Page 12 of Darkness

Where were those damned ambulances?

Farren cast his mind out, mapping the scene: where the cop had stood, where the occisor was when he fired. No need for measurements. He could clearly see every movement, every footstep. Farren observed two guns nearby, noting their locations, the number of rounds fired, and the number remaining.

The cop’s gun would need returning.

Sirens fast approached. Flashing lights reflected off windows as the ambulance backed down the alley. Radios crackled. Farren stood, directing the ambulance when to stop.

Two travelers hopped out of the vehicle, though their appearance gave nothing of their true nature away to humans. A Nutrix and a Dux. A healer and someone incapable of getting lost. Good. Both appeared to be young men, the Nutrix dark-complected, the Dux fair. Neither would draw much attention. Paramedics. Even after ten years in this realm, Farren sometimes slipped, thinking in terms of his old home. Within this realm, they were paramedics, though those terms didn’t quite encompass the full scope.

“Talk to me,” the Nutrix said in a language unknown to Terrans, grunting as he settled the much larger cop onto a gurney as though he weighed nothing.

“An occisor attacked him.” Farren rose, still holding the cop’s hand, and gestured toward the motionless form. “The human shot him, so the occisor tried to take possession of the human’s body.”

The Nutrix winced and gazed down while raising the gurney. “He must be one tough son of a bitch to withstand an occisor. What happens to the occisor?”

“We’ll transport him to the compound. Try to ascertain what he knows.” Farren shrugged. “Then I’ll banish him.”

“If it tried to force possession, you really don’t have a choice.” The Nutrix joined the Dux to lift the gurney into the back of the ambulance.

The cop struggled, thrashing and clinging to Farren’s hand. “No!”

The Nutrix exchanged a quick glance with Farren, retrieved supplies from the ambulance, and hooked the cop to an IV. He emptied a syringe into the port. The cop relaxed, opening his hand and releasing Farren.

Farren flexed his fingers. Detective Morrisey James had an extraordinary grip.

Two other vehicles waited at the mouth of the alley. One, the ambulance for the fallen occisor, was especially equipped to handle the situation. Farren held up a finger to the Nutrix. “Can you give me a minute? I have to speak with the boss. I’m going with you to the hospital.”

“Sure. The patient doesn’t seem to be in immediate danger. Once he wakes up, we’ll need to determine what he saw and go from there."

Which could become quite messy.

Farren jogged past the second ambulance to a waiting car, motioning for the driver to lower the window. The moment he did, Farren gave a brief report. “Boss, we have an injured host I doubt can survive.”

“Possessed by?”

“Occisor.”

“Fuck. Poor bastard. What do you know so far?”

“The occisor attacked a cop, police detective Morrisey James of Atlanta PD. James is unconscious right now. The occisor couldn’t get in.”

Surprise filled the boss’s voice. “Really? I expect a full report first thing tomorrow. Go on. We take it from here.”

“There are two guns, one belonging to James. He only fired one shot. He’ll want that back.” If he survived. “I’ve got details and will get a report to you tomorrow.”

After a final nod toward the car, Farren jogged toward the ambulance holding the cop. He climbed in and found an out-of-the-way spot near the Nutrix. The Dux closed the door with a decisive thunk before assuming his position behind the wheel.

Detective James lay still. So still. Farren had never known someone to throw off an occisor attack. Had the battle done permanent damage?

The ambulance pulled out of the alley, lights flashing and siren wailing.

The Nutrix busied himself seeing to the cop’s comfort. “I’m giving him a human remedy for pain to ease as much discomfort as possible without raising too much suspicion. Even so, I’m betting he’ll have a mother of a headache. You said he won a fight with an occisor. Or did you get there in time?”

“He was winning.” Barely, but still.

The Nutrix’s mouth dropped open. “How?”

“Look at his aura.”

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