Chapter 30 — Magic Bullshit

Chris led the way out of the room. Lana was basically bouncing on her feet outside. Her eyes darting between us, looking for any clues as to what had transpired. The wind had picked up and her hair billowed freely in it.

“He checks out. So far,” Chris said. “I don’t have enough information to pin him as our murderer, and it does appear he left prior to the events were investigating. My witness said he was only in the front of the gas station for a few minutes which… once you see it… make me feel he’s not our suspect. We’ll see where things go in the future, but for now I’m going to let you, and Cal see the crime scene.” He turned to Lana, “You should still be wary of what stray you pick up. I don’t think you’re dad would approve.”

Before I could say anything Lana did, “You don’t get a say in that.” She said, much more calmly than I would have. “You don’t get to have a say about anything in my life.”

“Lana—”

“Listen to Cal. We’re done talking about this. I know Cal can help, let him.” She gave me an encouraging grin. I was glad a smile could replace her anger over Chris’s stupid words so quickly.

Chris shook his head, but led the way, waving off the other authorities who wouldn’t have let me near the building much less into the actual crime scene had he not permitted it. He paused before the double glass door which led into the gas station and inn front desk. “You don’t have a queasy stomach, do you?”

“No,” I said.

“Good.”

He swung open the door and led the way to a little containment area which sat between the store's next set of double entry way doors which would help keep bugs out in the summer and regulate the air within the building. A box of little ‘booties’ to put on over our shoes, and gloves sat on the floor against the wall on one side. I could smell blood and the nauseating smell of death even here. That meant the room beyond was bad. The view through the second set of interior door was blocked by an adhesive yellow plastic sheet stuck to the panes of glass. It would stop anyone from viewing inside or trying to peek in.

Chris saw me looking at them, “It keeps the news teams from getting photos that shouldn’t be released, and our two friends in town from being able to see anything.”

Once the three of us were ready, Chris gestured to me and opened the door, I stepped through instantly seeing how terrible the crime had been.

Blood spray stained the white ceiling, the red stark against the plaster. It wasn’t a single spray line either but a massive area ten feet in diameter which circled over the cashier’s counter like a pipe above filled with blood had broken and seeped through the roof. I looked down sicked by the sight and saw a trail of smeared blood which led from behind the register and towards the door I had just entered through. I felt my stomach acid roil as I saw dried clumpy blood already stuck to the front of my booties. This had been Phillis. I swallowed, focusing on remaining calm.

The smell of death hung heavy in the room. I looked started to take it all in again slowly, not wanting or able to take in the entirety of the room at once. The tracks on the floor trailed from the store counter towards the door. Each ‘track’ a little less defined the closer it came to the exit door as the blood staining it was absorbed by the short, carpeted floor.

They were wide prints, about eight inches at their largest, and a little longer than a standard foot would be. The pattern was also irregular, two steps on one side, then an occasional mark on the other but not in any consistent pattern. Perhaps the creature had multiple limbs, or some hadn’t been covered in blood? They were large, oval, and the rounded back end or pad made me think of an elephant or rhino, something with broad feet made for a massive creature.

“That’s interesting,” I said, focusing on the tracks. I was no track expert, but I was observant, and this was abnormal.

Lana was standing tall, eyes closed against the sights for a moment as she too gathered herself.

“It gets weirder,” Chris said. “If that is a human foot, initial estimates put them at close to ten and a half feet tall.”

I puzzled over that detail. I’d never run into a hill or forest giant, but they were creatures that could escape from the fae. From what I knew, they might kill people, but they would claim a territory as their own and wouldn’t move around as sporadically as the attacks and disappearances had.

We circled the counter, and I almost lost my breakfast. The body—Phillis— had been removed; but blood and other bodily fluids covered the floor, pooling in the small ‘cubical’ that was the center of the checkout counter. Strange indents lined the countertop, as if an immense weight had pressed the Formica down into the wood beneath it, scarring the surface. I focused on them, focused on anything that drew my eyes from the obviously gruesome death. I saw three of the wooden shelves beneath the countertop were also damaged, the stapler, pens, and miscellaneous items spilled towards the fallen broken sections. Two cabinets walls had broken at strange angles, each from a single strike or pressure if I had to make a guess since the edges didn’t show the multiple strikes of damage that a hammer or maul would leave if I was trying to break the wood with them. It was as if a single unrelenting force had snapped them. I said as much to Chris.

“That is interesting. I hadn’t considered it was a single strike. I’ll make sure our forensic analysts figure out what kind of force that would take.”

I nodded, regretting it as the fresh stirring of air brought the smell of death home again. “Any ideas on the countertop damage?” I muttered, looking up and trying to focus on Chris but my vision passed him, finding more blood, droplets, and the sprays staining nearly every nearby surface. I took a few steps back. Despite my best efforts I had to rush towards the door. I made it to the parking lot before vomiting into the gravel. The rangers outside watched knowingly. Nobody laughed. It wasn’t a laughing matter.

I took a moment to clear my mind, looking up at the forested hills, the sun high overhead. Fresh mountain air which I loved at odds with what I’d just been exposed to. Beautiful scenes to remove those of horror. It felt wrong having such beauty and wonder so close to something horrific. I was sure my watery eyes were bloodshot, and my mouth tasted like acid.

The highway was busy with traffic. Two dozen cars drove by while I gathered myself. They were a mere hundred feet from something horrible, and they would never know it as they went camping, hiking, or perhaps to visit many of the hot springs in the area. The people inside were blissfully unaware of the horrors this world had to offer, what threat lay somewhere in the woods. A threat that could come for them.

My resolve firmed; my breathing slowed. My throat stopped burning. I spit onto the gravel to clear the taste from my mouth. It took a few tries but helped. I went back inside ready to don a new pair of booties. Lana and Chris were talking with another man in the entryway, a new blacked out suburban sat next to the inn, its engine still ticking as it cooled. I hadn’t even noticed it when I rushed outside.

“Cal, this is my partner, Gregory. He was out with some of the local Officers looking for game trails and prints. Gregory this is Cal, he’s a local private investigator who was trying to figure this all out before we arrived. His searching led him to the inn before the event.”

“He was also our most promising lead,” Gregory grumbled to Chris. Clearly pissed I was there. He was black with a gaunt figure and high cheekbones, his slight accent pointed to his coming far from Idaho, perhaps even the East Coast or maybe from the south. I wasn’t good enough at accents to know. “Good to meet you regardless,” he said, reaching out a hand. The words seemed less genuine after hearing what he’d muttered to Chris, but he did sound like he actually meant them.

We shook, in the normal way, unlike what had happened with Chris. Gregory was about my height and radiated a very calm, professional demeanor. I could instantly see him as the type not to let an unknown such as myself on the crime scene under any circumstance. His suit was immaculate, and I pictured his reports, car, and suitcase while traveling would be as well. He probably folded the back of his toothpaste tube and fixed with a clasp to get every last bit and treated the rest of his life the same.

“Nice to meet you. I wish you were the one who had interviewed me rather than Chris.”

“Oh, and why is that?” Gregory said, a little more cordially.

“He strayed from the topic at hand,” I said with a quick glance towards Lana. She froze, Chris stood stoic a predatory smile plastered to his face as if daring me to reveal more. His ultra-white teeth and GQ-styled hair annoyed me, so I did. “Get this Greg, he also forgot to check his recorder. The battery died halfway through the interview.”

Gregory eyed me and then Chris questioningly. Lana was busy giving Chris a glare and she was damn good at it. I figured she’d guessed where the interview had strayed and upon which topic.

After a long moment Lana turned to me, “Are you doing alright?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It was hard in there, knowing the victim.”

“Did anything else stand out to you?” Chris prodded.

“I assume the wounds were bad?”

“Very,” Gregory said, removing a set of photos from his pocket and handing them to me. Of course he’d be the one prepared with evidence to review.

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I leafed through them, trying to focus on the details and not how much pain the sweet woman had likely had to endure. Some of the close ups showed cuts in various patterns, each different and reminiscent of claws, but also wrong. They were generally singular which would be more like a knife rather than a claw and they struck from so many directions the if it had been a knife the attack made no sense.

The last few photos were of a further back more complete view. Phillis’s body had been pulverized, twisted and scarred. It looked like her limbs and her pelvis had been compressed in a vice until they deformed. I winced at how badly her bones must have broken. “What the hell,” I stammered, my eyes unable to leave the images as I flipped through them one by one.

“It’s like whatever it was rang her dry,” Chris said.

“Coroner is still working on their report,” Gregory said. “It will take a few more days. Initial x-rays show nearly half the bones in her body were broken.”

“Have you seen anything else like this before?” Lana asked the agents, then to me in a voice like a haunting whisper. “Or do you know of something that could have?”

I shook my head, feeling my heart rate rise and my face grow hot. Whatever had done this deserved what it had coming, and I was going to dish it out.

I took a deep breath, air catching as the smell of death surprised me again. Gregory offered a mint with a knowing look, and I instantly decided he was the best FBI agent in the force.

“We sent some of the initial findings digitally to our medical examiner and forensic specialist who works frequently with us,” Chris said. “He lives on the east coast, but the closest thing he’s seen to these types of compound fractures and lacerations is when someone gets twisted in rope or a winch line or something similar in an industrial accident. If the force doesn’t amputate the limb entirely, you end up with fractures and lacerations like this.”

“Or an exceptionally strong anaconda,” Gregory said, with a shiver. “I hate snakes,” He confided. “Our contact said it could have been a snake, but that he’d never heard or seen of any that could do something quite this aggressive. It’s further complicated because the force applied to the limbs occurred in different directions, likely at the same time. It’s like an anaconda as strong as a truck decided to break her up, piece by piece, shifting force and direction at will.”

“Tell me it was fast,” I said, blood pounding in my ears as my vision tunneled to the door leading to the crime scene.

“It wasn’t,” Gregory said, furrowing his brow as he gathered up the photographs. “Whatever did this was psychopathic and knew how to keep her alive. Blood tests and analysis of the wounds show it took some time… conclusively.”

Chris eyed me, “It’s also what makes you a poor fit as the perpetrator. Your jeep was empty, or at least didn’t have the machinery needed for this. The police last night checked and reported back that it doesn’t have a winch. These facts make you, our most likely suspect, somewhat incapable of doing a feat like this. The other crime scenes also occasionally had similar wounds which ties this to them. The missing people we are unsure of, but if they are related they are presumed dead.”

“You won’t hear that in the news, not yet,” Gregory said. “Keep a lid on it.”

“But this was much worse,” Lana asked. “Worse than the others.”

The two men nodded.

“Much worse,” Gregory agreed.

I thought hard about this new information. There were probably an innumerable number of creatures from the fae who could do something like this. To take delight in torture and pain was basically the bad fae calling card, but none immediately came to my mind. Granted even the whole of all wizarding knowledge that existed probably couldn’t even start to categorize all the terrors and horrors inside the fae. Shadow creatures leapt to mind as they could and would torture victims and could vanish and appear seemingly at random. But this had happened in the day, as had some of the other attacks. I looked at the strange bloody footprints. A shadow creature wouldn’t leave prints.

A wizard could have managed the murder, the foot prints were off for them too, but the damage could be done with spells.

Though, only a wizard with much more endurance than me. I could theoretically see how binding spells of air could be modified to do something like this. I wasn’t as skilled in air magic and wouldn’t reveal this possible threat to the FBI, even if the Grimm Seekers weren’t involved, but I had to consider it. A wilder steeped in blood or death magic might also be able to do this.

I glanced around, realizing for the first time that the lights were on in the room, the outside light against the yellow film on the doors overpowering them with a more natural glow.

“The power works here,” I asked the agents. “In the gas station, you didn’t have to change the bulbs or anything?”

“No,” Gregory said, eyebrows raised. “Why would the lights be out?”

“Just a question. My room’s power kept failing, and the police mentioned the cameras not working, so I figured everything was out.”

Chris squinted at me, and I regretted my question. If he knew about power failing around those gifted with magic a electrical problems in the shop would point to a different type of suspect. If he assumed I thought a wizard or individual like me could do this it could paint me as a suspect again.

“The camera system experienced intermittent failures the past few days,” Gregory said, rubbing the smooth skin on his chin.

“They weren’t operating when the attack happened,” Chris added. “Those blackouts started about two and a half days previous to the attack.”

That was right when I’d arrived. I cringed at the thought that my very presence may have made it harder to catch whatever had done this.

“The other attacks, were they exactly like this?”

“No,” Chris and Gregory said in unison.

“The cuts and some of the marks are similar,” Gregory said. “But the broken bones, the death by constricting pressure. The blood literally wrung out of the victim, no. That’s new.”

“Any witnesses on the past attacks?”

“Not even one. We’ve got four confirmed dead and another five missing. They were all out alone in the park or in pairs. No witnesses.”

“Hmmm,” I said. “So, what changed? Why attack someone inside. The others seem like attacks of opportunity… this one’s different.”

“I agree,” Chris said.

The instant thought I had was that I had changed things. I was at this location before the attack happened. Could that have influenced the killer? But no. Whatever creature, man or beast, it shouldn’t know about me, much less care.

Yet, I had been here. Later the same night Fae had attacked me, but the pixies couldn’t have done this. But was the attack on my home simply due to opportunity, or had they been watching my home? I’d lived there for years without any issue until now. It made my skin crawl thinking something in the fae that had control over pixies had it out for me. But why? I could theorize all I wanted, but what would be the reason? I couldn’t figure out one.

“You said you had to leave early, that you didn’t sleep well,” Lana said. “Could something… supernatural cause that to happen?”

I thought long and hard on that. My mind had already reflected on it, but I’d pushed that thought away.

A daemon would be more than capable of something like this or so I supposed. Daemon lore was sparse, at least from the bit I’d learned from Clair. Chris and Lana obviously thought it was supernatural in origin and I agreed. I wondered how much Lana really knew? She hadn’t told me she knew about the Grimm Brotherhood. I wondered what Grimm Seekers had taught her father and how much had he shared with her? I again couldn’t help but think about how much of our burgeoning relationship might be based on her wanting information. It made my chest hurt to consider, but… she had leapt into this faster than I would have believed possible. [Copyrigted by Brock Walker Author] Gregory raised his eyebrows, not knowing why the others were waiting for me to give my opinion, but he didn’t know much about me. He was professional, he kept his composure, waiting for an answer. His eyes assessing me with new light.

“Maybe,” I said, feeling more than useless so far. “There are a lot of things that can cause dreams, but I think the crime scene would have been different had it been one of those.” A blood filled room would be the perfect calling card for a daemon, I thought. But I didn’t know for sure. Even the idea that a daemon could have been this close made me shiver. “I could ask Fren, see if he has any ideas.”

“I’m not sure I want you telling anyone else about classified information. Is there anything else you can do?” Chris said, voice growing harsh.

“Fren is trustworthy,” Lana interjected. “He might have an answer.”

Chris gave her a patronizing look, then turned back to me, “Not to be rude, but so far you haven’t been able to contribute anything Cal. It’s time to put up or get out.”

I saw Gregory mouthing the name ‘Fren’ before shaking his head and muttering “Idaho.”

“I know,” I said. “I feel the same. First, is there any forensic evidence on those gouges in the countertop?”

Chris let out a long sigh, I could tell he was getting annoyed, “No. But it would take exceptional force. We think whoever it was brought in heavy equipment to… do what happened, and those were mounting points. It may have taken a few people, or a gang. That might explain why some of the previous victims were killed after a pursuit.”

“A few winch lines could break a person up like that,” Gregory said, “but the problem was whoever did it left no tracks or impressions in the blood on the floor, no fibers, or metal traces, no fingerprints. A contraption which could do this would need mounting points or be exceptionally heavy and our witness outside would have seen a group of people taking in equipment.”

I nodded, mind racing, “There are a few things I can do to get more information. But… they will disturb the crime scene.”

“We can’t have that, not yet,” Chris said, crossing his arms.

“Then, I’ll do the quick, dirty version, and see if we can find any magical residue. That way it won't hurt anything. But we only get one shot at this,” I said, holding up a single finger. “And it may already be too late for my senses without doing the full working. If I try the quick and dirty we can’t go back later and do something more thorough later.”

“What kind of disturbances are you talking about, if you do the full thing?” Chris asked.

“I would need to set up a ritual circle around the clerk’s desk at a minimum.”

“Ritual circle?” Gregory muttered, then he swore under his breath and looked at Chris and Lana who took it all in stride. “Another magical case. Gosh darn it all,” he drawled, turning to face the outside door as if willing the other Officers to enter and end the stupidity of it all.

“I’m a practitioner,” I said for the first time, giving Chris a clear picture of what I could do. “I think something on my side of things did this. They wouldn’t need ‘equipment’ to make it happen, depending on what type of being they are, or power used.”

“So, special inquiries it is,” Gregory muttered to Chris who nodded in turn. “I hate doing the paperwork on those.”

“And you can tell us exactly what it was and how this all occurred if you laid out a full circle?” Chris said.

“Maybe. For something like this, I’d need to lay out a circle to draw in more energy, it might help me see what sort of entity caused the death, perhaps even show you. It would also lock down the residual energies inside while I assess them. That will help them last longer and protect my mind. The enemy was only here for a short time, so it will take a lot of power to see what magical ‘DNA’ was left.”

It was more complex than that but simplifying it for them was for the best. If I could make a circle, I’d have to choose to make it either of salt, blood, or fire. Salt for purity and clarity of past events, blood could connect to the death energy of the moment, or fire because any circle of fire was insanely more powerful than other methods, but it came with its own risks too—foremost being surrounded by flames. Fire consumed and wasn’t entirely secure if the spell went awry. I considered my options before answering. “I’d need to make it of salt.”

Chris and Gregory deliberated for a moment in hushed whispers.

“What are the odds of quick and dirty working?” Gregory asked.

“Odds are good I’d get something, but it may or may not be helpful or enough.”

“Magic Bullshit,” Chris muttered.

“It’s not bullshit,” I said, annoyed. “Time was wasting, and this thing is still out there. I need an answer now.”

“Could you make the circle on saran wrap or tin f—” Lana began to say before Chris spoke.

“—No. Do quick and dirty. I don’t trust you or your magic. Despite what I may have read or seen. You’re still an unknown quantity. One we’re willing to tolerate, but only on a preliminary basis. I’m not going through the headache of explaining why salt contaminated the scene. That could confuse or eliminate any clues that we haven’t pieced into the puzzle yet.”

“Okay,” I said. “Then stand back and shut up. This is going to be much more complicated than you can imagine.”