, black eyes not blinking.

“It’s not a phantom, is it?” Ollie said.

“No.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“I think so.”

Ollie waited. He finally tore his gaze from the monster and attempted a laugh. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, Agent.”

“It’s an incubus.”

His weak smile evaporated.

Saphim met his eyes. “You know what that is.”

“Yeah. I do. Worked a case as a rookie.” The uncertainty crawling under his skin turned to rotten disgust. “They’re evil ghosts. They hunt women. Rape women. In their sleep.”

“I think this one hunts—” Saphim’s white eyes shifted to the sobbing eight-year-old and two grim-faced teens in the back of police cars “—something else.”

Ollie swallowed. Not a child-eater. He glared at the monster, still looking at him, but couldn’t hold its evil gaze. A child-raper.