The Calling (2 page)

Just like Rayna. Just like all the victims.

The sound of footsteps caught his attention and he turned his head, watching his partner, Chad, approach him.

"Is she gone?"

"Yes. Less than three minutes," Garrett said, looking back down at the body. "Reynolds still tailing her?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Tell him not to let her leave his sight until I tell him otherwise."

"And how long will that be?"

"Until we catch whoever is doing this," he said, nodding his head toward the body.

"You know if the Chief finds out you're having her followed he'll have all our asses in a sling."

"Then I suggest you cover your tracks so he doesn't find out. She's in danger whether anyone wants to believe it or not."

"Is that the only reason you have her on twenty-four hour surveillance?"

Garrett looked up and frowned. Chad's faced was alight with laughter and a twinkle of amusement shined in his eyes. "I broke it off with Rayna for a reason, Chad."

"A reason you've yet to explain."

"I don't have to explain my actions to anyone."

"No, you don't, but any fool can see you're in love with her, which begs the question, why in the hell did you break up with her."

Garrett scowled and turned, walking away from the victim and from the truth Chad had so eloquently stated. Eight months of lying to every person he knew and not a one of them believed him. No matter how many times he denied it, his friends saw through his carefully constructed lies. Did Rayna? Did she know the very sight of her caused his chest to ache and his body to respond as if she'd touched him? That her scent stayed with him for days and he lost sleep as he watched her silent, dark apartment just to make sure she was safe?

No. She couldn't know. He purposely treated her like dirt anytime he saw her. Why would she know he was in love with her? How could she know that leaving her tore his soul into a thousand pieces and caused the wolf residing within his flesh to try and claw its way free to claim her as his own.

Chapter 1

"How do werewolves sound for our next big story?"

Rayna turned her head at the sound of Mitch's voice. Her newsroom partner for the last two years apparently had the nose of a bloodhound. The fact he'd found her tonight proved it. As usual, his suit was crisply starched and his light brown hair was arranged perfectly. Of course, a few unruly wisps curled around his ears and made him look years younger than he actually was but it didn't detract from his appeal. He was nice looking, in that boy next door kind of way. He slid onto the stool next to her and she raised an eyebrow at him. "Werewolves? I'm not writing for the trash mags, Mitch."

He laughed. "Neither am I. I'm serious."

"Oh, of course you are," she said, waving her hand to dismiss his comment. "Werewolves are all the craze nowadays." She smiled when the bartender slid her drink in front of her and she took a sip while Mitch ordered one of his own. "So, how did you find me?" she asked.

"It wasn't that hard." He stood when the bartender handed him his drink. He nodded at an empty table with his head before crossing the bar. Rayna followed him, pausing to let a group of giggling girls pass before sliding into the booth. "I had Daniels follow you when you left the office."

Rayna grinned and turned her head, scanning the crowded bar. "I didn't see him."

"He ducked out after calling me."

"Figures," she said, taking a sip of her rum and coke. "So, what was so important that you had to track me down for it?"

"Your friend Malcolm St. John sent you a package."

Rayna groaned. "Great. And here I thought my shitty day couldn't get any worse." Mitch pulled a yellow envelope out of his jacket pocket and she rolled her eyes before holding out her hand.

When he handed it to her, she saw her name scrawled across the front in elegant script and, in the top left hand corner, the name Malcolm St. John. Just the sight of his name left a bad taste in her mouth. Seven months of his harassing phone calls, a new telephone number and a restraining order later and he still insisted upon finding ways to contact her to tell his story. A story he'd yet to divulge. All she ever got from him was, "Come visit us and I'll make you famous."

Sighing, she shook her head and look down at the package. "I'm almost scared to look," she said. "This man is starting to be a serious pain in my ass." Knowing Mitch wouldn't leave until he'd seen what Malcolm's latest scheme was, she flipped the envelope over.

The tape was already ripped off. She raised her eyes and stared at Mitch.

"What?" he said, grinning. "I only had a peek."

"At my personal mail!"

He snorted a laugh and nodded his head to the envelope. "Maybe, but that's not important at the moment. Malcolm's bizarre behavior just got interesting. Take a look."

Rayna emptied the envelope, laying the contents on the table. There wasn't much in it. A single sheet of paper and three photographs. Her eyes widened when she got a look at one of the photos. "Well, the man has a sense of humor at least," she said, reaching for one. "That's reassuring."

The first photo showed a man in some sort of spasm. He was on the ground, his body contorted in pain. He was naked, his back to the camera, and Rayna could barely make out the rigid protrusions along his spine. Bony shards stuck out from under his skin. He looked ghastly white, one arm outstretched as if asking for help.

The next showed the same man only this time, his body was covered in a thin layer of dark hair. The side of his face was visible. The forehead looked wider, his nose and mouth elongated and protruding from his face. His teeth were bared, sharp and gleaming in the moonlight. A shiny substance covering his skin seemed to glow in the filtered light.

The last photo showed the man on all fours, his neck outstretched and pointing to the sky. His mouth was open. The sharp teeth bared and something dripped from lips that no longer looked human. His eyes glowed brilliant yellow-orange, the hair along his body had thickened, the torso broader. His body still looked somewhat human but Rayna could tell something was happening to him. It looked like a shape-shift from any good horror movie she'd ever seen.

Why the photos were sent to her, she had no clue.

"What is Malcolm up to?" she asked. "A handful of fake pictures isn't going to lure me to him any quicker than his other attempts."

"Why do you automatically assume it's fake?" Mitch asked, reaching for the photos.

She laughed. "Uh, probably because werewolves don't exist, boy genius."

He threw her a look and sifted through the photos, examining each one carefully. She watched him for a few seconds before remembering the note that had accompanied the pictures and reached for it.

Dear Ms. Ford,

I've spent the last seven months trying to bring my community to your attention with no luck. I felt a little glimpse into what we have to offer was in order. I hope the photos will at least peek your interest enough to warrant a few minutes of your time. We are in desperate need of your help. Please reconsider my offer to visit us and let our story be known. I'll leave the communication between us up to you as you've asked me not to call. My number is on the back of the first photo.

Kindest regards,

Malcolm St. John

"Well, what does it say?"

"What? You didn't read it?"

He blushed and grinned at her. "No. Once I saw the photos the note didn't even dawn on me. So, what does he want?"

"The same as always. The photos were just to peek my interest," she said, reaching for the pictures. "I'm not sure how this is relative to what he wants though."

"Well, he wanted your attention, Ford," Mitch said. "And I do believe he has it."

His laughter caused Rayna to roll her eyes. "I'm not that hard to impress, Mitch."

"Not in general, you're not," he said. "But when it's a story, you won't take anything but the best."

"You make that sound like a bad thing," she said, grinning. "We haven't won all those awards by taking on every piss-ass story that came along. Being selective is what's gotten me-us, where we are."

"True, but we haven't produced anything other than the serial killer in months."

"Oh, ye of little faith."

"Come on, Ford," Mitch said. "What's it going to hurt? The worst that can happen is we'll get a nice little vacation away from the city."

Rayna sighed. He was like this every time she heard from Malcolm.

"It's the perfect set-up," Mitch said. "We get paid downtime. Malcolm has practically begged you to tell his story."

"I don't care. I'm not doing it. Malcolm is crazy. Anyone who would stalk a reporter, just to have his name in the paper, can't be right in the head." Mitch's ears turned red then and Rayna narrowed her eyes at him. He wasn't telling her something. "What did you do, Mitch?"

"What makes you think I've done something?"

"Because your ears are red. You're lying to me about something. What is it?"

"My ears are red?" He lifted his hand, feeling his ear before looking at her.

"I can see it in your eyes, too. What did you do?"

He sighed and looked toward the bar. When she kicked him under the table, he yelled, "Ouch," before he turned his attention back to her. "Fine," he said. "I might have showed the pictures to a few people."

"What?" she said, panicked. "To who?"

He ducked his head and mumbled, "Clive."

Rayna's eyes widened. "Mitch!"

"I'm sorry," he said, looking up. "When I saw the envelope, I opened it. Clive walked by and saw the photos."

"This can't be happening." Rayna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Please don't tell me what I think you're going to." She opened her eyes when he didn't answer her and his cheeks reddened. "Damn it, Mitch! He wants me to go, doesn't he?"

"Yes. He said to tell you to take the case or else."

"Or else?" She had a very bad feeling all of a sudden. The look on Mitch's face only made it worse. "Or else what?"

He sighed and leaned across the table. "Come on, Ford, don't be so pissed. We haven't had anything worth reporting other than the Night Stalker in months. Harper's sorry excuse for a newspaper is selling faster than they can print them. Clive wants something to sell our paper."

Rayna laughed but there was nothing humorous about the situation. "Harper sells stories about alien's and demon spawned babies! That's not real news."

"I know, but Clive said if that's what it took to get people to buy our paper, he'd print it."

Her head began to throb, a dull ache pounding between her eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

She shook her head. "Tell me that when we're surrounded by lunatics who think they can turn into werewolves."

He laughed. "Come on, Ford. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"This has nothing to do with adventure."

"Sure it does. You can't get more adventurous than werewolves."

"Werewolves don't exist, Mitch," she said, glaring at him.

"How do you know?"

She snorted a laugh. "Have you ever seen any roaming the streets?"

"No," he said. "And you won't either. If you were a supernatural creature of myth, one who people would fear if they knew you existed, would you really go around shouting to the world that you were one of the monsters."

"Mitch, there aren't any monsters in the world. It's make-believe crap they use to sell movies and books."

"Yes, but most of that
crap
is based on legend."

"It doesn't make it true."

"Maybe not, but this is still a great story."

"How so?"

"An entire town that thinks they're werewolves?" He laughed and tossed the picture down in front of her. "Think about it."

She did. She thought about her career going up in flames. She thought about being the laughing stock of the entire newsroom. She thought about hanging Mitch up by his toes and feeding him to rats. Very large rats.

"Look, I'm not asking you to believe, Malcolm," he said. "Just don't discount his claim because you
don't
believe him."

She was screwed. She could feel it like something sour in the bottom of her stomach. Her boss, Clive, would give her no choice in this. Pleading with him like she'd done in the past would be useless. Her instincts were dead on most of the time and something told her he wouldn't budge on this. She had no choice anymore. Crazy or not, Malcolm had sealed her fate with those damn pictures. "When does he want us to leave?" she asked.

"As soon as we can."

"Figures."

Mitch picked up the pictures again and looked through them before tossing them back in front of her. "Look, I have to go. Don't be pissed."

"Oh, I'm more than pissed," she said. "And you're going to pay for this dearly."

He laughed and stood up. "It's a date then, Ford. Just don't wait too long for my punishment."

She glanced up at him. "You're not going to enjoy it, Mitch."

"Sure I will," he said, grinning. "I get to go to work tomorrow and tell the entire office we're going away together. No punishment under the sun can diminish my delight in that."

His laughter rang out over the noise of the nearby tables and a few people turned their heads to look. She watched him walk away before leaning back in her seat and staring down at Malcolm's letter again. "Malcolm, you clever old bastard, what the hell are you up to?"

She reached for the photos, examining each one in turn. They were taken in the woods from what she could tell. The man was sitting in a large dirt circle and trees surrounded him. She could see a few people in the background; eager looks on their faces.

Although she knew the pictures were a fake, she had to admit they looked pretty damn real.
Movie stills, maybe?
She flipped the pictures over. Kodak was printed on the back. "They could still have been printed off the computer," she said to herself.

Turning the pictures back over, she looked at each one again, trying to see if anything looked out of place. A movie camera or a light, maybe... something. There wasn't anything other than the man and the people in the background.