S
scikaiju
Guest
A/N: This movie fic is rated R for viloence, language, adult situations
An overcast sky was just now showing the half moon and stars behind it. The moisture still in the air combined with the day’s high temperature made it a muggy experience for anybody outside, although the slight coolness of the wind gave the hope for a more comfortable tomorrow. The tranquility of the night was broken by the sounds of police sirens as an unmarked car pulled up in front of a cemetery. The two individuals that got out briefly glanced at the crowd that was being held back by a few uniformed officers and the police barriers before going in. Following the light given off by the younger one's flashlight and ducking under the yellow police line tape the older of the two commented, "Just when I think I've seen it all in this city." His younger partner just grunted in agreement as they continued on. Wiping the sweat from his shrinking hairline he added, "What kind of God forsaken time are we living in anyway? This **** should have died out long before now. Doesn't anybody have any fucking morals anymore? Robbing a grave for Christ’s sake. How desperate can you get?"
"Tell that to the gawkers by the gate," his younger partner said jerking a thumb behind him. "Or should I call them the ghoul squad?"
"Careful Jay," the older one said."They'll get their panties in a bunch if they heard you." Both of them shared a small chuckle they quickly disappeared when they reached their destination. A couple of uniform police officers and an old man with thick gray hair were standing around a hole in the ground. Absentmindedly rubbing the top of his head the older one stated, "I'm Detective Frank McCormick, this is my partner Detective Jason Mitchell. I assume you're the caretaker for this place."
"Yes sir," he answered, "for the last twenty odd years. As I was telling to officer here I've seen a lot of crazy **** in that time. I've had to run off freaks throwing parties, some ghost hunter wanna bes, bastards doing drugs. Hell I caught two teenagers fucking each other right over there just last month."
"Do you come here nightly Mr. ...?" Jay trailed off as the officer present gave him a look at his notebook, "Smith?"
"Pretty much have too in this city," he answered. "I try to guard the grounds at least two or three a week. But I'll be damned if I've ever seen anything like this before in my life."
"I know this is a long shot," Frank said, "but do you have any idea if anything was taken off the body?" It made sense at least to him. They buried his Grandmother years ago with a gold and silver broach she had all her life.
"Look for yourself," he said gesturing toward the hole. "You gotta see this for yourself." The officer nodded in agreement. Oh this was going to be fun. Frank nudged Jay foreword a bit. When he started to protest he pulled seniority and gave him a lopsided grin before walking away. Cursing to himself Jay edged toward the hole, covering his nose from any smell he imagined to be in there and leaned over. He saw what he expected to see: dirt, a coffin, that box they put the coffin in. Everything but one minor little detail.
"Where's the body?", he looked up and asked. Frank hurried back over and looked in himself. He was a shocked as Jay and he knew what to expect.
"Son of a bitch!" he said stepping back in disgust. "What kind of sick fucks are we dealing with?"
"And you didn't see anything?", Jay asked.
"Like I said to him, I was doing my nightly rounds and found it just like this."
Looking around at all the standing water and fresh footprints in the mud, made by them unfortunately, Jay sighed, "Forensics is going to love working on this one."
"They found evidence in worse muck than this," Frank commented.
He nodded figuring his partner knew what he was talking about. Jay was only promoted to Detective a few months ago. Waving his flashlight at the tombstone he felt that sick feeling in his gut get a little larger. This body was buried almost a couple of years ago according to the date, one he committed to memory at the time as well as the name, Brad Walker. Looking at the untouched grave next to it he wasn't surprised to see the name Nancy Logan with the same date of death. Going back to Walker's grave he said, "Still can't get any peace of mind can you? Even after they put you in the ground"
Realizing what he was thinking Frank told him, "Jay start looking around for anything that we can point toward forensics. These bastards had to have left something behind to link them to this." Jay nodded after a few moments and went looking, but Frank could tell he really wasn't in it. Not that he could blame him. He noticed the caretaker looking at the grave with a particular look on his face. He had been on the force long enough to know that look. "Something on your mind sir?"
"I'm just looking at this hole. Something about it still doesn't look right to me."
Looking confused himself, he glanced at it than back at the caretaker, "What do you mean?"
"Like I said I've been digging graves for twenty years. I've even dug up a few myself when you guys needed a body exhumed for whatever reason. But this looks like no hole I ever seen dug."
"It looks like a hole to me," the officer commented. Frank had to agree.
"Yeah but to me it looks like somebody made their way out instead of in." Both of them just looked at him. "Now I know what you're thinking and I haven't touched a drop of anything in five years. Just giving my professional opinion is all."
"I appreciate that sir," Frank said. "The officer over there will take your official statement, thank you for your time." The caretaker nodded as he headed over to the one he pointed to. Frank and the officer looked at the grave.
"Did ah...," the officer pointed toward Jay, "he know this Walker guy or something?"
"Something," he said, "Kid let me tell you one thing. You ask any officer on the force and more than likely most of them will say there have a case that just sticks in their craw like no other business. And I don't mean a case they couldn't solve no matter how they looked at it either. No I'm talking about a case where you did everything by the book, got all the evidence, crossed all the 'T's and dotted the 'I's and knew with everything they had they had the bastards cold and there was no way they could walk away. And yet they did." Looking back at the tombstone, "This guy is his."
"That's gotta eat at you a bit doesn't it?"
Remembering a couple of cases of his own like that all he could respond with was a, "Kid you got no idea."
***
About that time a few miles away a man was stumbling down the street. The dark suit he was wearing was covered with caked on mud that slowly flaked off as it dried. His dark hair covered in dirt as well as he looked around trying to find something, anything familiar. As he wrapped his arms around himself for warmth he was aware that the only other living thing on the streets with him was a crow that hovered nearby. Every so often it would land on something and wait for him to catch up before taking off again. It was almost as if it was leading him somewhere.
Opening his mouth he tried to call after it, but nothing came out. He tried again and again but still his voice refused to cooperate. The crow came back and landed on top of a street sign just looking at him, waiting. The more he tried the more he realized something else was wrong. Hand shaking he reached up and felt inside his mouth. That shake affecting the rest of his body he realized his tongue was missing. Horror overtook him as he tried to scream but frustrated that he couldn't. A jolt of a memory dropped him to his knees.
<<<>>>
He was on the floor of some apartment and somebody was on top of him holding him down. A woman was screaming in the background. He was screaming for them to stop. A Japanese guy grabbed him by the hair as the weight that was on him lessen a bit. Holding a rough looking knife in one hand and gripping his face with the other he said, "I'm sick of hearing you," then he drove that knife into his mouth. He tasted steel a split second before tasting blood as the blade violated his mouth.
<<<>>>
A few more faces came from the depths of his broken memory. A young looking guy jacking himself off to something. A black guy coming out of the room looking satisfied. An almost angelic looking woman with red hair licking one of those knives seductively. Another white guy in a red jacket going into that room with the screaming woman. His hatred grew with each one as they came to him. Looking at the crow as it flew off he hurried off after it. He didn't know why but now he was positive that bird was trying to help him. Part of his mind questioned it but he ignored it.
They stopped in front of an old thrift store. The handmade "Store closed for good, thanks for the years of business" sign in the window confused him. He knew this place for some reason, he knew it did good business. Walking foreword he put a hand on the brick wall. Another flash hit him, half memory half something else. He saw a young woman, just in her early twenties. Her long brown hair seemed to flow around her shoulders. Her smile and bright blue eyes just drew him in the moment he saw them. Nancy, that was her name Nancy. He came back to his sense as he let go of the wall and realized that woman he heard screaming was her. His anger grew with each passing second.
The crow sat onto of the sign above the door as his hand lightly grazed against the wall as he followed the echo of a memory around the corner to an alley and to the back of the store. The area by the back door was cluttered with various pieces of junk but he didn't see any of it. Instead he saw him and Nancy hanging around the backdoor of the store during the daylight.
<<<>>>
"Brad I have to show you something," Nancy said. Turning back to the door she lifted the handle up before turning it one way then going in the other direction. As the door opened she explained, "That's the only way to get in from back here without somebody on the other side letting you in. Only a couple of us know about it, and we make sure the boss never finds out either. She thinks this thing is locked solid."
"That's cool and all," he said, "but why are you showing me?"
"Julie calls it the significant other privilege," she joked. "Besides how else am I going to get you back here to keep me company on slow nights without you being caught on camera? And if the store gets robbed with no visible way in I know who to point the police toward."
<<<>>>
How long ago was that? Not feeling a whole lot of confidence he grabbed the handle. Doing exactly what Nancy did the door opened. Guess nobody informed the boss about this little defect. A musty smell, dust and some cobwebs told him the store's been closed for a while. His mind going on auto his arms acted on their own as he stripped the suit off of him while he looked around the back room. He found a pair of black jeans that looked like it was his size that he quickly put on. Getting more of the dirt out of his hair he found a pair of black army boots. Putting on a dark blue T-Shirt that was a little loose he found himself looking at picture on the wall. He knew somehow it was a staff photo, a Halloween party from the look of things. Then he remembered, he took that picture, he was there that night…
<<<>>>
He was fidgeting in his chair as Nancy, who was dressed as a clown, painted his face. He had agreed to help out for the Halloween rush. Her boss only had one condition, he had to dress up like everybody else. “This is ridiculous, why did you have to make me a mime?â€
“Because it was the only thing I could think of on this short of notice. Now hold still,†she told him as she painted some black lines on him.
“Yeah but a mime,†he continued, “why not a convict or a bum or something? You say I dress like one any way.â€
“Well I love it,†she told him. “Now one more word of complaint out of you and I’m going to write ‘I love dick’ on your forehead.â€
“You do and you’re ass is mine.â€
“What are you going to do tough guy?â€, she turned around and wiggled it a bit in front of him. He reached out and slapped her ass, “Hey!â€
<<<>>>
She loved it ran through his head over and over as his gaze found an old case of Halloween makeup. Again his hands acted on their own and he searched through the case. Finding some white make up he quickly used his hands to smear it over his face. Going back into the box he found a tube of black makeup. Not seeing an immediate way to apply it he put some on his the tip of his fingers. Putting them just above his eyebrows he traced his face to just below his eyes. Applying some more to his lips his fingers went to the side of his mouth and pushed his fingers out, leaving another line. Heading for the door he saw a black hoodie that was a size too big but he put it on and left unzipped as he exited the store.
Standing in front of it again he finally took a look at himself in the store window. His face looked like a fucked up harlequin mask, but it felt strangely right. "Caw!" He looked up at the crow still sitting on the sign. "Caw!", it squawked again. He nodded in understanding. As it flew off he pulled the hood over his head and followed.
***
Outside of the city sat a mansion in the middle of a sprawling estate. Despite the armed guards patrolling the grounds the owner didn't mind people visiting his estate. He often hosted function for the various religious charities in the city. Inside a dark haired man with blue eyes walked the halls in a tuxedo. On the way to his office he stopped in front of a small shrine and said a quick prayer. Entering the two story room he took a left and jogged up the stairs to the upper floor. There he found a woman with her red hair pulled back in a tight bun sitting on the edge of his desk, her black skirt just this side of being indecent. In a cubby hole a little further back sat an old woman he found in Louisiana years ago. A simple table beside her held a worn set of Tarot cards that she lazily put down and read before flipping over the next one. To the younger woman he said, "I imagine this would be important otherwise you wouldn't have called for me to come back so soon."
"We got a call from the police an hour ago." She glanced back at the old woman, "Mrs. Cleo here thought it would be best." The woman didn't respond to the remark thrown at here.
"Here name is Estelle," he told her with a disapproving look. "I suggest you remember that in the future Angelina. Showing the proper respect is always important. No matter who it is," he shot a veiled look at the old woman himself. Angelina said nothing as she got off the desk and put an extra wiggle in her step as she turned away from him. "So what was in this phone call that was so important?"
"Brad Walker's grave was just violated," she said matter of factily. He almost dropped to the floor at hearing the name. "They thought you should know seeing how you paid for his funeral as well as your sister's."
"Did they touch Nancy's grave?"
"No, just Walker's. Somebody dug him up and ran off with him."
"That is disgusting," he said pouring himself a drink to calm his nerves. "That is such the amoral thing I've been fighting all these years. I think I'm making some head way bringing some of the Lord's light into this world and this happens." Downing the drink in one shot he put the glass down. "Put some feelers out to your contacts. Something tells me this was a particular target. Most grave robbers dig up more than one grave."
"I already put them out," she said. "I told the boys to put a rush job on it."
"They won't find anything," the old woman said from the back, an old accent edging her voice. "They will be looking for something mortal. This wasn't the work of human hands."
"Here she goes again," Angelina moaned.
"I showed you the cards," she continued. "A soul was brought back."
"And that was nothing but a heathen legend." He took the cards from her and went through them, not seeing the card he saw from before. "That was smart of you to plant that fake card in your deck. So how did you pull this off and who did you get to steal the body?"
Estelle looked through him again, "For a man who has studied the other ways you have a very closed mind."
"It is my God given duty to end all of the heathen religions and myths out there,†he told her.†To do that I have to study them, the better I understand them the better I can protect the life the Lord gave us."
Looking over at Angelina she said, "And yet you keep around symbols of temptation, which you cave into regularly."
"Careful witch," he said towering over her. "So far you've been useful to my cause. But your usefulness only gives you so much leeway."
"If you say so," Estelle said as she stood up and slowly walked out of the room.
"Why do you keep her around Kain?", Angelina said as she draped herself over him. "I'm not the only one she creeps the **** out around here. I've seen some of staff go the other way when they see her coming."
"She's useful in understanding the heathen legends out there," he told her. "I wouldn't have gotten this far in my war without her. Make sure the boys understand the urgency of this situation," he said removing her from his person. "We got away with hiding the connection between the boys to Nancy and Walker once. That doesn't mean somebody hasn't found one we missed."
Angelina sat back on the desk, teasing a look as she brought her legs up, "If you're that concerned about this maybe you shouldn't have sent the boys after your own sister."
He looked up behind his desk at an oil painting of Nancy he had commissioned before she met that man. "She became impure. I would not be much of a general if I let sentiment cloud my judgment."
An overcast sky was just now showing the half moon and stars behind it. The moisture still in the air combined with the day’s high temperature made it a muggy experience for anybody outside, although the slight coolness of the wind gave the hope for a more comfortable tomorrow. The tranquility of the night was broken by the sounds of police sirens as an unmarked car pulled up in front of a cemetery. The two individuals that got out briefly glanced at the crowd that was being held back by a few uniformed officers and the police barriers before going in. Following the light given off by the younger one's flashlight and ducking under the yellow police line tape the older of the two commented, "Just when I think I've seen it all in this city." His younger partner just grunted in agreement as they continued on. Wiping the sweat from his shrinking hairline he added, "What kind of God forsaken time are we living in anyway? This **** should have died out long before now. Doesn't anybody have any fucking morals anymore? Robbing a grave for Christ’s sake. How desperate can you get?"
"Tell that to the gawkers by the gate," his younger partner said jerking a thumb behind him. "Or should I call them the ghoul squad?"
"Careful Jay," the older one said."They'll get their panties in a bunch if they heard you." Both of them shared a small chuckle they quickly disappeared when they reached their destination. A couple of uniform police officers and an old man with thick gray hair were standing around a hole in the ground. Absentmindedly rubbing the top of his head the older one stated, "I'm Detective Frank McCormick, this is my partner Detective Jason Mitchell. I assume you're the caretaker for this place."
"Yes sir," he answered, "for the last twenty odd years. As I was telling to officer here I've seen a lot of crazy **** in that time. I've had to run off freaks throwing parties, some ghost hunter wanna bes, bastards doing drugs. Hell I caught two teenagers fucking each other right over there just last month."
"Do you come here nightly Mr. ...?" Jay trailed off as the officer present gave him a look at his notebook, "Smith?"
"Pretty much have too in this city," he answered. "I try to guard the grounds at least two or three a week. But I'll be damned if I've ever seen anything like this before in my life."
"I know this is a long shot," Frank said, "but do you have any idea if anything was taken off the body?" It made sense at least to him. They buried his Grandmother years ago with a gold and silver broach she had all her life.
"Look for yourself," he said gesturing toward the hole. "You gotta see this for yourself." The officer nodded in agreement. Oh this was going to be fun. Frank nudged Jay foreword a bit. When he started to protest he pulled seniority and gave him a lopsided grin before walking away. Cursing to himself Jay edged toward the hole, covering his nose from any smell he imagined to be in there and leaned over. He saw what he expected to see: dirt, a coffin, that box they put the coffin in. Everything but one minor little detail.
"Where's the body?", he looked up and asked. Frank hurried back over and looked in himself. He was a shocked as Jay and he knew what to expect.
"Son of a bitch!" he said stepping back in disgust. "What kind of sick fucks are we dealing with?"
"And you didn't see anything?", Jay asked.
"Like I said to him, I was doing my nightly rounds and found it just like this."
Looking around at all the standing water and fresh footprints in the mud, made by them unfortunately, Jay sighed, "Forensics is going to love working on this one."
"They found evidence in worse muck than this," Frank commented.
He nodded figuring his partner knew what he was talking about. Jay was only promoted to Detective a few months ago. Waving his flashlight at the tombstone he felt that sick feeling in his gut get a little larger. This body was buried almost a couple of years ago according to the date, one he committed to memory at the time as well as the name, Brad Walker. Looking at the untouched grave next to it he wasn't surprised to see the name Nancy Logan with the same date of death. Going back to Walker's grave he said, "Still can't get any peace of mind can you? Even after they put you in the ground"
Realizing what he was thinking Frank told him, "Jay start looking around for anything that we can point toward forensics. These bastards had to have left something behind to link them to this." Jay nodded after a few moments and went looking, but Frank could tell he really wasn't in it. Not that he could blame him. He noticed the caretaker looking at the grave with a particular look on his face. He had been on the force long enough to know that look. "Something on your mind sir?"
"I'm just looking at this hole. Something about it still doesn't look right to me."
Looking confused himself, he glanced at it than back at the caretaker, "What do you mean?"
"Like I said I've been digging graves for twenty years. I've even dug up a few myself when you guys needed a body exhumed for whatever reason. But this looks like no hole I ever seen dug."
"It looks like a hole to me," the officer commented. Frank had to agree.
"Yeah but to me it looks like somebody made their way out instead of in." Both of them just looked at him. "Now I know what you're thinking and I haven't touched a drop of anything in five years. Just giving my professional opinion is all."
"I appreciate that sir," Frank said. "The officer over there will take your official statement, thank you for your time." The caretaker nodded as he headed over to the one he pointed to. Frank and the officer looked at the grave.
"Did ah...," the officer pointed toward Jay, "he know this Walker guy or something?"
"Something," he said, "Kid let me tell you one thing. You ask any officer on the force and more than likely most of them will say there have a case that just sticks in their craw like no other business. And I don't mean a case they couldn't solve no matter how they looked at it either. No I'm talking about a case where you did everything by the book, got all the evidence, crossed all the 'T's and dotted the 'I's and knew with everything they had they had the bastards cold and there was no way they could walk away. And yet they did." Looking back at the tombstone, "This guy is his."
"That's gotta eat at you a bit doesn't it?"
Remembering a couple of cases of his own like that all he could respond with was a, "Kid you got no idea."
***
About that time a few miles away a man was stumbling down the street. The dark suit he was wearing was covered with caked on mud that slowly flaked off as it dried. His dark hair covered in dirt as well as he looked around trying to find something, anything familiar. As he wrapped his arms around himself for warmth he was aware that the only other living thing on the streets with him was a crow that hovered nearby. Every so often it would land on something and wait for him to catch up before taking off again. It was almost as if it was leading him somewhere.
Opening his mouth he tried to call after it, but nothing came out. He tried again and again but still his voice refused to cooperate. The crow came back and landed on top of a street sign just looking at him, waiting. The more he tried the more he realized something else was wrong. Hand shaking he reached up and felt inside his mouth. That shake affecting the rest of his body he realized his tongue was missing. Horror overtook him as he tried to scream but frustrated that he couldn't. A jolt of a memory dropped him to his knees.
<<<>>>
He was on the floor of some apartment and somebody was on top of him holding him down. A woman was screaming in the background. He was screaming for them to stop. A Japanese guy grabbed him by the hair as the weight that was on him lessen a bit. Holding a rough looking knife in one hand and gripping his face with the other he said, "I'm sick of hearing you," then he drove that knife into his mouth. He tasted steel a split second before tasting blood as the blade violated his mouth.
<<<>>>
A few more faces came from the depths of his broken memory. A young looking guy jacking himself off to something. A black guy coming out of the room looking satisfied. An almost angelic looking woman with red hair licking one of those knives seductively. Another white guy in a red jacket going into that room with the screaming woman. His hatred grew with each one as they came to him. Looking at the crow as it flew off he hurried off after it. He didn't know why but now he was positive that bird was trying to help him. Part of his mind questioned it but he ignored it.
They stopped in front of an old thrift store. The handmade "Store closed for good, thanks for the years of business" sign in the window confused him. He knew this place for some reason, he knew it did good business. Walking foreword he put a hand on the brick wall. Another flash hit him, half memory half something else. He saw a young woman, just in her early twenties. Her long brown hair seemed to flow around her shoulders. Her smile and bright blue eyes just drew him in the moment he saw them. Nancy, that was her name Nancy. He came back to his sense as he let go of the wall and realized that woman he heard screaming was her. His anger grew with each passing second.
The crow sat onto of the sign above the door as his hand lightly grazed against the wall as he followed the echo of a memory around the corner to an alley and to the back of the store. The area by the back door was cluttered with various pieces of junk but he didn't see any of it. Instead he saw him and Nancy hanging around the backdoor of the store during the daylight.
<<<>>>
"Brad I have to show you something," Nancy said. Turning back to the door she lifted the handle up before turning it one way then going in the other direction. As the door opened she explained, "That's the only way to get in from back here without somebody on the other side letting you in. Only a couple of us know about it, and we make sure the boss never finds out either. She thinks this thing is locked solid."
"That's cool and all," he said, "but why are you showing me?"
"Julie calls it the significant other privilege," she joked. "Besides how else am I going to get you back here to keep me company on slow nights without you being caught on camera? And if the store gets robbed with no visible way in I know who to point the police toward."
<<<>>>
How long ago was that? Not feeling a whole lot of confidence he grabbed the handle. Doing exactly what Nancy did the door opened. Guess nobody informed the boss about this little defect. A musty smell, dust and some cobwebs told him the store's been closed for a while. His mind going on auto his arms acted on their own as he stripped the suit off of him while he looked around the back room. He found a pair of black jeans that looked like it was his size that he quickly put on. Getting more of the dirt out of his hair he found a pair of black army boots. Putting on a dark blue T-Shirt that was a little loose he found himself looking at picture on the wall. He knew somehow it was a staff photo, a Halloween party from the look of things. Then he remembered, he took that picture, he was there that night…
<<<>>>
He was fidgeting in his chair as Nancy, who was dressed as a clown, painted his face. He had agreed to help out for the Halloween rush. Her boss only had one condition, he had to dress up like everybody else. “This is ridiculous, why did you have to make me a mime?â€
“Because it was the only thing I could think of on this short of notice. Now hold still,†she told him as she painted some black lines on him.
“Yeah but a mime,†he continued, “why not a convict or a bum or something? You say I dress like one any way.â€
“Well I love it,†she told him. “Now one more word of complaint out of you and I’m going to write ‘I love dick’ on your forehead.â€
“You do and you’re ass is mine.â€
“What are you going to do tough guy?â€, she turned around and wiggled it a bit in front of him. He reached out and slapped her ass, “Hey!â€
<<<>>>
She loved it ran through his head over and over as his gaze found an old case of Halloween makeup. Again his hands acted on their own and he searched through the case. Finding some white make up he quickly used his hands to smear it over his face. Going back into the box he found a tube of black makeup. Not seeing an immediate way to apply it he put some on his the tip of his fingers. Putting them just above his eyebrows he traced his face to just below his eyes. Applying some more to his lips his fingers went to the side of his mouth and pushed his fingers out, leaving another line. Heading for the door he saw a black hoodie that was a size too big but he put it on and left unzipped as he exited the store.
Standing in front of it again he finally took a look at himself in the store window. His face looked like a fucked up harlequin mask, but it felt strangely right. "Caw!" He looked up at the crow still sitting on the sign. "Caw!", it squawked again. He nodded in understanding. As it flew off he pulled the hood over his head and followed.
***
Outside of the city sat a mansion in the middle of a sprawling estate. Despite the armed guards patrolling the grounds the owner didn't mind people visiting his estate. He often hosted function for the various religious charities in the city. Inside a dark haired man with blue eyes walked the halls in a tuxedo. On the way to his office he stopped in front of a small shrine and said a quick prayer. Entering the two story room he took a left and jogged up the stairs to the upper floor. There he found a woman with her red hair pulled back in a tight bun sitting on the edge of his desk, her black skirt just this side of being indecent. In a cubby hole a little further back sat an old woman he found in Louisiana years ago. A simple table beside her held a worn set of Tarot cards that she lazily put down and read before flipping over the next one. To the younger woman he said, "I imagine this would be important otherwise you wouldn't have called for me to come back so soon."
"We got a call from the police an hour ago." She glanced back at the old woman, "Mrs. Cleo here thought it would be best." The woman didn't respond to the remark thrown at here.
"Here name is Estelle," he told her with a disapproving look. "I suggest you remember that in the future Angelina. Showing the proper respect is always important. No matter who it is," he shot a veiled look at the old woman himself. Angelina said nothing as she got off the desk and put an extra wiggle in her step as she turned away from him. "So what was in this phone call that was so important?"
"Brad Walker's grave was just violated," she said matter of factily. He almost dropped to the floor at hearing the name. "They thought you should know seeing how you paid for his funeral as well as your sister's."
"Did they touch Nancy's grave?"
"No, just Walker's. Somebody dug him up and ran off with him."
"That is disgusting," he said pouring himself a drink to calm his nerves. "That is such the amoral thing I've been fighting all these years. I think I'm making some head way bringing some of the Lord's light into this world and this happens." Downing the drink in one shot he put the glass down. "Put some feelers out to your contacts. Something tells me this was a particular target. Most grave robbers dig up more than one grave."
"I already put them out," she said. "I told the boys to put a rush job on it."
"They won't find anything," the old woman said from the back, an old accent edging her voice. "They will be looking for something mortal. This wasn't the work of human hands."
"Here she goes again," Angelina moaned.
"I showed you the cards," she continued. "A soul was brought back."
"And that was nothing but a heathen legend." He took the cards from her and went through them, not seeing the card he saw from before. "That was smart of you to plant that fake card in your deck. So how did you pull this off and who did you get to steal the body?"
Estelle looked through him again, "For a man who has studied the other ways you have a very closed mind."
"It is my God given duty to end all of the heathen religions and myths out there,†he told her.†To do that I have to study them, the better I understand them the better I can protect the life the Lord gave us."
Looking over at Angelina she said, "And yet you keep around symbols of temptation, which you cave into regularly."
"Careful witch," he said towering over her. "So far you've been useful to my cause. But your usefulness only gives you so much leeway."
"If you say so," Estelle said as she stood up and slowly walked out of the room.
"Why do you keep her around Kain?", Angelina said as she draped herself over him. "I'm not the only one she creeps the **** out around here. I've seen some of staff go the other way when they see her coming."
"She's useful in understanding the heathen legends out there," he told her. "I wouldn't have gotten this far in my war without her. Make sure the boys understand the urgency of this situation," he said removing her from his person. "We got away with hiding the connection between the boys to Nancy and Walker once. That doesn't mean somebody hasn't found one we missed."
Angelina sat back on the desk, teasing a look as she brought her legs up, "If you're that concerned about this maybe you shouldn't have sent the boys after your own sister."
He looked up behind his desk at an oil painting of Nancy he had commissioned before she met that man. "She became impure. I would not be much of a general if I let sentiment cloud my judgment."
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