Page 65 of Darkness

"Hmmm..." Farren removed a hand from the wheel to rub his chin. “Right now, we don’t have enough personnel, but I’ll discuss your suggestion with Leary. He might know of policies already in place to make the travelers easier to manage.”

Travelers. What an interesting term. “Say I was one of your kind who found himself here. What would I do?”

“That depends on how you arrived and what you intended. We help those who merely wish to live a law-abiding life. But it’s hard to know who they are when they inhabit other bodies.”

So far, Farren had been forthcoming with answers. The next question could change the comradery. “I have a personal question.” Morrisey started to add if you don’t mind me asking, but mincing words went against his character.

Farren's chuckle definitely carried a touch of uncertainty. “I’ve grown a thick skin. Trust me. You can’t ask me anything fifty others haven’t asked before.”

"Usually, when I see a traveler, if I look closely enough, I can see another form blurred with the human, even if only briefly. And you know about what I saw the night of the attack. I can’t with you. Why?”

Tires squealed as Farren slammed on brakes. “What?”

“It’s kind of a hazy image, some suggestive of sharp teeth and horns, like myths say demons have. And you know what I saw with Arianna. Paramedics and nurses have a blue tint. I thought it was their skin at first, but it’s more like a mist around them.” What did those psychic shows on TV call it? “An aura, maybe? Why don’t I see one when I look at you?”

Farren stared, slack-jawed. A car horn behind them prompted him to drive again. “First off, kudos for asking me something I haven’t heard before.” He chanced another glance at Morrisey. “Exactly how long have you been able to do this? From what we read on your report from the attack and what you sensed of your attacker, I wondered if you always could see the non-human.”

“Since the first night in the alley, when that… thing grabbed me.” Morrisey slapped a hand over his face. Open mouth, insert foot. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t apologize if you’re trying to. You’re right. It was a thing, or rather, down the lifeform hierarchy in my world. Think of Magestras as humans who possess certain aptitudes. That must be why you see me as an equal, not alien. Travelers can’t sense me, but I always felt that was because of my nature of enforcing laws. Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“I didn’t think it was important. For all I knew, anyone can do it.”

“The attack seemed to awaken latent skills for you. Interesting. Very interesting. And possibly useful. But you are trying to interpret information your brain isn't equipped to handle. Which helps explain why past humans who could see us called us demons or angels. We’re really more energy and light.” Farren pulled the SUV into a parking lot already filled with police cars and two ambulances. “Do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Once we see inside, do a perimeter sweep for any travelers. You seem uniquely qualified.”

***

The brick and siding building wasn’t nice or new, comprising two floors and doors facing each other across a breezeway. Morrisey hated apartments built like this. So many places for someone to hide in the shadows at night.

The chest-high boxwoods might as well already sport crime scene tape. They seemed made for muggers.

Three police cars were in the parking area.

The smell of blood hung heavy in the air even before Morrisey climbed to the second-floor apartment. A uniformed cop hanging crime scene tape appeared a bit green. Not good. Not good at all.

Morrisey recalled the cop throwing up over the railing on his last case with Will. Please, Lord, let this crime scene not be as bad as the birthday party massacre.

Farren silently grabbed two pairs of gloves and footies from the cop watching the open door. Morrisey peered around him.

Blood soaked the dirty brown carpet. Spatter covered the walls like some weird modern art, dark red against white walls, abstract art for the criminal mind.

Morrisey inhaled through his mouth to calm his roiling stomach. He’d not been sick at a crime scene in years and wasn’t about to start now. He ignored the sneering cop at the door while shuffling into the apartment.

Yeah. Nothing like having to wait on the FBI to piss a cop off. Morrisey had been there.

Blood left a trail down a short hallway and into a back bedroom. A body, or the remains of one, lay on the bed, too badly mangled to tell gender at first glance.

This had been a living person. No. Morrisey couldn’t try imagining them alive, laughing, smiling. If he did, he might end up retching outside. He couldn’t help this person now. The best he could do was seek justice—and prevent this from happening to anyone else.

Memories of Craig threatened to return.

Forensic folks hovered outside the door, awaiting their chance to enter.

“A traveler was here.” Chatting among the cops drowned Farren’s words to all but Morrisey’s ears. “Can you smell herbs?”

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