Chương 23: DVD MURDER

A fluorescent bulb buzzes and flickers in an irritating rhythm. Two hands stretch upward to unscrew the bulb from its ceiling socket in a hushed video store. Perched on a ladder, the clerk sets the old bulb aside on a shelf and reaches for a replacement. He twists it in, yet the annoying blinking persists. Scara's car rolls up. Larch hops out mid-sentence with her, bickering through the open window.

"Hoosiers is not only the best basketball movie ever made, it's the best sports movie. It's got Gene Hackman and Dennis Hopper. I swear to God you'll like it."

"No."

"I'm not watching The Notebook again." She taps the window button, shutting it on him with a grin behind the glass. A seething Larch walks into the store, hunting for The Notebook. But as he scans row after row, passing the now-empty ladder and fresh bulbs, he can't locate it.

"Can somebody help me find The Notebook?" He looks around. No reply. The cash register stands empty.

"Hello? Is anyone working here? Anyone at all?" It appears he's completely alone in the store. Turning back to the shelves, he starts flipping through DVDs when, through the wire frame, he spots two shoes on the floor, toes pointing upward. He lets the DVDs drop. With a shaking hand, he edges left. Creeping around the shelf's corner, he sees the shoes and now a glimpse of legs. Someone lies on the floor beyond the shelf. Chest heaving with ever-shorter breaths, Larch steps forward.

Then another step, and he finally discovers the Clerk dead on the ground. Blood is everywhere. He stumbles back and crashes into the ladder. It topples, wires snapping as a spark leaps from the light fixture. With an electric crackle, all the lights flicker and die, plunging the store into darkness. A noise of movement spins Larch around. A shelf rattles, DVD cases trembling as something big shifts behind it. Whatever it is, it stands between him and the exit.

In the driver's seat, Scara stares into her camera phone, pursing her lips. Then she flips it to watch her own video. Larch crouches behind a shelf, struggling to calm his near-panicked breathing. Slowly, he peers above the DVD stacks when one shelf rocks forward. Like dominoes, they start toppling toward him, DVDs flying through the air. Larch tries to dart away, but a shelf slams onto his back, pinning him to the floor. As he fights to push up, a shadow looms over him.

He freezes as the store turns eerily silent and, something just inches from the back of his head. A clawed hand reaches over the nape of his neck where the marks from when Autzee punctured his skin are still visible. Yellowish and scabbed, they seem infected. Larch shudders as the Alpha's claw tips graze his skin, pulling back and rising as if to strike. Scara raises her camera phone, still recording herself when the store's plate glass window explodes.

Fragments shower the lot as a black shape hurtles past Larch's car. She spins around, camera phone still in hand, her wide eyes staring through the window. The car door clicks open, and Scara steps out shakily.

"Larch..." Scara steps over DVD cases scattered across the floor.

"Larch?" Then she spots a hand jutting from beneath an overturned shelf. Terrified, she moves closer. Slowly reaching out, her fingers trembling... This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Don't." Larch whispered to her. Scara shrieks, spinning to see Larch just standing there, gazing out the broken window. With an electric crackle, the lights flicker back on. Scara looks down at a blood-soaked carpet. Now she starts screaming.

Inside the sheriff's vehicle, Sheriff Valentine is at the wheel while Churro rummages through bags of fast food.

"Did they forget my curly fries?" He voiced the question, yet his gaze wasn't on his son but out the window.

"You're not supposed to eat fries. Especially the curly ones."

"I'm carrying a lethal weapon. If I want the curly fries, I will have the curly fries."

"If you think dropping contractions from your sentences makes your argument more convincing, you're mistaken." Before Valentine can reply, the radio crackles to life.

"Unit One, do you copy?" Dispatch announced. He and Valentine reach for the CB at the same moment, their hands bumping into each other. The sheriff glances at his son.

"Force of habit." Valentine switches on the radio on his end and begins speaking to dispatch.

"Unit One, copy."

"Received a report of a possible 187." Churro looks up while shoving a handful of his father's fries into his mouth. He knows precisely what a 187 means.

"A murder?"

Valentine's vehicle thunders into the parking area, sliding in beside two more Deputy Sheriff cruisers. He glances over at his son.

"Remain in the car." Churro He rushes out to speak with his fellow officers. Churro waits restlessly, observing the store's broken glass, the toppled displays, and... Scara and Larch being escorted out.

"No. Way." Churro whispered to himself, a startled gasp escaping. Valentine pivots from the gathered onlookers toward his deputies.

"Secure the perimeter." Churro shoves through the crowd.

"Scara?" She appears oblivious to him as a female officer guides her and a furious Larch toward the patrol cars.

"I don't require a hospital visit. I'm fine." He yelled, nearly shouting. Spotting the disturbance, Valentine approaches, leaving his deputies to hold back the spectators.

"Why can't I simply head home?"

"Sorry, Larch, but the EMTs say you took a hard knock and we need to rule out a concussion."

"What's unclear about 'I'm fine'? I want to go home."

"I understand..." Valentine attempted to defuse the tension but Larch interrupted, "No, you don't. It's baffling since it's a simple concept for a minimum-wage security guard like you. I just want to go home!" He notices everyone staring, their eyes filled with sympathy. Churro is among them, clearly annoyed by the 'security guard' remark. Until something else captures his attention.

"Hey, is that a corpse?" The crowd surges forward. Valentine shoots a fierce look at his son, who retreats into the shadows. As all attention fixates on the video store, nobody sees Crimson peering over the rooftop edge. He turns and slumps down as Autzee approaches.

"Getting the picture?"

"I see he's taking lives. But the reason eludes me. This isn't typical behavior, right? We don't just prowl at night killing everyone, do we?"

"No. We're predators, but we don't have to be killers, that's what we'll discover."

"Why does he kill." Autzee told him They move toward the roof's opposite side, unaware of a strange pattern etched into the gravel below: a spiral...

Crimson trails Autzee into the shadowy corners of the Tale residence.

"You know, I've got a life too. I don't care what you claim about him turning me into his pet..."

"Part of his pack. You've got under a week before the full moon. You don't kill with him? He kills you."

"Seriously, who came up with these rules? Whatever. I've got homework. I need to be at a parent/teacher conference tomorrow because I'm failing Chemistry."

"It's a ritual to join his pack." Crimson was growing tired of being involved in this, his patience wearing thin and anger rising as he snapped, "You know what else is a rite of passage? Finishing high school. And you don't have to kill anyone to achieve that. Why can't you track him down yourself? Why not just sniff him out when he's human?"

"Because his human scent might be completely different. It has to be you. You share a bond with him, a connection you don't fully grasp. If I can help you master your abilities, you can locate him." Autzee elaborated, now leaning against the banister of his house.

"If I assist in finding him, can you stop him? How am I supposed to help when I haven't got a clue what I'm doing?"

"Not alone. We're stronger together. A pack boosts the power of each member. I'm going to instruct you. Remember what occurred that first night you got shot in the arm? Right after you were hit? And when his car struck you? The same thing, right? What's the common thread?" Crimson shakes his head. Autzee seizes his hand, clenching his fist around Crimson's. Bones crack, making Crimson scream and collapse to his knees.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"It'll mend. And that's what preserves your humanity. Pain." Crimson uncurls his hand, fingers stretching out, the crackle of bones snapping back into alignment.

"Maybe you'll make it after all."