Red Hood: The Hunt (3 page)

Victor looked like he was about to shoot lasers from his eyes as the woman offered a hand.  “Detective O'Neil.”

He shook the offered hand and growled out, “Miss Damaschin.”  He stumbled over her name, then he rubbed his hand after they shook like it hurt.

She smiled, I saw the mirth dancing around in her eyes and she countered, “Mari is fine Detective.”  Then she turned those ice blue eyes on me, and I couldn't move.  Her smile widened, and she offered her hand.  “Detective McQueen.”

I gulped and shook her hand, it was like grasping warm iron, warmer than it should have been... almost wolf warm. I could tell that even though firm, she was holding back as if not to hurt me.  I tightened my grip and knocked myself out of drool mode and said with all the poison I could muster, which wasn't much against that half smile of hers, “Red.”

She released my hand and actually laughed at my reply.  It was quick and smoky like her voice, like a bell resonating through the fog.  She inclined her head, her eyes sparkling.  Without breaking eye contact with me, she said in good humor towards the men, with the slightest hint of some rich European accent in her tone, “Detective McQueen here and I are old friends, we go way back.”

Ok God damn it, how the hell was I supposed to keep my mad on if she was going to be all funny like that.  I smirked. “Yeah, all the way back to like, six this morning.”  This got another bark of laughter from her that seemed to flow over the Chief's office, and I just shook my head wondering what I ever did to her to get pulled for such a mindless assignment.

Then I tilted my head and asked in confusion, “Security consultant?  I thought you were a Hunter.”

The smile she gave me held no humor at all. Instead I saw something in her eyes that was a little chilling, I had seen that look before, in every wolf I had ever seen, the look of a predator, a killer as she said in her dulcet tone, “The two aren't mutually exclusive Detective McQueen.”

Chief Mendez growled out, “Now out of my goddamn office the whole lot of you.  You can coordinate among yourselves.”

We all stepped out as Damaschin produced a card from somewhere and handed it to me.  I looked at it.  It was a simple white card with a phone number handwritten in the middle of it.  When I say handwritten, I don't mean someone had scribbled it on the card.  It looked to be exquisite calligraphy, and I say handwritten because of the varying thickness of the stroke and tiny differences in the darkness of each number like someone had used an old-school pen and inkwell.

I arched an eyebrow at her in question and she gave her half smile and inclined her head.  “The number for my service.  They can get word to me when you wish to meet to discuss arrangements for the negotiation.  It will be at in the Slater Mining headquarters in the North Cascades.”

I looked at the card in my hand and creased my brow as I asked, “A service?  Why not just give us your cell number?”

She just said as she walked off, “Technology and I don't always get along.  Good day Detective O'Neil, Detective McQueen.”  I noted she made virtually no sound as she walked across the floor like she was padding along.

Victor and I looked down at the card then heard a fluttering of material like a sheet drying on the clothesline in the wind.  I looked up, and she was gone.  I mean simply nowhere to be seen in the squad room.

Victor harrumphed and rolled his eyes at me.  “Where the hell was your famous McQueen temper?  I was waiting for you to tear the Chief and that Mari gal a new one.”  Then he exhaled and made a dismissive gesture over his shoulder. “There's a pint somewhere with my name on it.  See you on Howler Duty tonight.”

I just waved though his back was to me and said absently, “Yeah yeah,”  I turned the card over and then pocketed it.  I smiled in the direction the woman had disappeared to and shook my head.  Then yawned hugely, I was beyond tired, but I still had to visit the coroner...  to make sure that Prue...

None of the female bodies from the gates matched Prue's tissue type, and like every other day after a full moon, a part of me sighed in relief.  It was well after noon when I headed home.  I stopped for a burger on the way home and felt an itch between my shoulder blades, something indistinct like I got when someone was watching me.

I had been feeling it an awful lot the past few days.  I brought my burger to my mouth as I surreptitiously looked over it to scan the outside through the window I was next to.  As usual, I saw absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.  I thought about the upcoming assignment as I ate.

Alister Slater was a self-made billionaire who controlled over ninety percent of all silver mining in the United States and Canada.  My family has had dealings with them.  I remember before my family was torn away from me that Alister Slater himself had met with my father on many occasions as he tried to get my dad to sell the undeveloped land our family owned over by the Lucky Nugget mines that Slater Mining ran.

My father would always politely decline, stating that the land was an investment in Prue's and my future.  Then after the wolf incident, Prue and I inherited the land but Prue vanished and was presumed dead.  The ownership of the twenty acres reverted solely to me.

Mr. Slater has made overtures to me over the years to obtain it from me, but I couldn't bring myself to sell.  If my father thought it was important enough not to, then who the hell was I to do any different?  I sometimes wonder if I keep it as a reminder of the type of people my parents were.  Holding family above profit.  I paused... I had no family now.

Once I got home, the feeling of being watched left me.  I stepped to the window of my little fourth story apartment.  I was about to pull the drapes to block out the sun so I could get some sleep before Howled Duty tonight, when I caught motion on the rooftops a couple block away, at the warehouse next to the City's perimeter wall.

A figure moved with inhuman speed across the roof, red cloak billowing behind her, making her appear to be a fluttering spirit or wraith.  The Red Hood sprang over thirty feet toward the wall and twelve feet up from the rooftop to land gracefully on the narrow walkway at the top of the wall.  She grabbed the railing and flipped over it to disappear down into the outside world.  I know at this distance it was impossible to see, but I swear she looked directly at me over the distance as she flipped over the railing.

I stood there a moment just staring at where she went over the wall, the impossibility of her movements and the distance she jumped.  Who, no what, was she?  I finished pulling the drapes, then looked at my bedroom and my secure tablet computer on the box next to my couch, the only piece of furniture in my spartan living room.  I was so exhausted I could hardly keep my eyes open, but curiosity was burning inside.

I sighed in resignation and stepped to the couch then laid back with my head on the arm of it and powered up my tablet.  I pulled up a web browser and started an Internet search for 'red hood urban legend'.  Then began to sift through the results. 
The Interwebs iz my friend
.

***

I woke to my cell alarm chiming.  I was sprawled unceremoniously across the couch, one arm hanging over the side, one leg on the ground. My tablet computer smashed up against my cheek like a pillow with a little puddle of drool beaded up on the screen.  I snorted an aborted snore. 
Oh yeah baby, glamour queen... and I wonder why I am single.
  I spit out some of my long black hair from my mouth that had escaped my ponytail.  Apparently I must have been having a Lady and the Tramp dream, and I thought I was eating spaghetti or something.  It was the only explanation.

I pulled my cell out of my pocket and yawned. I stretched out the kinks in my body as I looked at the time.  I exhaled loudly, time to get ready for Howler Duty.  I stood and put the tablet on the box beside the couch to charge.  Then I started shuffling toward my bedroom and the shower, yawning again as I smelled my armpit and scratched my butt. 
Yup, fashion model material here.

Once I was cleaned up and looking human again, I looked at myself in the mirror and psyched myself up to another full moon of violence.  My monthly ritual.  I stared into my dark eyes that reminded me so much of Mom's.  So dark brown they almost looked black.  My short stature belying the toned muscles hiding beneath my clothes.

I have always kept myself in prime shape since I was a kid.  After the wolf incident, I swore to myself that I would make sure I could defend myself and others so that the same thing would never happen to another little girl's family if I were around.  I hit the gym and the mats at the station three times a week.

I bunched my hands into fists, I could hear my knuckles crack and my tendons strain.  I pushed away from the sink with my hands and my eyes. 
You got this Daria!
  I holstered my sidearm in the shoulder holster strapped over my white blouse, and clipped my badge over my hip to my jeans’ waistband.

Then I headed for the station, checking the controls on my FMBs on the outside window.  Everything showed green.  They would slide down into place on the timer or as the sun set whichever came first.  In case of power failure, all FMBs would automatically fail closed, sliding down into place using gravity or when the panic button was depressed.

I hear that FMB production and silver ammo production has dropped way down the past few months, almost to a standstill with the recent silver shortage.  Silver prices have soared into the stratosphere, selling for twelve times the going rate of gold per ounce.  Emergency measures have been called upon in Seattle.  No person is allowed to keep more than an ounce of silver or they would be charged under the new hoarding laws since it was the only defense against werewolves.

I have seen from first-hand experience that normal weapons, while they can hurt and slow down a wolf, can't kill them.  I watched with morbid curiosity as a wolf regrew its face and part of its brain and skull after I had blown it off with a shotgun loaded with traditional buckshot.  Once it started moving again, after I had just stood transfixed for about a half hour, watching, I switched to silver shot and finished the beast off.

I learned something about that in my research into the Red Hood last night.  It may just be bullshit, but it came down to something about purity.  Silver represents purity and light.  It is the antithesis of the evil of the lycanthrope curse, which is pure darkness and evil.  So it is what it represents, not what it is that holds power over the wolves.

I guess it is as good an explanation as any.  Scientists still haven't been able to figure out why the infected react the way they do.  Why silver burns and bubbles their very flesh and blood, killing the dark matter that has grafted to every cell in their bodies...  the curse.  It isn't some sort of chemical reaction, nor any other reaction the scientists can explain.

The predominate theory online is 'magic'.  It is obvious that some sort of dark magic is involved, how else could men, woman, and children be transformed into those evil killing machines when science can't explain it?  There are rumors that there are more magical beings in the world than just the werewolves, they have just remained hidden from man.  It's all horseshit to me.  Boggity talk to scare kids into doing their chores and eating their veggies.  I caught myself questioning that as I looked at the top of the perimeter wall where the Red Hood had disappeared earlier, she seemed to be something... not human?

I'm a much simpler person after seeing what wolves did to Clean Bloods.  Hand me a gun and point me at a wolf.  One day I'll find that one huge wolf, that I swear had intelligence, with human eyes.  I'd recognize those eyes when I saw them, and I would kill him for what he did to my family.  For biting Prue!

I grabbed the card Miss Damaschin had handed me, which I had tossed on my passenger seat, then hit my hands-free on my cell and had it dial the number, storing it in the phone.  A woman with a thick European accent answered with a single terse word,  “Name?”

I blinked, no introduction or greeting, my suspicious detective antennae pinged. I bet the line would be untraceable as well.  I said clearly, “Detective Daria McQueen.  Can...”

I was cut off by the woman. “Miss Damaschin will find you.” Then the line went dead. 
Alrighty then.

I pulled into the station garage and pocketed the card.  In the locker room, Victor was already there with most of the others gearing up in riot gear.  I nodded to him and opened my locker and started gearing up myself.  I said, “I called that Damaschin woman to set up a time to go through the details for the negotiation.”

He nodded. “Mari?”

I shook my head. “I'm not calling her that.  We're on fucking babysitting detail because of her.”  He just grinned like an otter with a ball.  I knew what the smug bastard was thinking. “Fuck you, O'Neil.”  He just chuckled, and we checked each other's gear.  Mine was stiff and uncomfortable with some new pieces since my comfortable, worn in set had been damaged and confiscated.

I glanced up at the time, we had forty minutes before we had to head out to the main gates.  “I'm going to head up to scan through photos and IDs from the other cities.  He nodded and walked with me, his mouth a thin line.  He didn't like my obsession with checking the female casualties after every full moon, hunting for my sister.  He says it is unhealthy, and that if I'd see the department shrink, she'd agree with him.

I paused when we entered the squad room.  The drab surroundings and the bustling of men in black riot gear were punctuated by a single bright spot of color.  The Red Hood stood beside my desk, her head swiveled back over her shoulder toward me when Victor and I entered.

I walked up to her and squinted an eye as I sat at my desk to pull up the casualty reports from around the nation.  I opened my mouth to ask why she was here when she said over my shoulder, “You called?”

I stopped my search and looked back.  Victor was standing beside her looking overly amused about something.  I nodded my head slightly and replied, “Yes I did, I just needed you to contact me so we could set up a time to coordinate.  You didn't need to come to the station, a phone call would have sufficed.”

She shrugged and motioned a hand toward the chair beside my desk.  I nodded and she sat then said with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes and that damn half smile. “As I said earlier, technology and I don't always get along.”

This again punctuated to me that this woman was not normal, there was more to her than met the eyes.  I wish she'd stop smiling like that, I'm trying to be mad at her.  I caught myself smiling back against my own free will then asked quietly, “What... are you?”

She went as still as stone, not breathing, not blinking.  I saw something in her eyes.  Had I hurt her?  I suddenly felt bad but then she shrugged and said softly, “The Red Hood.”  Like it explained everything away.

I realized I was staring at her eyes and turned away with a half smirk. “That explains it.  Thanks for clearing that up for me.”

She chuckled and looked at the screen as it flickered a bit.  She scooted her chair farther away and the screen cleared up as she asked, “Why are you looking at the female lycan deaths?”

I snapped my head back up to her, I saw Victor's eyes go wide, and he discretely went to examine the ceiling tiles a little ways away.  I tried to shoot a death glare at the woman, but I found my mouth speaking before I could stop myself.  “Looking for my sister.  Or rather hoping not to find her.”

Her eyes creased in sympathy at my admission, but her body language told me she already knew.  I'm not sure if I liked that.  But it was really no secret, anyone Googling my name would find out the story, the attack was in all the local news back then.

I shook myself out of my musings then turned away from her purposefully and continued my search.  We discussed when we would coordinate, and agreed two days after the full moon cycle ended would be best.  Giving us time to decompress and get some rest before jumping into this.

When Victor tapped an imaginary watch, we stood and I said, “So we'll see you Wednesday, Red.”

“Mari,” she countered.  I didn't say a word which seemed to amuse her to no end.  Then she turned to Victor. “Detective.”

He inclined his head. “Mari.”

Then she cocked her head. “Do you mind if I tagged along detectives?  I've never seen Howler Duty from this side before. I believe you call it a ride along.”

From this side?
  I blurted my thought before I could stop myself, “This side?”  I'd have to do something about my traitorous mouth latter.

She chuckled like it was self-explanatory. “I'm usually on the other side of the gates, looking for...”  She paused and her demeanor changed from something dangerous to something calm and practiced.  She just repeated, “I'm just usually fighting the wolves on the outside.”

My detective antennae started pinging again.  If she were a suspect in a case, I'd be pushing at the unintentional slip. 
Looking for what?  What was it?
  I remembered her looking into the eyes of the wolf she killed last night like she was looking for something, or someone, in particular.

I was about to refuse her request and say something about civilians, but Victor gave me a shit-eating grin and said to her while looking at me, “We'd be delighted to have you tag along Mari.”  I was going to bury his body so far down they wouldn't find it for centuries.