Eater of Lives (SPECTR #4) Read online

  Eater of Lives

  (SPECTR #4)

  Jordan L. Hawk

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Eater of Lives (SPECTR #4) © 2013 Jordan L. Hawk

  ISBN: 978-0-9885641-6-9

  All rights reserved.

  Cover art © 2013 Jordan L. Hawk

  Image credits:

  Lightning photo: © Can Stock Photo Inc. / valdezrl

  Model: ©iStockphoto.com /Geber86

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Annetta Ribken

  This book is dedicated to you (yes, you), because you are beautiful.

  Chapter 1

  The full-length mirror lurked across the room from Valerie, a thin sheet tacked up to cover its surface. The mirror had been her nemesis for as long as she could remember, revealing every bulge, every ounce of fat, every flaw.

  She hated it. But she needed it, because how else could she know if she looked good enough?

  The cold inside her chest deepened slightly. It felt as if she’d swallowed a huge lump of ice, trying to fill up her empty stomach, and it stuck on its way down, lodging against her heart instead.

  “You are strong,” the cold crooned. “So very strong. The mirror will show you.”

  Would it? She’d spent years trying to be strong. Strength meant baking cookies for her mother’s birthday, but touching not so much as a crumb herself. Strength meant ignoring the constant bombardment from television and radio and internet: Double-cheese bacon burger! Lunch special: two sides, a drink, and an extra-large sub! Treat yourself to a Candy Explosion Shake today!

  Eat, eat, eat, said the ads. While showing the size zero woman she needed to be.

  She’d realized the betrayal of her body early on. Her weakness.

  Oh, she’d tried. Eaten tissues to fill the emptiness, devoured boxes of laxatives, climbed a thousand stairways to heaven on step machines. Nothing worked.

  “But you found your strength.” The cold pulsed in her chest, and it hurt. But pain was good; pain meant release. She’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

  Valerie put back her shoulders and glared defiantly at the mirror. She’d found a way to be strong, a different way. A way other people were too scared to try.

  Not allowing her hand to shake, she strode across the tiny room and tore the sheet aside, unveiling the mirror.

  She’d watched the numbers fall on the scale, felt her clothing become looser, but it hadn’t prepared her for the full, glorious reality. She could count every rib beneath her naked skin, trace every flare and curve of the hipbones fighting to get out. Her cheekbones could cut glass, and her knees bulged far wider than her thighs.

  Perfect. Not just size zero, but double-zero, for certain.

  “Yes. You are perfect. You deserve a reward.”

  She did. Food had been the enemy, but no more. Now it could be a treat, because she’d finally proven herself stronger than it.

  Dreaming about the future for the first time in years, she lifted the human forearm from where it lay on the desk, and took a meaty bite.

  * * *

  “Are you up to this?” John asked.

  Sweat slicked his skin and stuck his t-shirt to his back. The hum of the treadmill, the slap of his shoes against its belt, the burn of muscle, usually made workouts something of a Zen experience for him. He could slip into the demands of movement and just let his thoughts go for a while.

  Normally, though, he didn’t have his best friend panting and gasping beside him. Sean’s pack-a-day habit hadn’t left him in the best of shape, but the bandage on the upper part of Sean’s arm, where a bullet grazed him just two days earlier, worried John even more.

  “I’m fine,” Sean insisted through gritted teeth.

  Uh huh. “So what’s behind this sudden desire to get in shape?”

  Sean glowered at the display on his treadmill. “What, I need a reason?”

  “Considering I never see you here except for the first two weeks after New Year’s every year, yeah. Not to mention you’ve got a hole in your arm, which seems like a pretty good excuse to spend your lunch hour behind your desk.”

  “The docs gave me an all clear for regular activity, as long as the wound stays clean.” Sean grimaced. “And thanks for the reminder, asshole. I almost forgot how much it fucking stings right now.”

  “Just one of many valuable services I provide.”

  “Stick to trying that line on your boyfriend.” Sean glanced at him, then rolled his eyes. “Fine. Maybe getting shot—well, grazed—made me think a little, okay? Maybe I ought to take better care of myself. Quit smoking, eat healthier, and get in shape.”

  It wouldn’t be the first time Sean made such a vow. Usually, his new lifestyle lasted two weeks, more or less, before he went back to his old habits. Then again, brushes with death had a way of changing people, for good or ill. Maybe it would stick this time. “I’m glad to hear it,” John said. “You can do it, Sean. I know you—you’ve got enough determination to do anything you put your mind to.”

  “Well, at least I have my own one-man cheerleading section,” Sean said. “Now if only you looked better in a skirt. And were a woman.”

  “I’m not feeling the love here.”

  “Good.”

  The door behind them opened, and John glanced automatically at the mirrored walls. The man who came in looked like a rock star who’d mistaken the gym for a recording studio: tall, thin, and pale, with long black hair. He wore a gorgeous leather coat, closed across his chest with three thick straps. The coat matched his heavy black boots, also festooned with buckles and straps.

  Surprised, John hit the stop button on the treadmill. “Hey, Caleb,” he said, grabbing up his towel and wiping off his face. “Are you coming to join us?”

  Caleb eyed the treadmills with an expression of disdain he normally reserved for ties. “No, thanks. I spent enough time on the damn things when Forsyth wired me up last week.”

  John winced. He’d met Caleb during an exorcism. John expected it to be a routine assignment—a ghoul possession, probably, or maybe a lycanthrope. But not only did the possessing spirit prove impossible to remove from Caleb—which shouldn’t have been the case so early in the possession—but it turned out to be a creature of myth. A drakul.

  In common parlance, a vampire.

  Gray had accidentally possessed Caleb just seconds before CPR restarted Caleb’s heart, leaving the drakul in a living body for the first time. A natural demon hunter, Gray proved exceptionally useful in John’s work, and the three of them formed a temporary partnership until Gray could be exorcised. One thing led to another, and before he knew it, John fell in love with Caleb.

  And maybe, if he was honest, with Gray as well.

  “What’s up?” he asked, trying not to think about the last. “Did you just come down here to see me get all sweaty?”

  Sean made loud gagging noises. Caleb just rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Starkweather? Does your brain engage at all, or do you just say whatever the hell pops into your head? I’m down here because Kaniyar is looking for you two, and I volunteered to find you. So hit the showers.”

  “Did she say what she wanted?” John asked, sobering immediately.

  “Nope, and I didn’t ask. She scares the shit out of me.”

  “Who cares what she wants?” Sean asked, turning of his treadmill. “Anything to get off this torture contraption. Dying on the couch with a burger in one hand and a cigarette in the other is starting to look better and better.”

  * * *

  Caleb trailed after John and Sean into Kaniyar’s office. His hyped-up senses, courtesy of Gray, detected the soap and shampoo from their showers, mingled with deodorant and cologne. He hated to admit it, but John had looked pretty hot in the gym, his shorts displaying his long legs and firm ass to best advantage. Winter kept John in jeans or slacks otherwise, but if Caleb made it to summer—

  Which, no. He couldn’t to think like that.

  “Why would we not make it to summer?”

  Because “we” was the problem—but try explaining it to Gray, who didn’t see any drawbacks at all to their shared existence, and plenty of perks. Like seeing colors, and smelling a full range of scents, and, oh yeah, sex.

  At least John could still theoretically exorcise Gray at the moment. But after forty days, that was it—possession became permanent, and nothing would displace the drakul. Caleb had less than two weeks left, and after…he didn’t know, really. Presumably Gray would take over and have a field day with his body.

  “Absurd. Why do you insist on such foolish delusions?”

  Fine, say Gray wasn’t lying. It still didn’t answer what would become of Caleb. Would SPECTR lock them up and throw away the key?

  Unease. “Why would we submit to such a thing?”

  “Agents,” Kaniyar said. She sat behind her desk,
a tall woman with bronze skin, marred by four ugly scars across her face. “You remember Executive Assistant Director Forsyth.”

  Caleb stopped in his tracks. Forsyth sat in a chair to one side, holding himself so straight Caleb didn’t think his back touched it. His gray hair and blue eyes, hell, everything about him screamed “military” even though he wore a suit and tie and worked for SPECTR.

  What the hell did Forsyth want here, anyway? More tests?

  Gray stirred restlessly. “Pointless.”

  No kidding. And boring…but scary at the same time, because who knew what thoughts lurked behind Forsyth’s cool eyes? If he deemed Gray too dangerous to allow to roam around, could he toss Caleb in lockup against Kaniyar’s wishes? He seriously outranked her, so the answer was probably “yes.”

  Sean and John both shook hands with Forsyth, mouthing pleasantries. Caleb folded his hands behind him and nodded guardedly.

  “All right,” Kaniyar said, pushing a stack of folders across the table at them. Caleb got the impression Forsyth’s presence didn’t exactly thrill her. “Here’s another case for you gentlemen.”

  “Excellent work on the Olney case, by the way,” Forsyth put in. “His wife and the Fist operative you captured are both cooperating fully. Not only is the Senator’s political career in ruins and his proposed changes to SPECTR off the table, but he’ll be arrested as soon as he’s discharged from the hospital. The other anti-paranormal hardliners are scrambling to distance themselves from him. This is a major victory.”

  John’s smile could have lit up the entire city. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Yes,” Kaniyar said. “Well done.” She cleared her throat and returned to business. “A couple of days ago, a birder in Francis Marion National Forest came across some skeletal remains. The medical examiner looked them over, and thinks this might be one of our cases.”

  John flipped open his folder. “We’ll take a look at it.”

  “Read the dossier in the car, Starkweather. A hiker found another body, near where the first was dumped. You, McNamara, and Jansen need to get your asses over there immediately, take a look around, and see if you come up with anything definitive as to whether this is the work of an NHE or a serial killer.”

  In other words, Caleb and Gray were expected to do their demon-sniffing trick again. If the body had soaked in a swamp for a while, any psychic scent would have dissipated by now. On the other hand, it would get them away from Forsyth.

  “Yes, ma’am,” John said. “We’ll head out there now.”

  Forsyth rose to his feet. “Excellent.” He smiled. “Our earlier tests here were fascinating, but I want to see our drakul in action. I’ll be tagging along while you investigate this case.”

  Fuck.

  * * *

  While Sean drove the big, black SUV with Strategic Entity Control stenciled on the side, John read through the file on the first body. Caleb sat in the back, plastered practically against the door, as if to put as much space between himself and Forsyth as possible.

  Why did Forsyth want to come along? Oh, John understood his interest in Gray—Forsyth headed up the Non-Human Entity Response and Research Division. RD might never have a chance like this again. But this sort of fieldwork must be way below Forsyth’s pay grade. Why not send someone else on this expedition as an observer? Especially since RD wasn’t even headquartered in Charleston?

  Worrying about it wouldn’t do any good. He just needed to focus on the case.

  “Here’s the rundown,” he said. The windshield wipers slapped rhythmically back and forth, and he silently hoped the rain stopped before they got out and hiked. “A bird watcher came across the first set of remains last week. Cut marks on the skeleton indicated someone using a knife and a meat cleaver had largely defleshed the body. Additionally, the killer severed the arms and legs using a cleaver, and either kept them or dumped them elsewhere.”

  “Christ,” Caleb muttered from the back. “Are we sure this isn’t just a ghoul’s leftovers? You know, stolen from a morgue or cemetery or what have you?”

  “The victim has a perimortem injury to the skull, across the face, inconsistent with defleshing. The cut marks match those made by the knife, so it seems likely it to have been made when the killer was subduing the victim. It may also have been an attempt to dehumanize the victim.” That was a common motive behind facial wounds, and the fact the killer took the limbs but left the skull behind made John think she didn’t want any reminders her victim used to be a person.

  “Alright,” Caleb said slowly. “But couldn’t it just be some sicko, then?”

  “Would a human serial killer really be a better alternative?”

  Caleb’s leather coat creaked as he folded his arms over his chest. “No. I guess not.”

  “Is there any evidence linking the death to an NHE?” Forsyth asked.

  “Not directly. But the bones have human tooth marks on them. The killer probably ate as much as possible on site, before setting to work with the knife, in order to take the rest home. The gnaw marks appear to belong to an adult human female. The remains belong to an adult male, probably Caucasian, between twenty-five and thirty-five years of age.” John glanced up from the folder. “It’s not impossible an unpossessed woman killed him, ate him, and carted his head and torso into the swamp for disposal. But it would be an extremely unusual crime for a woman to commit.”

  “True,” Forsyth agreed. “Female serial killers generally use other methods. Killing, eating, and dismembering victims is almost always a male trait when NHEs aren’t involved.”

  “Go us,” Caleb muttered.

  “Any idea as to the identity of the victim?” Sean asked.

  “He’s been tentatively identified as Roger Lynch of Columbia, SC. Lynch’s family reported him missing the week before last, when he failed to report to work or answer phone calls. Lynch matches the general description, although they’re still waiting on dental records for confirmation. According to his family, he’d met a woman online and they were planning on getting together here in Charleston. The Columbia police took his computer for evidence, and are supposed to be shipping it to us.”

  “Not much to go on,” Sean groused, as he pulled off on a smaller road leading into the National Forest. The wet pavement sang beneath the SUV’s tires.

  “Not yet,” John corrected. “With any luck, this new body will be fresh enough to at least confirm the involvement of an NHE.”

  Caleb hunched into his coat and glowered. John felt a flash of guilt—they shouldn’t be riding around the countryside, taking advantage of Gray’s NHE-finding abilities. They ought to be back at HQ, working day and night to find a way to exorcise Gray before it really was too late.

  If he followed through with his plan, exorcised Gray, then “accidentally” dropped the bottle to release the drakul back to his old life of hunting demons from inside a corpse…this might very well be his last case. Even if he didn’t get caught, even if an empath didn’t ferret out his guilt, Kaniyar might stick him behind a desk for such a mistake.

  Sean pulled into the gravel parking lot. A woman in a Forest Service uniform waited beside a sign indicating the lot served an “interpretive trail” in the swamp.

  John took off his seatbelt and climbed out into the rain. If this was his final case, he’d do his best to solve it.

  Chapter 2

  Caleb trailed after the rest of the group as they penetrated the swamp. Fog drifted between the enormous live oaks, and Spanish moss trailed from their branches like the hair of old women. Canals stretched off through the dark tangle of trees, birds flushing in droves as they tromped past. One of the signs said the “swamp” had begun its existence as a rice plantation, which explained the unnaturally straight waterways. God, between the heat and the mosquitoes in high summer, this must have been hell on earth for the slaves who’d worked it two centuries ago.

  “Here we are,” the Forest Service woman said; Caleb hadn’t caught her name. They’d only gone a short distance from the parking lot, and a few hundred yards off the trail at most. But with the dark waters of the canals all around, and the sucking mud and dense vegetation, he could barely believe anyone found the body in the first place.