Continued from:
The Arc
The Arc: 2
The Arc: 3
The Arc: 4

---

“I don’t know how long I’ll be. I will be sure to call the house when I’m ready for a ride.”
“Are you sure? I could just call Nathaniel or Zane and have them pick me up. You can have the Jeep.” Micah held out the ring of keys in his hand, palm up, towards me.
I shook my head. “No. Go ahead. I need an excuse to stick around if Dolph goes ape-shit.”
“Is he still that angry?”
I raised my eyebrows. “He’s always been this angry, Micah. He just couldn’t hold it in any longer. He had to let me know how angry he was with the monsters.” I shrugged. “But I have to go. I’ll call. I promise.” I started to turn away from his rolled-down window when I realized I didn’t kiss him goodbye. He seemed to read my mind because when I turned back to him, his head was half hanging out the window, like a dog. Or in his case, a really big cat. I pressed my lips to his; hard, quick, and chaste. The ardeur hadn’t popped up since its show last night and I didn’t need to be found by Dolph screwing Micah in the back seat of my Jeep because a kiss lasted too long. Things, usually sexual things, tended to happen between Micah and I. It wasn’t always sexual. But mostly, it was, just like with Jean-Claude.
As I walked towards the yellow Do Not Cross police tape, my federal marshal badge around my neck, I reached down that long, metaphysical cord that tied me to Jean-Claude and found him still dead. He’d be dead for quite a while still, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to check on him. Last time I did, his le sour de sang, fountainhead of blood, head of his lineage, Belle Morte, had tried feeding off of him while he was still “asleep” through her first in command, Musette.
I flashed my badge at the uniform guarding the tape. It took him a moment to process the fact that I was a woman. And that I was now a Federal Marshal. Didn’t matter how I came to be a marshal just that I was.
The moment I stepped through the front door of the house, my senses went completely wonky. Something had happened here. Something serious, and whoever did it either doesn’t know how to cover up their trails, or didn’t want to.
“Anita.”
“Dolph.”
I’d seen Dolph come towards me through the kitchen, but I hadn’t registered it simply because I was too busy trying to regain control of myself. Looking at him, really looking at him, you could tell he’d been through something. And that something had drained him. Yet, he still managed to put on those cold eyes for me. I can’t help but wonder when he’ll be happy to see me again, crime scene or not, like old times. I missed those old times.
Sergeant Rudolph Storr was six feet, eight inches tall and built like a high school wrestler. He was big, he was bulky. He was a good cop. He used to be like a father figure to me. Used to be.
“What have you got for me?” I asked tentatively. “You said on the phone there didn’t seem to be much left. It’s not like that rogue werewolf we had, is it?” God, I hoped it wasn’t another one.
“What’s the matter, Blake, don’t think you’d be able to take it again?” he bit at me.
“Only if you don’t push me around in it,” I replied with the same heat in my eyes that I saw in his.
One of the last crime scene’s I’d been on with Dolph, he let his personal shit get in the way. He had a beef with me and took it out in public. He’d pushed me into the crime scene, soaked my hose through with blood from just the bed. When I tried to pull away, I’d fallen and slipped in the stuff. You don’t know fear or disgust until you’ve fallen and rolled around in a fresh, warm crime scene. I did not want a repeat.
“This way,” he said through slightly clenched teeth. He’d get over it. Eventually.
Dolph led me to the back of the house and into a bed room. Why did murders always happen in the bedroom or living room? There was something terribly cliché about it all. But the moment the doorway came into view, I smelled it. Meat. So much meat. The fact that I was two yards down the long hallway from the bedroom and I could smell it that strongly should tell you something. Anything that can reduce a human to so much meat is never a fun thing to play with.
I entered the room and it looked like someone had redecorated. I just hoped the far wall had been red before. If not, there was just too much blood.
In the middle of the floor, on the beige carpet, there was a circle. A blood circle, similar to those I used in raisings. They seal the power in or out. The leftovers of what ever had happened danced along my skin, causing gooseflesh everywhere visible.
“What is it? You’ve got the creeps,” Dolph asked from behind me.
“Something went down here. Something big. Did the neighbors hear anything?” I held my hand out behind me for a pair of gloves. They were slipped into my hand without a word.
“No. The housekeeper came by for her weekly cleaning and found this. No body, no trail. Just blood and guts and gore. What do you think happened?”
“Honestly, I have no clue. The only thing I recognize, aside from blood, is the circle. It’s like they tried to raise someone, or something. Tried to raise it in the house, and it made a mess. They probably took the body to use later. Maybe food for something.”
If Dolph was about to say something, he never got to it. My cell phone rang in my back pocket before he could open his mouth. I pulled it out and looked at the number. The Arc. What was Hellboy doing calling me?
“Blake.”
“We have a call from a Ms. Sherman. Will you accept this call?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“Who is it?” Dolph asked.
“None of your damn business.”
“Excuse me?” Liz’s voice came through my phone.
“No, not you Ms. Sherman,” I assured. “Just a minute.” I held the phone to my shoulder and looked at Dolph. “I have to take this call. I’ll only be a minute, I promise.”
“If I had a call, you’d tell me that every minute I waste is another minute the killer has to escape. So I’m telling you.”
“This is serious, Dolph. I don’t have time to stand around and listen to you mock me. I’ll only be a minute. I don’t know how much more I can get out of this place anyways. There’s nothing here but a lot of power trail and a blood circle. Give me a minute on the phone with this woman and I’ll see if I can get anything else, alright?” I stared at him, hips cocked and eyebrow raised, testing him to see what he’d say.
“Fine. Two minutes, then we’re clearing out and I’ll have to go on without you.”
“You can’t keep going without me. Don’t be such a martyr.” Then I left the room, bringing the phone back to my ear. “I’m sorry, I’m in the middle of a rather bloody and confusing crime scene, do you mind hurrying?”
“Sorry. I didn’t know. Look, we’ve got a hit on something. I don’t know if it’s what you’re looking for, but it’s some kind of magic. You seem to know the magic around here. We just have an inkling on who it might be.”
Now she had my attention. “Mind sharing?”
“Some old… friends of ours. Nazi occultists basically. Chased after Red a few years ago. I guess we didn’t get them good enough. Just check the scene carefully, for any small clues. This might sound weird, but check the carpet for sand, the floor for some fallen small gears. Don’t ask unless you find them. I’ve got to go. We’re going shopping for your boyfriend, I guess.” She hung up. Wow. She was a nice gal.
I closed my phone and was back to the bedroom. Returning to where I was standing, I knelt. I tried to run my hands over and through the carpet, but knew it would be useless with the gloves.
“How often did you say the housekeeper came?”
“Once a week, why?”
“Were these people clean when she wasn’t around?”
“She said the husband had a case of OCD, so I’d imagine so. Talk to me, Anita.”
I looked up at him from the floor and smiled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something glint in the mid-afternoon sun in the blood circle. Crawling on hands and one knee, I grabbed it between my fingers and held it to the light, inspecting it.
“Don’t suppose anyone with OCD would have such a sharp piece of a metal gear in their carpet, do you?” I asked, holding the gear half in my upturned palm towards Dolph.
“But what does it have to do with anything? Could have been a broken watch.” He shrugged his wide shoulders, but the skepticism was there in his eyes. “Right?”
What I wanted to say was, “If the tip I just got was right, then no.” But what I really said was something a little more on the illegal side, withholding evidence from the authorities and all that. “I highly doubt that. We’ve got something a little different I think, but that’s as far as my ideas stretch. This doesn’t look like any clock gear I’ve ever seen. I’ll have to ask around some.”
“You’re not telling me something,” he said as he raised an eyebrow.
Shit.
Lying to Dolph was easier than lying to a vampire that could tell if you were lying or not, but only by a little. “I’m not withholding any information from you. You know me better than that.”
“No, actually, I don’t.”
Shit again. He was right. Every now and again, when it applied to the situation, I’d withheld something from Dolph, Zerbrowski or some other cop. But now, the situation applied for it, and I didn’t have the time sit around and discuss everything from start to finish with Dolph. It would take more time than I had in a week. I did the only thing I could think of and shrugged.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know anything other than what I’ve told you. All I can do is ask around. Am I done here?” I stood up and smoothed my shirt, peeling the gloves off.
“Yes, Ms. Blake. Your services are no longer needed at this time.” So robotic, so mechanical. I didn’t want to believe it was Dolph speaking to me, but the words came from his mouth. I didn’t think that I was the only thing that had pissed him off lately.
“Fine, Sergeant Storr,” I stressed, “I’ll be leaving then. You have my number.”
As I walked down the hall and out the door, I took my phone out and dialed the house from memory. When Micah answered, and I told him I was finished, he said to give him five minutes and he would be there.
When I slapped the phone shut and put it back in my pocket was the time it registered that I hadn’t seen Zerbrowski here. I started to feel that familiar tingle of worry, then chased it away. If Zerbrowski was in trouble, Katie, his wife, would have called me, if not Dolph.

---

The Arc: 6