Page 18 of Darkness

He’d add his observations to Atlanta PD’s input on what they’d learned in talking to the detective and the occisor host. The counselor who’d heard Detective James’s story would provide her own insight. Testimony received while under hypnosis.

Yes, the counselor worked for the same task force as Farren. The FBI and Department of Homeland Security overrode HIPAA Law, especially with national security matters, such as travelers.

Farren’s preliminary report must do until the others emailed their results. The occisor-possessed human somehow wound up at a regular hospital instead of the authorized facility. How the hell could such a mistake happen, allowing a malevolent force to seize another host and escape?

Someone did that on purpose. He’d check with Arianna later to see how badly Leary ripped the ambulance driver a new asshole. Inexcusable.

Farren completed his report and hit "send."

The occisor’s host had been processed, a man reported missing two days ago, who’d lived a few blocks from place he’d been found. The occisor could have possibly been the individual who came through the portal near the alley.

Occisors weren’t capable of opening portals. One might have stumbled into the Terran realm accidentally or possibly been summoned. But why would someone willingly summon the nastiest piece of work available in Farren’s realm?

Too bad summoners didn’t leave residue like a fingerprint behind. He settled into his chair, rubbing his hands over his face.

Morrisey James appeared to have recovered from his ordeal, coming out unscathed except for a headache and lingering confusion.

Nurses and doctors alike commented on a severely lousy attitude. James wasn’t the sunny disposition type based on what Farren learned so far from James’s record. So maybe the bad mood was a personality feature. How had one nurse so eloquently phrased it? Grouch on a half-shell?

Yes, Detective James definitely carried darkness in his soul.

Farren fought the urge to consult a mirror on the damage done to his hair because of finger combing while writing his report. No. The instinct wasn’t him, but a leftover trait from the previous tenant of this body. Farren 2.0—like a few of the younger team members called the current Farren—cared more for function than form, though he’d had to work to obtain the speed and agility needed for his job. Farren 1.0 wouldn’t have made law enforcement his life’s work.

Not when born with a face and body others envied.

A shadow fell over his desk. Farren looked up into close-set green eyes. Special Agent Leary hadn’t shaved, giving his cheeks a copper glow under the harsh office light. The glow matched the cropped hair on top of his head. Lines framed his eyes and mouth, many more than when they’d first met.

Leary didn’t say good morning, getting straight down to business. “The cop remembered the attack.” Was he… angry?

Farren gulped, though he honestly didn’t believe Leary would assault him. The man simply had the air of a predator around him. He’d be dangerous as a traveler. “Yes, sir,” Farren managed.

Leary paced before the desk, hands behind his back. “He fought off an occisor. A motherfucking occisor. You told me they were nightmares best avoided.”

“Yes, sir, they are, and he did.” Farren still couldn’t understand how. He’d be hard-pressed to hold his own if ambushed by such a creature.

Leary turned abruptly, overbalancing and clutching the edge of the desk to avoid falling. Maybe Farren wasn’t alone in needed a few more hours of sleep. “This detective James isn’t one of yours, is he?”

One of yours. Like every traveler came from Farren’s realm. Numerous creatures, numerous realms. Farren only intended to disable the traveler until he could perform an interrogation. Some of his own coworkers fucked up, letting the traveler possess yet another body. Curious how Leary didn't mention that, especially as Leary had been sitting in a car nearby when the ambulance loaded the occisor.

Before he could stop himself, Farren blurted, “Why was the occisor taken to a medical facility for humans?”

Leary answered a bit too quickly. “We thought we might save the host.”

Liar. “But, sir. You’re talking about violating protocol.”

Leary nearly snarled. “Ever think our protocols might be wrong? I made an executive decision.”

Leary, what are you up to? Farren dropped the subject for now but made a private note to find out more about this decision later. “To answer your question, no. Morrisey James is not one of mine. He’s been put into counseling.” A lesser man might have questioned their sanity by now. "Hallucinations brought on by some form of electrical activity is how they’re playing this."

Something must’ve been off in Farren’s voice. Leary searched his eyes with a penetrating stare known to paralyze small prey. Also known as rookies. “You don’t agree?”

Tricky, tricky. Farren possibly opened a door Morrisey James had no desire to enter. The lesser evil might be letting James think he’d lost his mind. Based on everything Farren read about the guy, he wouldn’t be easily swayed. Although he had his problems, he upheld the law.

The occisor mess wasn’t the first hint of dark forces within the agency, only the most blatant. Farren needed someone immovable by his side.

Light and darkness. Two halves of a whole.

Farren stepped out onto thin ice. “Anyone who can hold their own against an occisor might be useful.” He waited, cataloging the fleeting emotions crossing his boss’s face: surprise, worry, doubt, a hint of fear, aversion, calculation. The answer, as with any situation, boiled down to how Leary could benefit. Best not to push or appear too eager.

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