Chapter 3: Dark Absentia: Blood Infernal Chapter Two
As mentioned earlier, most of the drive to the township was spent discussing every detail of the case. Over a dozen murders spanning the last year and a half had occurred in the Bronx. The victims had no identification. That's because nothing else was left to test for DNA or fingerprints. Even the bones were ashes. Aside from the metal armor, there was zero evidence of who died. This was one of the reasons the public wasn't informed. There were signs of an apparent struggle. As if the victims were engaged in combat. Medieval-esque weapons were also present. Even some oddly manufactured weapons. Tracing the origins of said weapons had turned up nothing. They were custom-built according to what our experts say.
I pulled on to the next turn. Aside from stopping for a heavy breakfast, the trip could have been more exciting. I noted various calls over the radio of more missing person reports this morning. These cases are ramping up lately. Kyle was scrolling through her tablet, watching YouTube videos while discussing case-related details. I hadn't realized she had an interest in those cases either. Since they were missing person cases, homicide had little involvement. I'm sure the feds were on top of that and no doubt a task force was formed by now. We had our own cases to worry about, which were piling up due to the circumstances we were working on. No task force for us. That was made abundantly clear by the Captain, despite his vehement protest. The GPS confidently gave directions and indicated we were less than five minutes from our destination. The early morning sunlight shines over the damp road. Dew and low-hanging mist fill the country scenery. Enough to distract me from why we were out here in Upstate New York. Kyle yarns, reminding me of her less-than-happy attitude on these early morning calls. 'Who could blame her?' This was the job we both picked for our careers.
A weak column of smoke hung over the approaching trees. The typical yellow crime scene tape surrounds the area around the scene. A church, or at least what used to be a church lies in complete and utter ruin. Right down to the bricks the Church was made of. It was like a scene out of World War 2. A bomb of insane magnitude must have gone off here from the sight. The temperature to melt bricks was well over what a typical house would burn at, but I was not arson except. We had capable fire inspectors for that. I start to scan the area when I feel a hand on my shoulder. Rachael's hand was motioning for my attention.
"When's the last time you talked to your brother, Edward?" The Detective asked.
You can leave it to Kyle to call me Edward. No one other than Lorelei called me that or my older brother.
"I don't know, a few months… why?" I said, continuing my observations.
"Well, your brother, Thomas, and Detective Tate are here," Kyle said, pointing in their general direction.
My eyes follow to meet where she's pointing, there Thomas was. Both he and his partner were at the front of the parking lot of the Church. I pulled the cruiser to a convenient stop before shutting the engine off. The two of us exited the vehicle with a renewal of determination. I hadn't heard of Manhattan having a similar situation. Still, the higher-ups managed to keep the Bronx situation under wraps. It could be the same for them too. Thomas noticed us the moment I slammed the cruiser's door. The almost carbon copy of me wore a similar suit, right down to the crimson red tie. That was the Hunt family for you. Our tall size ran in the family. Beside him was his partner Detective Hannah Tate. I'd teamed up with him a few times unofficially over the years. As we approached each other, I got a good look at his partner for the first time. I knew that Rachael knew her, but this was our first meeting. The blonde hair officer had a similar taste in hairstyles. Sporting a half-French crown braid that both immediately noticed. There was an instant air of something fierce between them. Tate had that same raised eyebrow I'd seen Rachael use on me.
Detective Tate was, in fact, a lovely lady. Having an oval face, high cheekbones, slim eyebrows, a rosy nose, and heart-shaped lips compared with her lime green eyes was angelic. Tate wore a gray blazer with a matching form-fitting pencil skirt. The black pantyhose gave the same effect as Rachael about the type of undergarments she wore, if any at all. Her shiny classic closed-toe stiletto heels rattled over the pavement with Hannah's. As if they were competing for who was more attractive and feminine. The two were of equal size in the chest and rear department. Although, seeing in the nude was the only way to break that tie. This was another fantasy that was unlikely to come true. Rachael cleared her throat just enough that only I could hear her. Her covert warning was meant to stop the awkward googling over my brother's partner. 'Leave it to Kyle to look after a brute like me. Although it could be that Rachael is territorial.' Detective Tate was new, only being his partner for over four months. That much I knew. I recall him mentioning it in the last conversation I had with him.
"What the hell are you doing here, Eddie?" Detective Hunt said, shaking my hand.
"Well, Detective Hunt. My Captain has us out here on a lead," I replied.
"Same here, let me guess. You got a series of ritualistic sacrificial arsons in the Bronx?" Thomas suggested.
"More like homicide by arson in our case. The only thing we got is burnt armor and strange cult writings," Rachael said.
"We got weird writing too. No armor, but victims burned on crosses," Tate revealed. A hint of French was present in her accent. I noted her possible family origins.
"And who says different NYC Departments don't share information," I said.
"This time, there are survivors. From what the deputies tell us," Thomas explained, two women and four children ages ten to fifteen. "Problem is, they aren't talking. They're in shock from what the paramedics have reported," He said, pointing to the series of ambulances.
'That must be every ambulance in the county.' Then, I notice a tall, burly man from beyond the Church. He spotted our little group. The four of us prepared as he walked up with two female deputies. I observed him as he approached. A fifty-something aged heavy-set build man. The cowboy-type hat he wore concealed most of his gray hair except for the clean-cut beard.
"I appreciate city cops coming here to assist with the unusual case. I'm Sheriff Waters. What got here is something beyond tragic. Deputies Young and Gaines here will walk you through the site. As for the survivors, they'll be heading to the station soon. I'll meet you there once you have time to access the scene," the Sheriff said, his voice deep yet comforting. The sign of a seasoned leader.
"Thank you for inviting us out here. We're hoping this could shed some light on our cases," Kyle said.
"Well, I'll let you get to it. Gaines, Young, keep these Detectives in the loop," Sheriff Waters instructed. I could tell the man was disturbed by this event.
The two young deputies confirmed with their boss, and he left the scene.
"Okay, why don't we split up. So I'll take two of you, and Gaines will take the other two," Deputy Young said.
"Sounds like a plan. Lead the way," I said.
The blonde Deputy nods, and we leave Deputy Gaines with my brother and Detective Tate. We walk the perimeter first. Not much is left of the Church. I observe every detail while writing down anything that sticks out. Between Kyle and Young, I decided to compartmentalize. Young was attractive, and since Lorelei left, I've noticed the women like her a lot more. Her long waist-length blonde hair is fashioned in a braided ponytail. The Deputy's stunning green eyes brought out her features even more. A heart-shaped face, thick eyebrows, high cheekbones, a pointy nose, and plum lips are appealing. However, her cumbersome uniform gave away how well-endowed her bosom was. Those tan uniform slacks didn't do her ripe rump any favors, revealing her peachy round derrière. My mind started to wonder what kind of lingerie she wore.
I cursed myself for thinking like that at the scene of a tragedy like this. Things hadn't been right ever since Lorelei left. My hormones were almost raging every time I saw a woman like her. I managed to contain those thoughts around Rachael for the most part, especially after the Bar incident. Kyle had saved me from humiliating myself on more than one occasion after that. Thanks to her, I kicked the drinking habit I picked up from this line of work. She made sure I didn't mistake her for my wife after that, but there were some slip-ups even after that. Not to the extent of the bar incident. In hindsight, those moments did come close. Yet, here was another one of those moments. I force myself to peel my eyes away from the Deputy's peachy bottom to focus on the task. It didn't help much that my time in Afghanistan and Iraq desensitized me for death. That was one of the driving forces behind why I joined the Homicide unit. I'd had one too many brushes with death. One too many encounters with abject evil out there in the fridge desert of the Middle East. It's a wonder my mind can even fixate on the opposite sex. 'Maybe that's the real reason I made things hard with Lorelei. I didn't want her to know what I'd seen or done out there in the darkest nights of the war.'
Luckily, Kyle didn't notice I was taking notes on their figures while doing my job. I quietly peeled off, searching for clues on my own. They didn't seem to notice, and Kyle would be happy to keep the vixen occupied while I did my own thing. There was nothing of note here. That in itself was a clue. The temperature was so high the ground was turned to glass. That was abnormal. 'What type of accelerant could create temperatures that hot. Well over double what it takes to melt bricks.' The soil is primarily organic material. It shouldn't turn to glass at all. Not in those conditions, as far as I knew. The ground was solid lumps of glass. I'm surprised that Kyle could even walk with heels on this stuff. Other areas looked like it was almost molten lava at one point. Almost like it had been cast iron. I took note of the practically cater-like indentation in the ground. Over a few feet deep. 'What on God's Earth could do this? Nothing short of a nuclear blast or the equivalent could do this to the land. If such a thing did happen, it would be all over the news and social media. Yet, not a single mention about this incident has gotten out.' Not everyone in town seemed the least aware of the massacre here. As if something was trying to burn down to something beneath the ground.
"Looks like Gaines is taking your buddies to the cellar where we found the survivors. An escape passage leads into the forest," Young explained, with a tint of a southern accent.
'The church had a basement?' A terrifying notion crossed my mind. 'Was whoever responsible for this trying to reach the basement? If so, by what means and why? If that was even a plausible theory.' These were severe implications that someone smarter than me needed to address. I thought back to the other cases. The temperatures were consistent, yet one glaring problem was the crude armor. What we recovered was highly reminiscent of medieval armor. It was charred severely but not melted. As if it was resistant to the extreme heat. How no one noticed such activity was a lingering question of mine.' Our experts had no explanation for this either.
Kyle starts questioning her while I continue my investigation. I get a piece of their conversation as I study the ground more. Sounds like over forty victims perished in the fire. I note the various oddities around the crime scene as I hear this. More of that crude armor lay in piles around the Church's interior. The only sign that people had actually died other than the statements from the witnesses slash survivors.
"Excuse me, when will the crime scene investigators arrive?" I asked.
"In about an hour, if not sooner," Young said.
Just then, I noticed a car pull up. The hallmarks of the feds were written all over the slick black SUV. 'That didn't take too long.' The lone vehicle parked right behind our cruiser. Then I stiffened as the occupants of the vehicle exited.
"Well, shit," I mumbled under my breath.
Of all the feds to show up, it had to be him. My older brother, Benjamin. He wasn't alone either. Apparently, he, too, had another new partner, probably because of that controversy. I was trying to forget that time. We all were trying to forget. No one came out as a winner in that situation. His new partner looked to be green as they came. More a desk jockey than anything, as it was evidently apparent. The agent was no older than Deputy Young and fresh out of college or the academy, probably both. The black-haired agent was out of place, wearing a bright red blouse and red knee-length skirt. It fits firmly to her hourglass body. My partner and Tate wore appealing attire, but as they say, they knew how to work it. The young agent was, in my opinion, at first glance, of the brainy variety. Her heels were less flashy and didn't match the tan pantyhose she wore. Uncomfortable in her flattering wardrobe. I could tell she was conscientious of her appearance. Trying to blend in with her colleagues by wearing professional yet fashionable clothes. Still, she made you want to know what was hiding underneath those garments. Her hips swayed side to side in a hurried rush. As usual, my brother zeroed in on me, and I took solace in getting a better look at his partner.
The agent had golden brown hair that was pulled a little tight. Those glasses reflect her intellect along with her sky-blue eyes. I study her round face, soft yet high cheekbones, narrow nose, and puffy lips. Her big purse weighed her down, and she seemed aware of her figure. Using folders against her chest to conceal her oversized breasts. I imagine she was well-sized with an apple or peachy tush. It took all her effort not to stumble as she trailed my brother. He stops every so often and allows her to catch up. The agent was clumsy in her mannerisms. Clumsy in a good way, that is. Her innocence was quite erotic in nature. Any man would want to defend her or come to her rescue. She was more interested in knowledge than anything else.
Nothing in his personality at all to accommodate fresh recruits. I knew that much from boot camp. I stand to meet him as he looms in front of me. Almost overprotective of the dainty vixen that came up behind him. Scanning the area for any potential threat to her. This was a definite mismatch of talent. I wasn't sure which of them was being punished at that point. My brother or her. Probably both, to be honest. There is an air of honesty and a just feeling about her. Someone high in the pecking order partnered her with my brother. I can guess the reasons behind it. She was a sweet little honey, as the assholes of both our worlds would say. No doubt, someone tried to extort favors of the sexual kind from her, thinking she was too timid to stand up for herself.
"So, what's your jurisdiction here?" Ben said in a monotone voice.
"One PP has us out here for a lead. By the Sheriff's request," I stated.
"What do you have?" The agent asked.
"Well, how about you introduce your partner first?" I countered.
"Oh, yes, I'm agent Aniston. Diane Aniston, and you are?" Agent Aniston said, looking at me and then at Ben.
"Detective Edward Hunt, New York City Bronx Homicide," I explained. "My partner there is Detective Rachael Kyle, and that's Deputy Young. Deputy Gaines is taking Detective Hunt and Detective Tate to the basement where survivors were found," I explained.
"Oh, are you two related?" Agent Aniston asked.
"You're telling me that Thomas is here too? So what's the Bronx and Manhattan doing out here, to begin with?" Benjamin questioned.
"What's the FBI doing out here, to begin with?" I countered.
Ben sighed, revealing he was about to spill the reasons behind his presence here.
"A couple of months ago, a similar incident occurred in California. As well as Oklahoma and Florida, too. All rural locations like this. The higher-ups sent us out here to investigate. There isn't much information other than," Ben said before I cut him off.
"Homicide by arson and ritualistic sacrificial arsons? Only connected trait is a made-up cultist language?" I said.
"Except the languages are two distinct languages. That's what our analysis came up with. One is based on the Sumerian, and the other is unknown. The thing is, it's older than Sumerian yet closer to Hebrew and Latin," Agent Aniston said with enthusiasm.
"Yeah, what she said," Ben stated.
"Right, what she said. None of that helps in the least bit. I know the temperatures here were well beyond normal," I explained.
Ben kneels down and puts a glove on. He touches the glass-covered ground. Running his hand over it. Same thing I was about to do before he arrived. I kneel opposite him as we study the affected area.
"The ground is freezing cold to the touch," Ben whispered.
"That's impossible; most of the ruins are still smoking. I can feel the residual heat," I said.
"Then my hand and yours should have third-degree burns, and our feet would be burnt too," Ben said.
He was right about that. A fire this recent would still be hot. The report said the fire was still burning when daylight broke. That was just a half hour before we arrived. 'Wait, I thought the county fire department put the fire out? Where are the fire trucks? The fire inspector even? All I've seen was a few deputies and the Sheriff.' I scan the area and spot the coroners. Just then, a county van pulls up. Looks like the crime scene investigators are finally here.
"I want to talk with the coroners. The crime scene investigators might have something for you. I'll let you know if I learn anything," I said.
"Sure, Aniston, check over there with the blonde Deputy. Then find my brother Thomas. You can't miss him," Ben instructed. "And be careful… something doesn't feel right about this," he added.
"Yes, sir!" Agent Aniston blurted.
"Just Special Agent Hunt. I'm your partner, not supervisor," Ben said, sighing.
"Ooh, sorry, sir," Diane stuttered.
"Rookie, huh?" I asked.
"Um, yes," the Agent replied.
"Don't worry, just stay calm," I said, standing.
Something wasn't right, as Ben said. The lack of officials and officers was lacking. No wonder Sheriff Waters brought us in. 'Just what the hell was going on here?' Now that I think about it, Waters seemed concerned about something as he left.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone