dark faerie 06 - ever dead (4 page)

He raised his hand to rub the back of his head. Noticing this, Dr. Jacoby gripped Hank’s shoulders and turned him around brusquely.

“You should probably get that looked at, Hank,” The doctor said with concern.

“I’ll be ok,” Hank replied while dropping his hand. “It’s just a bump.”

“Better safe than sorry,” the doctor imparted before kneeling again next to the ash.

“This pile is definitely bigger than the last one,” the doctor mumbled, “Probably enough to encompass a seven foot man.”

Catching a glint of something, the doctor reached into his bag and pulled out a large set of tongs. Poking the tool deftly into the ash, he clamped on to a piece of metal and pulled it out of the pile.

“What do you make of that?” he asked Hank as he held it up for him to see.

“A lighter,” Hank responded as he took it into his gloved hand. “Looks like an old Zippo.”

“A very distinctive lighter if you ask me,” the doctor opined, “That particular design may be rare.”

Hank took in the design, making note of the four-leaf clover and the little representation of a leprechaun with his fists up. 

“Maybe not
that
rare doc,” Hank noted as he turned it over in his hand. “Not if you’re a fan of Notre Dame’s Fighting Irish.”

Dr. Jacoby shrugged. “We’re pretty far west for them to have many fans in this area. Still, maybe someone out there has seen a guy with a lighter like this.”

Hank grinned, “I may just know someone that fills that bill.”

***

Samuel and Roscoe leaned over the lighter in Hank’s hand.

“That be that feller Lucian’s lighter,” Roscoe stated, pointing at it knowingly.

“Yep, Lucian,” Samuel added with a nod.

“Can you describe him?” Hank asked as he took out his notebook.

“Kinda short, kinda looked like that leprechaun on the lighter.”

“Like a leprechaun!” Roscoe nodded in agreement. “His skin were always a might yellow, like there were something wrong with ‘im.”

Hank was confused. “He wasn’t tall?” he asked for clarification. The man that he’d seen was
very
tall, and definitely
didn’t
resemble a leprechaun.

Samuel looked at Hank like he was crazy. “Did I say tall?”

Looking at Roscoe, “Roscoe, did I say Lucian were tall?”

“Nope,” Roscoe replied, shaking his head. “You said
kinda short,
I member it like it were yesterday.”

Samuel looked back at Hank, “I
said
he were short!
Don’t you listen good?”

Frustrated, Hank looked down at his notes. “Think he would have let somebody else borrow it…the lighter?”

“Nope,” both men replied in unison

“Not unless he were dead,” Roscoe added.

“Wait a minute,” Samuel cut in, “Is he dead?”

Hank shrugged, “Found the lighter in a pile of ash, like the belt buckle.”

Samuel and Roscoe shook their heads.

“That be a shame,” Roscoe mumbled as he looked down.

“A shame,” Samuel added.

“Did you get along with him?” Hank asked then.

Both men shrugged.

“Didn’t worry much bout im,” Roscoe offered.

“Not like Albert,” Samuel added, “He were meaner thin a snake!”

Hank added some more information to his notes.

“Anything else you can think of?” Hank asked finally.

“He sparkled too, like Albert,” Roscoe offered.

“Yep, he were sparkly.” Samuel affirmed.

Closing his notebook, Hank looked down at Lucifer, who was returning his stare.

“Yeah,” Hank mumbled as he stood in front of the men, “I believe you.”

Chapter 6

Thwack!

The hickory struck the Sparring Dummy resoundingly.

Thwack…thwack!

Hank’s concentration was absolute as he deftly moved around the dummy, striking it with various combinations of hits and thrusts. Spinning the hanbo over his head with lightning speed, he finished the series of strikes with a lethal combination.

Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack!

As if by magic, the hickory walking stick moved under his arm and was clamped by Hank’s elbow. His forearm then quickly wrapped itself around the top of the stick like a snake as his hand cupped over the rounded end.

Feet together, Hank bowed stiffly toward the dummy as if it were a respected foe.

Feeling slightly better, he moved across the dojo and sat on a bench on the side of the room. Taking up a towel he started drying his sweat-soaked hair, carefully avoiding the throbbing bump on the back of his head.

He lost his cool today in the face of the unexpected.

He was not happy. Not one bit.

Staying calm in the face of adversity was a hallmark of his training, and today he failed at it…big time.

He gingerly felt at the knot, wincing at the touch. It stung and made his entire head swim.

It was what he deserved.

Reaching to his right, Hank rubbed Lucifer’s head. “That was certainly strange, wasn’t it girl?”

Luci’s eyes were locked on him as he spoke, seeming to understand.

He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Reliving the unusual events of earlier, he once again tried to make sense of what had happened:

A large man had suddenly appeared on the street.

Another was suddenly behind him, asking him pointed questions using terms that Hank had never heard before.

Luci seemed to not recognize him during that time.

And it all seemed to revolve around him placing the stone around his neck.

Opening his eyes, Hank stood and quickly moved across the floor. Picking up the green stone, he stared at it intently before taking a deep breath and dropping the chain over his head.

Turning quickly, he readied himself for what was to come, ready to react at a moments notice to whatever happened next…

Nothing.

Glancing over at Lucifer, he noticed that she was just watching him, her tongue out in a comfortable pant.

It would seem that she recognized him.

Warily looking about the room, Hank could discern nothing out of the ordinary.

Letting out a breath, he removed the stone with some embarrassment.

Maybe it wasn’t the stone after all.

Shaking his head, he lowered the stone back onto the table, giving it a distasteful glare.

“Maybe I’m just going crazy girl,” he spoke to Lucifer as he walked back toward the dog.

“Maybe I just need some rest.”

Picking up his towel, he led the red dog out of the room.

“A warm shower and some shuteye, yeah, that’s what I need.”

Chapter 7

Hank and Lucifer were an unlikely pairing on the PPB. Never in the history of the Portland Police Bureau had a homicide detective been paired with a K9.

Five years before, Hank had just been elevated to Homicide after several years on the force, drawing a grizzled old detective as his partner, Amos Langtree.

Their very first investigation was also on the south side of town. Down a long, dark alley, a homeless man had been murdered. Old Amos was fit to be tied. Known as Moss to most in the unit, he was lamenting the fact that they had assigned him to investigate one of the
homeless.

“There are
thousands
of them,” he grumbled as he drove to the scene. “Who gives a shit if someone thins the herd a little?”

By contrast, Hank believed that everyone deserved to have their life protected, no matter how decrepit that life may be. Once a murder had been committed, it was their duty to find the murderer.

But Hank was new to Homicide, so he kept his opinion to himself for the moment. He was hesitant about rocking the boat on his first day at work.

Exiting the car, they walked toward the prone figure, Moss grumbling with every step as he stared at his feet. Hank was more alert however, eyes forward, watching two of the patrolmen beside the body. He immediately recognized that they were not just standing there, waiting for Homicide to arrive.

They were tense!

“What’s going on fellas,” Hank asked as he came upon them.

“Damn devil dog!” one of the officers exclaimed, “Won’t let us near the body.”

Hank spotted her then, a red puppy, not more than six months old by his reckoning, baring her teeth and growling at anyone that approached. He actually had very little in his experience to base that opinion on however, having never owned a dog before.

“We’ve called Animal Control,” one of the officers mentioned then. “They said it might be awhile.”

Hank kneeled down on the dirty asphalt, hoping to calm the animal.

“What’s the matter girl?” he said softly. “Was this man your friend?”

Holding his hand out toward the dog, it didn’t offer to bite him but merely moved to the side before continuing her growling at him.

Only she wasn’t really growling at him he noticed, nor did she seem to be growling at any of the other cops near him. Turning, Hank tried to follow where the dog was actually looking, his eyes coming to rest on a pair of dumpsters lined against the side of the alley.

Studying them for a moment, Hank noticed that they were sitting at a funny angle. Standing, he made his way over to the containers. Once there, he discovered that while the front of the dumpsters were touching, they were angled away from each other in the back, leaving a small space between them.

Also noticing that they both had wheels, Hank pushed one of the trash receptacles away from the other, not overly surprised at what he found behind them.

“Hey Moss, take a look at this.”

The old detective looked his way, agitated that he had to move from where he was standing. Finally ambling over, his jaw dropped when he saw what Hank had discovered.

“Who’s that?” Moss finally asked.

“I would say that is our murderer, based on the bloody knife in his hand,” Hank replied with a grin.

Another homeless man by the looks of his clothing, the man was unconscious, the air around him reeking of cheap liquor.

Moss looked over at his young partner. “How’d you figure out he was here so fast?”

“I didn’t really,” Hank admitted, “It was the dog. It wasn’t growling at us, it was just avoiding us. It was growling at the dumpster!”

Looking over at the dog, he suddenly realized that it was no longer growling at all; instead it was sitting quietly by its dead owner, panting as it watched Hank and the others.

I’ll be damned
, he whispered as he made his way back over to the dog. Kneeling again, this time the red dog didn’t growl at him when he reached out his hand.

“Feel better girl?” he whispered as he gently rubbed her head. The dog’s bright eyes stayed on him, conveying a calm intelligence that seemed to mesmerize Hank. Moving her head a little, she then licked his hand.

“Looks like you’ve found yourself a friend,” one of the patrolmen said from behind him.

“I think I have,” Hank mumbled, grinning as he continued to pet the dog.

“I think we should still name her Devil Dog though,” the other patrolman opinioned as he too joined the group. “That red coloring and those pointed ears? What else could you call a dog like that?”

Hank grinned as the dog moved over and sat next to him.

“I think I’ll call her Luci…short for Lucifer.”

***

That day had been five years ago now. Hank took Luci home that night and was continually amazed at how intelligent she was. Not knowing anything about training an animal, he started pouring through web pages and books on the subject.

And Luci excelled at every stage of her training, seeming to revel at Hank’s attention. Once he had taught her a few easy tricks however, he got to thinking about a more specialized training.

Using his own money, he enrolled her in a school that had a class for Police Dogs. Again she excelled, easily accomplishing her tasks quicker than any of the other dogs in the class.

When Moss put in for retirement a year later, Hank approached his captain about making Luci his partner.

It hadn’t been an easy sell.

What had finally sealed the deal however was simply money. The budget conscious PPB knew that ultimately their K9 officers were cheaper than a human. And it wasn’t like there weren’t other K9’s on the department.

Lucifer was given a six month probationary period to prove herself. By the end of those six months, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Luci was now a permanent fixture in the department.

Hank thought through all of this as he lay in bed. He hadn’t slept well, and since it was a Saturday, he let himself rest for a few extra minutes. He was slightly stoved up from the fall yesterday, and the knot on the back of his head still throbbed, although not as bad as the day before.

Suddenly, Luci was staring at him from the edge of the bed, her leash in her mouth. He always started their Saturdays with a run first thing, stopping at a park along the trail to put in some essential Frisbee throwing for Luci’s benefit.

How she always knew when it was Saturday never ceased to amaze him.

“Ok, ok, I’m up,” Hank mumbled as he threw off the sheets. Slipping on some shorts and a tee-shirt, he made his way toward the front door to find his shoes.

The plague of people turning to ash had kept him from sleeping most of the night. It was the strangest thing that he had ever encountered; in fact, it was the strangest thing he ever heard of!

He would have to wait until Monday of course to talk to Dr. Jacoby to see if the second ‘victim’ was also one of the
other
people, but he was fairly certain what the doctor would tell him.

Unfortunately,
knowing
that they were different didn’t help him, not as much as knowing where they came from would.