| Supernatural Fiction posted March 24, 2019 | Chapters: |
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THE IMMORTAL/A Novel of the Breedline series
A chapter in the book THE IMMORTAL
Haunted Memories
by scongrove
| Background I'm excited to share my fifth Novel of the Breedline series. It's still in working progress, so any advice, or feedback would be appreciated. Thanks for reading! |
By one o’clock in the morning, Manuel Sanchez finally made it back to his apartment. After what he’d experienced, he had the sense that nothing was as it seemed. The rules as he knew them were completely off, and reality was slowly shifting into a bizarre realm. And the only thing on his mind at the moment was a bottle of Jim Beam. There was no way he was going to stay sober for the next twenty-four hours. Although, he knew it was going to take more than a few shots of Kentucky bourbon to deal with what he’d witnessed in the last few days.
Manuel never imagined in a million years that all the mythical stories of vampire-like creatures and werewolves actually existed. God, I feel like I’m losing my ever-loving mind, he thought as he poured himself a shot. And he’d seen his share of monsters—the human kind—during his years as a detective in San Francisco, California. Not to mention the fact that there was a secret species of humans born with the ability to shift into wolves the size of horses. Shit. And . . . it was brought to his attention—in no uncertain terms—something that would’ve sounded insane only a few days before.
He was born one of them.
Manuel wasn’t gifted with the wolf thing. According to the Breedline Covenant, you had to be born an identical twin for that. But he still carried the gene. He’d inherited it from his father, who had abandoned his mother, leaving her to raise Manuel and his older sister Lailah alone and on a waitress’s salary. Bastard.
It was nearly three o’clock when he decided to call it quits after four shots, and as he staggered to his bedroom, his sister came to mind. Christ, he thought, smoothing a hand across his brow. He wouldn’t believe it if he hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes. Lailah was an angel. Not in the virtue meaning, but an actual angel with wings. And a bad-ass battle angel at that. It gave him comfort knowing she was in a better place.
Forty-one years ago, Lailah was brutally murdered. He’d never forget that dreadful day. If only he could go back in time. At age thirteen, Manuel watched his sister climb in the backseat of her killer’s car. That damn green Camaro would forever be embedded in his head, tormenting him for years. Little did he know that particular day would be the last time he’d see her. As the car drove off, his instincts screamed danger. Instead of listening to his gut feeling, he let her go. He’d never forgive himself.
As hard as he tried to prevent them, more memories flooded in. The gloomy day of his sister’s funeral, he remembered the weeping crowd of mourners, the priest in black, and the flowers arranged upon Lailah’s coffin. Shortly after, the police became closed-mouthed about her death which didn’t surprise Manuel. The investigation was evidently kept quiet to prevent an outbreak of hysteria in the community . . . not to mention his sister’s best friend Carla Rosi. Her body was never found. While his sister’s case eventually went cold, Manuel started going to the shooting range three or four times a week. His instinct had been to find the monsters that had murdered his sister and blow their brains out. He didn’t know their names, but if it took the rest of his life, he’d find out. So far, the only thing he had to go on was the car they drove. It would’ve been easier if only he’d got a look at one of the bastard’s damned face, or maybe got the ID off the tags.
Years later, Manuel joined the California PD. Lailah’s death had been the reason he’d chose a career in law enforcement. Even though her case was never solved, Manuel was determined to reopen her file, which meant digging up old wounds. But he’d taken an oath to protect the innocent, and he’d keep that promise until he took his last breath.
Meanwhile, her killer remained at large, and Manuel swore he’d never rest in peace until he brought justice to the bastard that took his sister’s life. As soon as he was promoted to homicide, he all but exhausted himself, searching for the SOB responsible for her death. But when he’d seen the forensic photos—
God, he’d never get those images out of his head. It looked as if she’d been attacked by a wild animal . . . or a vampire. Her throat had been ripped open and every bit of her blood had been drained from her body. Her skin was a lifeless pale grey. And she had bite marks on her chest, wrists, and her inner thighs. Lailah’s homicide baffled the medical examiner and the detectives assigned to her case. But without any evidence or witnesses at the crime scene, and according to the type of injuries she suffered, they assumed it was some kind of satanic cult. It was the only explanation they could come up with. Besides, what kind of normal human being could be capable of such brutality, especially to an innocent, beautiful girl at the young age of seventeen? Savages!
Although Manuel now knew the world wasn’t as it seemed, he was damn determined to keep his promise. And that was to protect and serve. Obsessed with his sister’s case, he set aside his personal life—no loving wife or kids, no white picket anything, just dead bodies—and vowed to do everything in his power to keep this from happening to another innocent victim.
Few people knew anything about Manuel’s private life, except his partner, Detective Frank Perkins. At the station, he was nothing but serious, and sometimes he was all business while off work. He was known by everyone on the police force as a true bachelor. If one of the detective’s wives tried to set him up on a date, he refused to have anything to do with a relationship. It wasn’t that Manuel didn’t attract women. He was definitely easy on the eyes, and resembling the handsome Spanish actor, Antonio Banderas didn’t hurt. Sure, he visited the gym on a regular basis, stayed in shape boxing practically his whole life. Without a doubt, Manuel could give a young guy a run for his money. But he was only one man, and the world was full of monsters. And whatever killed his sister wasn’t human.
He stripped out of his clothes and practically collapsed onto the mattress. Man, he was so freakin’ tired. Closing his eyes, he let go of everything. It wasn’t long before he slipped into a dream. More like a nightmare.
Manuel was himself at the awkward age of thirteen, sitting on the steps of the old rundown house he grew up in, located in the San Francisco Bay Area. And then, the noise of a revving engine caught his attention. As he looked toward the obnoxious sound, he spotted a green Camaro parked in the drive. It had two black racing strips over the hood. Through dark tinted windows, he saw the silhouette of a man behind the wheel and someone in the passenger seat.
Manuel flinched when the horn blared. Shortly after, the front door slammed from behind. He glanced over his shoulder at his sister.
“I’ll be right back, Manuel,” Lailah said, ruffling his hair playfully.
Manuel looked up at her, his expression tense. “Lailah, please don’t go. You know Mama said we’re not supposed leave without her permission.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “Oh, Manuel, don’t worry. I’m just going for a quick ride.”
Manuel looked away from his sister and to the car waiting in the drive. He glared at the guy behind the wheel and said, “I’ve never seen that car before. Who are they?”
“They’re from out of town, visiting relatives,” she told him. “Quit worrying.” She rolled her eyes. “Carla introduced them to me yesterday at Quincy’s café.”
“But Lailah—”
“Give me a break, Manuel,” she groaned, shaking her head. “It’s fine. They’re nice guys.”
“Where’s your friend Carla?” Manuel asked, his tone demanding. “How come she’s not with them?”
“She’s staying at her cousin’s house. We’re picking her up.”
“And then where are you going? How long will you be gone?” He continued to grill her.
The horn blared again.
Lailah made a low grumbling sound. “Geez Manuel, quit being so nosy. I gotta go.”
As Lailah turned away and jogged toward the green sports car, her long red hair streamed out behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Manuel one last time. “I’ll be back before Mama gets home from work. And don’t be a tattletale.”
With an uneasy feeling, Manuel helplessly watched her pile into the backseat of the stranger’s car. She waved goodbye as it tore out of the paved drive, squealing the tires.
Manuel waved back as the Camaro sped away. Please God, he prayed. Please keep my sister safe.
That’s when the dream shifted into a nightmare, and Manuel begged his eyes to open. Instead, his lids remained closed, and he couldn’t stop the horror show.
He’d never forget the pain burning in his mother’s eyes when the police arrived with the bad news. She’d fell to her knees when they told her they’d found Lailah’s body lying in a ditch on the side of the road.
Manuel remembered the cops questioning him because he’d been the last person to see his sister alive. He told them he didn’t recognize the guys in the car and that he’d begged his sister not to go. But when Manuel recalled Lailah mentioning her friend Carla Rosi had introduced her to the suspects, he immediately relayed the information, praying it would help in the investigation. Manuel wanted justice. He wanted vengeance. He wanted the bastards to pay for what they’d done to his sister. A life-term sentence behind bars would be too easy. He wanted the persons responsible to suffer a long and agonizing death.
Later, when the police made a visit to Carla’s house for questioning, her parents told them their daughter was staying with her cousin for the weekend. It turned out Carla never came back after she was picked up by the two strangers driving the same green Camaro Lailah was last seen getting in. Ms. Rosi was immediately listed as a missing person. Her body was never discovered. Years later, Carla’s parents finally accepted that their daughter wasn’t coming home, and placed an empty coffin in a mausoleum in the Salem Cemetery. Manuel would never forget the look of despair on her father’s face, no doubt grief-stricken over his daughter’s death.
Now that the door to Manuel’s nightmare was open, it took him to a different place . . . to the place where bodies are kept. There was no way he’d allow his mother to identify Lailah’s body all alone.
As he entered the San Francisco Memorial Hospital, his hands went clammy and a cold sweat bloomed on his forehead. Swallowing the knot in his throat, Manuel reached for his mother’s hand and lightly squeezed.
Manuel stiffened as a doctor walked out of a revolving door and said, “Ms. Sanchez, please follow me. The viewing room is this way.” The physician gestured toward a long hallway. Above the pocket of her white coat, it read, JANICE KRAMER, MD, Chief of Surgery.
When they came to a stretch of whitewashed concrete walls, Manuel figured they were getting close, and he was right. Dr. Kramer stopped at a pair of double stainless-steel doors marked with the words MORGUE and AUTHORIZED STAFF.
“Wait here, please,” Dr. Kramer told them. “I’ll tell them you’re here.”
A few minutes later, the doctor opened the door. “The coroner is ready,” she spoke softly. “If you need more time—”
Manuel’s mother inhaled a deep breath. On a quick exhale, she said, “Please, I’d like to see my daughter.”
The doctor nodded and looked to Manuel, her expression troubling. And then she shifted her eyes back to Manuel’s mother. “Ms. Sanchez, are you sure you want your son to go?” Her tone seemed doubtful. “The body is—”
“It’s okay,” Manuel interjected. “I need to see my sister.”
The physician nodded.
As they walked inside, the smell of formaldehyde filled Manuel’s nostrils. It reminded him of his science classroom and dissecting frogs. His gut churned, and he took a deep breath.
Then, he saw a white curtain hanging on the far side of the room. It was pulled across, blocking the view of Lailah.
“Are you okay, Manuel?” his mother asked.
He nodded in silence.
A man wearing green scrubs stood by the white curtain. When the doctor gave him a slight nod, he parted the drapes down the middle in a slow swish, revealing a body lying on a metal table that was covered by a white sheet.
As Manuel fought to wake, to open his eyes, his heart went into overdrive.
Oh god, no . . . Please, not this memory.
With his hand clasped a hold of his mother’s, Manuel blinked tears as the medical examiner reached forward and folded the shroud back, unveiling his sister’s face.
Manuel stared down and took his first look at Lailah since he’d last seen her alive.
Her eyes were closed, her long, dark lashes down on her pale, freckled cheeks. Aside from the bright red hair, she no longer looked like the sister he once knew. Her mouth was blue, and her bottom lip split from what might have been someone’s hand or fist. The bandages on Lailah’s throat mostly hid the wounds, but it was obvious she’d suffered severe trauma.
“Oh, my poor baby,” Manuel’s mother sobbed into her hands. “Who would do such a thing?”
Emotion overcame Manuel, his throat swelled and tears streamed down his cheeks. In a moment of silence, he simply wrapped his arm around his mother and held on to her as tightly as he could. Finally, he whispered the only comforting words he could come up with. “I promise, Mama. Someday, I’ll find the person who did this.”
Dr. Kramer nodded at the examiner, who recovered Lailah’s face.
That same dreadful night, a sinister chill crept through Manuel as he huddled beneath the blankets in his bed, like a child afraid of the dark. He wondered who—what—could have done something this brutal to his sister? It couldn’t be human itself, he rationalized. Even an animal couldn’t drain a body of that much blood. But what if it could? What if the killers were some kind of supernatural being that could transform into some kind of creature . . . a vampire?
Manuel was letting his imagination take over now. Suddenly, he was afraid to peer from out of the covers, afraid even to move. Ice cold terror coursed through his veins, and his heart pounded inside his chest. For one brief moment, he thought he heard a voice calling out to him . . . whispering his name.
In the midst of Manuel’s horrific nightmare, images of his sister’s corpse were so vivid, they swirled together with the past and the present, combining with the young woman he’d found in the dumpster murdered a few weeks ago, until he could only see flashes of bright red hair, pale bare skin, blue lifeless lips, bruises, and teeth marks as if they had been attacked by some mythical creature . . .
“Lailah . . .” He whispered her name in his sleep, trying to bring back the image in his mind of her alive and happy. He couldn’t, though. The memories of her death stabbed through his heart, and all Manuel could see was her pale, lifeless face.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The pounding on Manuel’s apartment door and his French bulldog’s barking instantly brought his eyes open, the abrupt sounds kick-starting his heart. As he looked at the clock on the nightstand, he saw it was already . . . twelve o’clock in the afternoon? Shit! “Who the—”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
With its fur ruffled, the dog went into full-blown bark mode.
“Cool your jets, Ira,” Manuel told his furry companion. “It’s probably just the landlord.”
Ignoring the throbbing in his head, he swung his legs off the bed, and pushed himself to his feet. Then he sat back down, slowly. “Christ,” he grumbled, rubbing his aching temple. Coffee, he thought. I need coffee.
The pounding started again.
“Damn it,” he groaned, maneuvering back into the upright position. Who the hell is banging on my door at this time of the day? He cursed to himself. It’s Sunday for crying-out-loud. And where’s my damn pants?
Finally, he managed to locate his pants he’d previously worn the day before. On shaky legs, Manuel stumbled with his trousers, but caught his footing before he fell forward and pulled them up over his hips. Shit! If only he could get a little more sleep. And then he might feel like a human again.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Ira rushed out of the bedroom barking, her nails clipping across the hardwood floor.
“Keep your damn pants on!” he called out as he zipped up, pulled on a T-shirt and then headed for the living room. “I’m coming for Pete’s sake!”
Manuel walked over to the door and put his eye to the peephole. When he saw the face of the person standing outside his door, he rolled over and pressed his back against the wall. Shit!
“I know you’re in there,” Captain Hodge said. “Come on, Detective Sanchez. Open the damn door.”
Releasing an aggravated sigh, Manuel flipped the locks and threw open the door. Before he could say a word, Hodge barged past him.
Ira bared her teeth at Captain Hodge and growled.
“Nice to see you, too, Ira.” Hodge’s voice suddenly became familiar to the dog as she came running with her tail wagging.
“Detective, don’t you ever answer your damn phone?” Hodge asked as he bent down to pet Ira. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”
“Sorry Captain. I’ve been a little detained,” he said with his best I don’t give a shit snarl while shutting the door.
Hodge looked up with his brows furrowed. “You mean . . . drunk.”
Manuel shrugged and plopped down in a tattered chair that faced the television. “Hell Captain, you’re the one that gave me the time off.”
“Okay, okay,” Hodge said solemnly as he sat down in the chair across from Manuel. “I get it. What you do in your free time is none of my business.”
“Look Captain, I’m exhausted,” he said around a yawn. “Was there any particular reason you stopped by?”
“Yeah, well,” Hodge said, swallowing hard. “I thought it would be best if I came here and told you in person.”
Manuel frowned. “Tell me what?”
Hodge leaned forward, his face dead serious. “I’ve got a lead on an old cold case. And it has to do with your sister.”
Manuel’s eyes snapped wide. “What—”
To be continued . . .
Manuel never imagined in a million years that all the mythical stories of vampire-like creatures and werewolves actually existed. God, I feel like I’m losing my ever-loving mind, he thought as he poured himself a shot. And he’d seen his share of monsters—the human kind—during his years as a detective in San Francisco, California. Not to mention the fact that there was a secret species of humans born with the ability to shift into wolves the size of horses. Shit. And . . . it was brought to his attention—in no uncertain terms—something that would’ve sounded insane only a few days before.
He was born one of them.
Manuel wasn’t gifted with the wolf thing. According to the Breedline Covenant, you had to be born an identical twin for that. But he still carried the gene. He’d inherited it from his father, who had abandoned his mother, leaving her to raise Manuel and his older sister Lailah alone and on a waitress’s salary. Bastard.
It was nearly three o’clock when he decided to call it quits after four shots, and as he staggered to his bedroom, his sister came to mind. Christ, he thought, smoothing a hand across his brow. He wouldn’t believe it if he hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes. Lailah was an angel. Not in the virtue meaning, but an actual angel with wings. And a bad-ass battle angel at that. It gave him comfort knowing she was in a better place.
Forty-one years ago, Lailah was brutally murdered. He’d never forget that dreadful day. If only he could go back in time. At age thirteen, Manuel watched his sister climb in the backseat of her killer’s car. That damn green Camaro would forever be embedded in his head, tormenting him for years. Little did he know that particular day would be the last time he’d see her. As the car drove off, his instincts screamed danger. Instead of listening to his gut feeling, he let her go. He’d never forgive himself.
As hard as he tried to prevent them, more memories flooded in. The gloomy day of his sister’s funeral, he remembered the weeping crowd of mourners, the priest in black, and the flowers arranged upon Lailah’s coffin. Shortly after, the police became closed-mouthed about her death which didn’t surprise Manuel. The investigation was evidently kept quiet to prevent an outbreak of hysteria in the community . . . not to mention his sister’s best friend Carla Rosi. Her body was never found. While his sister’s case eventually went cold, Manuel started going to the shooting range three or four times a week. His instinct had been to find the monsters that had murdered his sister and blow their brains out. He didn’t know their names, but if it took the rest of his life, he’d find out. So far, the only thing he had to go on was the car they drove. It would’ve been easier if only he’d got a look at one of the bastard’s damned face, or maybe got the ID off the tags.
Years later, Manuel joined the California PD. Lailah’s death had been the reason he’d chose a career in law enforcement. Even though her case was never solved, Manuel was determined to reopen her file, which meant digging up old wounds. But he’d taken an oath to protect the innocent, and he’d keep that promise until he took his last breath.
Meanwhile, her killer remained at large, and Manuel swore he’d never rest in peace until he brought justice to the bastard that took his sister’s life. As soon as he was promoted to homicide, he all but exhausted himself, searching for the SOB responsible for her death. But when he’d seen the forensic photos—
God, he’d never get those images out of his head. It looked as if she’d been attacked by a wild animal . . . or a vampire. Her throat had been ripped open and every bit of her blood had been drained from her body. Her skin was a lifeless pale grey. And she had bite marks on her chest, wrists, and her inner thighs. Lailah’s homicide baffled the medical examiner and the detectives assigned to her case. But without any evidence or witnesses at the crime scene, and according to the type of injuries she suffered, they assumed it was some kind of satanic cult. It was the only explanation they could come up with. Besides, what kind of normal human being could be capable of such brutality, especially to an innocent, beautiful girl at the young age of seventeen? Savages!
Although Manuel now knew the world wasn’t as it seemed, he was damn determined to keep his promise. And that was to protect and serve. Obsessed with his sister’s case, he set aside his personal life—no loving wife or kids, no white picket anything, just dead bodies—and vowed to do everything in his power to keep this from happening to another innocent victim.
Few people knew anything about Manuel’s private life, except his partner, Detective Frank Perkins. At the station, he was nothing but serious, and sometimes he was all business while off work. He was known by everyone on the police force as a true bachelor. If one of the detective’s wives tried to set him up on a date, he refused to have anything to do with a relationship. It wasn’t that Manuel didn’t attract women. He was definitely easy on the eyes, and resembling the handsome Spanish actor, Antonio Banderas didn’t hurt. Sure, he visited the gym on a regular basis, stayed in shape boxing practically his whole life. Without a doubt, Manuel could give a young guy a run for his money. But he was only one man, and the world was full of monsters. And whatever killed his sister wasn’t human.
He stripped out of his clothes and practically collapsed onto the mattress. Man, he was so freakin’ tired. Closing his eyes, he let go of everything. It wasn’t long before he slipped into a dream. More like a nightmare.
Manuel was himself at the awkward age of thirteen, sitting on the steps of the old rundown house he grew up in, located in the San Francisco Bay Area. And then, the noise of a revving engine caught his attention. As he looked toward the obnoxious sound, he spotted a green Camaro parked in the drive. It had two black racing strips over the hood. Through dark tinted windows, he saw the silhouette of a man behind the wheel and someone in the passenger seat.
Manuel flinched when the horn blared. Shortly after, the front door slammed from behind. He glanced over his shoulder at his sister.
“I’ll be right back, Manuel,” Lailah said, ruffling his hair playfully.
Manuel looked up at her, his expression tense. “Lailah, please don’t go. You know Mama said we’re not supposed leave without her permission.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “Oh, Manuel, don’t worry. I’m just going for a quick ride.”
Manuel looked away from his sister and to the car waiting in the drive. He glared at the guy behind the wheel and said, “I’ve never seen that car before. Who are they?”
“They’re from out of town, visiting relatives,” she told him. “Quit worrying.” She rolled her eyes. “Carla introduced them to me yesterday at Quincy’s café.”
“But Lailah—”
“Give me a break, Manuel,” she groaned, shaking her head. “It’s fine. They’re nice guys.”
“Where’s your friend Carla?” Manuel asked, his tone demanding. “How come she’s not with them?”
“She’s staying at her cousin’s house. We’re picking her up.”
“And then where are you going? How long will you be gone?” He continued to grill her.
The horn blared again.
Lailah made a low grumbling sound. “Geez Manuel, quit being so nosy. I gotta go.”
As Lailah turned away and jogged toward the green sports car, her long red hair streamed out behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Manuel one last time. “I’ll be back before Mama gets home from work. And don’t be a tattletale.”
With an uneasy feeling, Manuel helplessly watched her pile into the backseat of the stranger’s car. She waved goodbye as it tore out of the paved drive, squealing the tires.
Manuel waved back as the Camaro sped away. Please God, he prayed. Please keep my sister safe.
That’s when the dream shifted into a nightmare, and Manuel begged his eyes to open. Instead, his lids remained closed, and he couldn’t stop the horror show.
He’d never forget the pain burning in his mother’s eyes when the police arrived with the bad news. She’d fell to her knees when they told her they’d found Lailah’s body lying in a ditch on the side of the road.
Manuel remembered the cops questioning him because he’d been the last person to see his sister alive. He told them he didn’t recognize the guys in the car and that he’d begged his sister not to go. But when Manuel recalled Lailah mentioning her friend Carla Rosi had introduced her to the suspects, he immediately relayed the information, praying it would help in the investigation. Manuel wanted justice. He wanted vengeance. He wanted the bastards to pay for what they’d done to his sister. A life-term sentence behind bars would be too easy. He wanted the persons responsible to suffer a long and agonizing death.
Later, when the police made a visit to Carla’s house for questioning, her parents told them their daughter was staying with her cousin for the weekend. It turned out Carla never came back after she was picked up by the two strangers driving the same green Camaro Lailah was last seen getting in. Ms. Rosi was immediately listed as a missing person. Her body was never discovered. Years later, Carla’s parents finally accepted that their daughter wasn’t coming home, and placed an empty coffin in a mausoleum in the Salem Cemetery. Manuel would never forget the look of despair on her father’s face, no doubt grief-stricken over his daughter’s death.
Now that the door to Manuel’s nightmare was open, it took him to a different place . . . to the place where bodies are kept. There was no way he’d allow his mother to identify Lailah’s body all alone.
As he entered the San Francisco Memorial Hospital, his hands went clammy and a cold sweat bloomed on his forehead. Swallowing the knot in his throat, Manuel reached for his mother’s hand and lightly squeezed.
Manuel stiffened as a doctor walked out of a revolving door and said, “Ms. Sanchez, please follow me. The viewing room is this way.” The physician gestured toward a long hallway. Above the pocket of her white coat, it read, JANICE KRAMER, MD, Chief of Surgery.
When they came to a stretch of whitewashed concrete walls, Manuel figured they were getting close, and he was right. Dr. Kramer stopped at a pair of double stainless-steel doors marked with the words MORGUE and AUTHORIZED STAFF.
“Wait here, please,” Dr. Kramer told them. “I’ll tell them you’re here.”
A few minutes later, the doctor opened the door. “The coroner is ready,” she spoke softly. “If you need more time—”
Manuel’s mother inhaled a deep breath. On a quick exhale, she said, “Please, I’d like to see my daughter.”
The doctor nodded and looked to Manuel, her expression troubling. And then she shifted her eyes back to Manuel’s mother. “Ms. Sanchez, are you sure you want your son to go?” Her tone seemed doubtful. “The body is—”
“It’s okay,” Manuel interjected. “I need to see my sister.”
The physician nodded.
As they walked inside, the smell of formaldehyde filled Manuel’s nostrils. It reminded him of his science classroom and dissecting frogs. His gut churned, and he took a deep breath.
Then, he saw a white curtain hanging on the far side of the room. It was pulled across, blocking the view of Lailah.
“Are you okay, Manuel?” his mother asked.
He nodded in silence.
A man wearing green scrubs stood by the white curtain. When the doctor gave him a slight nod, he parted the drapes down the middle in a slow swish, revealing a body lying on a metal table that was covered by a white sheet.
As Manuel fought to wake, to open his eyes, his heart went into overdrive.
Oh god, no . . . Please, not this memory.
With his hand clasped a hold of his mother’s, Manuel blinked tears as the medical examiner reached forward and folded the shroud back, unveiling his sister’s face.
Manuel stared down and took his first look at Lailah since he’d last seen her alive.
Her eyes were closed, her long, dark lashes down on her pale, freckled cheeks. Aside from the bright red hair, she no longer looked like the sister he once knew. Her mouth was blue, and her bottom lip split from what might have been someone’s hand or fist. The bandages on Lailah’s throat mostly hid the wounds, but it was obvious she’d suffered severe trauma.
“Oh, my poor baby,” Manuel’s mother sobbed into her hands. “Who would do such a thing?”
Emotion overcame Manuel, his throat swelled and tears streamed down his cheeks. In a moment of silence, he simply wrapped his arm around his mother and held on to her as tightly as he could. Finally, he whispered the only comforting words he could come up with. “I promise, Mama. Someday, I’ll find the person who did this.”
Dr. Kramer nodded at the examiner, who recovered Lailah’s face.
That same dreadful night, a sinister chill crept through Manuel as he huddled beneath the blankets in his bed, like a child afraid of the dark. He wondered who—what—could have done something this brutal to his sister? It couldn’t be human itself, he rationalized. Even an animal couldn’t drain a body of that much blood. But what if it could? What if the killers were some kind of supernatural being that could transform into some kind of creature . . . a vampire?
Manuel was letting his imagination take over now. Suddenly, he was afraid to peer from out of the covers, afraid even to move. Ice cold terror coursed through his veins, and his heart pounded inside his chest. For one brief moment, he thought he heard a voice calling out to him . . . whispering his name.
In the midst of Manuel’s horrific nightmare, images of his sister’s corpse were so vivid, they swirled together with the past and the present, combining with the young woman he’d found in the dumpster murdered a few weeks ago, until he could only see flashes of bright red hair, pale bare skin, blue lifeless lips, bruises, and teeth marks as if they had been attacked by some mythical creature . . .
“Lailah . . .” He whispered her name in his sleep, trying to bring back the image in his mind of her alive and happy. He couldn’t, though. The memories of her death stabbed through his heart, and all Manuel could see was her pale, lifeless face.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The pounding on Manuel’s apartment door and his French bulldog’s barking instantly brought his eyes open, the abrupt sounds kick-starting his heart. As he looked at the clock on the nightstand, he saw it was already . . . twelve o’clock in the afternoon? Shit! “Who the—”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
With its fur ruffled, the dog went into full-blown bark mode.
“Cool your jets, Ira,” Manuel told his furry companion. “It’s probably just the landlord.”
Ignoring the throbbing in his head, he swung his legs off the bed, and pushed himself to his feet. Then he sat back down, slowly. “Christ,” he grumbled, rubbing his aching temple. Coffee, he thought. I need coffee.
The pounding started again.
“Damn it,” he groaned, maneuvering back into the upright position. Who the hell is banging on my door at this time of the day? He cursed to himself. It’s Sunday for crying-out-loud. And where’s my damn pants?
Finally, he managed to locate his pants he’d previously worn the day before. On shaky legs, Manuel stumbled with his trousers, but caught his footing before he fell forward and pulled them up over his hips. Shit! If only he could get a little more sleep. And then he might feel like a human again.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Ira rushed out of the bedroom barking, her nails clipping across the hardwood floor.
“Keep your damn pants on!” he called out as he zipped up, pulled on a T-shirt and then headed for the living room. “I’m coming for Pete’s sake!”
Manuel walked over to the door and put his eye to the peephole. When he saw the face of the person standing outside his door, he rolled over and pressed his back against the wall. Shit!
“I know you’re in there,” Captain Hodge said. “Come on, Detective Sanchez. Open the damn door.”
Releasing an aggravated sigh, Manuel flipped the locks and threw open the door. Before he could say a word, Hodge barged past him.
Ira bared her teeth at Captain Hodge and growled.
“Nice to see you, too, Ira.” Hodge’s voice suddenly became familiar to the dog as she came running with her tail wagging.
“Detective, don’t you ever answer your damn phone?” Hodge asked as he bent down to pet Ira. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”
“Sorry Captain. I’ve been a little detained,” he said with his best I don’t give a shit snarl while shutting the door.
Hodge looked up with his brows furrowed. “You mean . . . drunk.”
Manuel shrugged and plopped down in a tattered chair that faced the television. “Hell Captain, you’re the one that gave me the time off.”
“Okay, okay,” Hodge said solemnly as he sat down in the chair across from Manuel. “I get it. What you do in your free time is none of my business.”
“Look Captain, I’m exhausted,” he said around a yawn. “Was there any particular reason you stopped by?”
“Yeah, well,” Hodge said, swallowing hard. “I thought it would be best if I came here and told you in person.”
Manuel frowned. “Tell me what?”
Hodge leaned forward, his face dead serious. “I’ve got a lead on an old cold case. And it has to do with your sister.”
Manuel’s eyes snapped wide. “What—”
To be continued . . .
NOTE: This is not part of the chapter. A reference of terms and characters used in the chapter, especially for new readers.
BREEDLINE - A species of humans that have the ability to change from human form into a wolf. They are not like the old legend of the Lycanthropy myth. Breedline species can shift into their wolf at will. The moon has no power over them. They do not pass their ability to other humans with a bite or scratch like the Lycanthropy myth.
The Breedline gene is passed down to offspring that are born identical twins. Although they live among humans, their species must be kept secret.
In wolf form, they have super-strength, speed, and heightened senses. Compared to humans, Breedlines have tremendous advantages when it comes to health. Their bodies heal fast and are not subject to illnesses or diseases. The only thing that slows their healing process is silver. It is their kryptonite. Besides old age, a silver bullet to the brain is the only thing deadly to the species.
All males change into their wolf at the age of eighteen. Females do not go through the change until they make love to their Breedline bonded mate.
BREEDLINE TWINS - Identical twins that are born from either one or both parents of the Breedline species. They have a strong, unbreakable bond from birth, are born with telepathic abilities, and have the power to sense the other's emotions or injuries. In some cases, the bond between twins is so strong that if one dies, the other twin may pass on, especially if they don't have a mate.
BREEDLINE BONDING - The male Breedline spends their life in search of their bonded mate. When the male comes in contact with her, he instantly feels a simultaneous, desirable attraction and she becomes the most important thing in his life. He is there to love, protect, and cherish her until death. Once they are mated, they bond for life. It is possible for them to have more than one mate in their lifespan.
BELOVED - A word used by a Breedline to express the bond to their mate.
DOUBLE BONDED - In some cases, male Breedline twins bond with the same female but one will carry a stronger bond. Usually one of them must sacrifice for the other twin.
BREEDLINE COVENANT - The Breedline species must live within the boundaries of a Covenant, which is only formed with their species. The Covenant is governed and ruled by a head council. The council keeps their laws in order and oversees the species population.
THE BREEDLINE QUEEN - Over centuries, the Breedline Covenant is ruled by a true queen. If there is no queen living, the Covenants are governed by an appointed head council until another one is born. A Breedline queen is born once every one hundred years. Her massive stature, black fur, and red eyes are the queen's trademarks. Her alpha wolf has twice the strength, speed, and size of any Breedline. The queen is expected to rule over all the Breedline Covenants where she will be respected and obeyed by all Breedline. This is their absolute True Law.
THE QUEEN'S RING - This ring has been passed down to all Breedline queens for generations. When the new queen places the ring on, it instantly shifts in size to fit her finger.
TRUE LAW - All Breedline Covenants have an ancient book of laws. If either sex disobeys the Breedline laws, they can be shunned, or no longer protected by their Covenant. If a Breedline takes another life out of revenge, or evil - other than protecting their life, and the life of another - they will never have the ability to shift back into human form and cast out as a rogue wolf.
ROGUE WOLF - A Breedline shunned by their Covenant for taking another life out of revenge or evil and forced to live as a wolf until death without the ability to change into human form again. Some rogue wolves form into packs, which can be dangerous for other Breedline species.
Detective Manuel Sanchez - Raised by a single mother, Manuel never knew his real father. At age thirteen, his older sister Lailah, was murdered, but her killer was never apprehended. Consumed by Lailah's murder, Manuel chooses a career in police enforcement in hopes of someday finally bringing justice to his sister. Now in his fifties - living his life as a bachelor and a homicide detective - he discovers he's not entirely human, and has inherited his father's Breedline genetics.
Detective Frank Perkins - He is Manuel Sanchez's partner, and discovers the secret world of the Breedline. Born as a human, Frank pledges his loyalty to the Breedline. Fighting alongside his partner, they take an oath to help the Breedline protect the world from corruption and unknown creatures that prey on the innocent.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. BREEDLINE - A species of humans that have the ability to change from human form into a wolf. They are not like the old legend of the Lycanthropy myth. Breedline species can shift into their wolf at will. The moon has no power over them. They do not pass their ability to other humans with a bite or scratch like the Lycanthropy myth.
The Breedline gene is passed down to offspring that are born identical twins. Although they live among humans, their species must be kept secret.
In wolf form, they have super-strength, speed, and heightened senses. Compared to humans, Breedlines have tremendous advantages when it comes to health. Their bodies heal fast and are not subject to illnesses or diseases. The only thing that slows their healing process is silver. It is their kryptonite. Besides old age, a silver bullet to the brain is the only thing deadly to the species.
All males change into their wolf at the age of eighteen. Females do not go through the change until they make love to their Breedline bonded mate.
BREEDLINE TWINS - Identical twins that are born from either one or both parents of the Breedline species. They have a strong, unbreakable bond from birth, are born with telepathic abilities, and have the power to sense the other's emotions or injuries. In some cases, the bond between twins is so strong that if one dies, the other twin may pass on, especially if they don't have a mate.
BREEDLINE BONDING - The male Breedline spends their life in search of their bonded mate. When the male comes in contact with her, he instantly feels a simultaneous, desirable attraction and she becomes the most important thing in his life. He is there to love, protect, and cherish her until death. Once they are mated, they bond for life. It is possible for them to have more than one mate in their lifespan.
BELOVED - A word used by a Breedline to express the bond to their mate.
DOUBLE BONDED - In some cases, male Breedline twins bond with the same female but one will carry a stronger bond. Usually one of them must sacrifice for the other twin.
BREEDLINE COVENANT - The Breedline species must live within the boundaries of a Covenant, which is only formed with their species. The Covenant is governed and ruled by a head council. The council keeps their laws in order and oversees the species population.
THE BREEDLINE QUEEN - Over centuries, the Breedline Covenant is ruled by a true queen. If there is no queen living, the Covenants are governed by an appointed head council until another one is born. A Breedline queen is born once every one hundred years. Her massive stature, black fur, and red eyes are the queen's trademarks. Her alpha wolf has twice the strength, speed, and size of any Breedline. The queen is expected to rule over all the Breedline Covenants where she will be respected and obeyed by all Breedline. This is their absolute True Law.
THE QUEEN'S RING - This ring has been passed down to all Breedline queens for generations. When the new queen places the ring on, it instantly shifts in size to fit her finger.
TRUE LAW - All Breedline Covenants have an ancient book of laws. If either sex disobeys the Breedline laws, they can be shunned, or no longer protected by their Covenant. If a Breedline takes another life out of revenge, or evil - other than protecting their life, and the life of another - they will never have the ability to shift back into human form and cast out as a rogue wolf.
ROGUE WOLF - A Breedline shunned by their Covenant for taking another life out of revenge or evil and forced to live as a wolf until death without the ability to change into human form again. Some rogue wolves form into packs, which can be dangerous for other Breedline species.
Detective Manuel Sanchez - Raised by a single mother, Manuel never knew his real father. At age thirteen, his older sister Lailah, was murdered, but her killer was never apprehended. Consumed by Lailah's murder, Manuel chooses a career in police enforcement in hopes of someday finally bringing justice to his sister. Now in his fifties - living his life as a bachelor and a homicide detective - he discovers he's not entirely human, and has inherited his father's Breedline genetics.
Detective Frank Perkins - He is Manuel Sanchez's partner, and discovers the secret world of the Breedline. Born as a human, Frank pledges his loyalty to the Breedline. Fighting alongside his partner, they take an oath to help the Breedline protect the world from corruption and unknown creatures that prey on the innocent.
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