Souls of the Reaper Page 8

  Lacey’s thoughts drifted to the assault case, where she got the same feeling when they interviewed the suspect. The fine hairs on her neck stood on end as she wondered what could connect the two incidents. And maybe more. Like the one at La Femme? Colton’s truck? On impulse, she reached for the phone, dialing Dr. Dilorenzo’s office number.

  “Dilorenzo.” His cultured voice reminded her of her mentor Aegon’s dulcet tones.

  “Doctor, it’s Lieutenant Anderson.”

  “Lacey.” His informal use of her name swept away all hopes that she could keep this conversation on a professional level.

  “I have a question for you.”

  “I’m finishing up my report now, Lieutenant.”

  “It’s not about the report. Or, not exactly. It may be related, but I’m not sure.”

  “What’s on your mind, Lieutenant?”

  With a sigh of relief, she asked, “What do you know about Reapers?”

  “A little more than the average human, I bet. Since I specialize in the psychology of Immortal species, I’ve done quite a bit of schooling in all of them.”

  “So, you know how a Reaper does what he does?” She gave him a summary of the conversation with Dr. Matthews, and finished with the other man’s theory that perhaps the suspect they were looking for was a Reaper. “What’s your opinion?”

  There was a brief pause before he continued. “That’s a very interesting premise. I’m not sure there’s ever been a documented case of a Reaper stealing souls before their time. The doctor seemed certain this was possible?”

  “He mentioned that he’d heard a story along those lines, but, as with any Immortal lore, much of it is shrouded in mystery, so he wasn’t sure if it was an actual fact.”

  “I will turn my attention to researching this. You’ve intrigued me, and that’s not easy for most people to do. If I find anything of interest, I’ll let you know.”

  “Great.”

  “Lacey, would you like to go to dinner?” The words came out in a rush, almost as if he had no idea he was about to speak.

  “Um.” She was startled that he asked in such an offhand manner. “Okay.” Lacey was certain her voice sounded dubious.

  “Excellent. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, does that sound acceptable?”

  “Fine by me.” She mumbled the words, sure she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life.

  “Until then.”

  And she was left holding the phone to her ear, listening to the sound of a dial tone. Damn it, if he doesn’t always get the last word! She slammed the phone down in disgust.

  Taking a breath to steady herself, she started to call Colton to assign him some research on Reapers, then thought twice about it. Instead, she called her commander.

  “Wilson.” His strong voice seemed to bellow through the handset.

  “Commander, it’s Anderson.” Even knowing his caller ID would have shown him which extension she was calling from, old habits die hard. “I have a request, sir.”

  “What’s up, Lieutenant?”

  “I’d like to request an officer be assigned to the Undead Unit. Do we have paperwork for such a transfer request yet?”

  “We don’t, but I can do it for you. Have you discussed this with the officer in question?”

  “Yes, I mentioned it, sir, but only to establish whether she would want the transfer.”

  “Good. Who is it?”

  “Karan Moss.”

  “And she’s agreeable?” Lacey could hear the tapping of computer keys through the phone as her supervisor spoke.

  “Yes, sir. In fact, I’d go so far as to say she was excited.”

  “I’ll start the necessary paperwork. You can have her report to the Unit on Monday morning.”

  “Will do. Thank you, sir.”

  With that task out of the way, she stood, stretched, and left the office. When she got to Colton’s cubicle, she found him hunched over his laptop and muttering curses under his breath. Lacey smiled, and couldn’t resist a jab. “Problem?” She asked sweetly.

  As she expected, he jumped, banging his knees on the underside of the desk. “Damn it, can’t you walk like people?” It was said with a low growl.

  “You know I do it on purpose.”

  “Well, cut that shit out!” He ran one hand over his short, dark hair. “What do you want, anyway?”

  “Well, I was going to ask you to do some research on Reapers.”

  He pointed at the screen. “Already ahead of you, boss. For what it’s worth.”

  A glance at the screen told her he was accessing the internet, but the top bar and search box, and nothing else, was showing on the screen. In the middle of the white screen was a dark gray circle, spinning around and around as it attempted to load the page. “Wi-Fi down again?”

  “If it’s not, it might as well be. It’s been like this for ten minutes already.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Budget cuts. Maybe we’re cut off from high-speed internet, and back down to dial-up.”

  “Right? How did anyone ever get anything accomplished?”

  She didn’t deem to mention she’d lived before the internet. Or cell phones, cars, or any number of things people take for granted today. “So, I asked Doctor D about it, too, see if he had a different theory.”

  “Oh?” Colton turned to look at her. “What did the shrink say?”

  “He wasn’t immediately aware of any stories like what Niall told us, about Reapers stealing souls before the death of the body. But he said he was ‘intrigued’ and would conduct his own research.”

  Colton snorted. “Ha. He’s ‘intrigued.’ I’ll bet!” He made the symbol for air quotes with his fingers. “That sounds like something he’d say. Was he going to finish the evaluation report before he starts this research?”

  “He said he was finishing it up now. You know, when I thought about it, I started to wonder about all these petty incidents. Or what should have been petty. The fight over food at La Femme. Your truck being egged. The way our assault suspect acted, and the dog fighting ringleader. I mean, loads of people act as if they could care less about other people, as long as it doesn’t affect numero uno. This seems different.”

  “Yeah, I agree; it does feel off. But damn, can’t we catch normal frigging cases? We gotta always get stuck with the ones that are high-profile? And, this means the press will be all over it, like our Skinwalker case!” He snarled.

  “Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do. But, let’s see what we can find out about Reapers before we decide that’s what it is.”

  “You’re right.”

  “By the way, I talked to the commander about Officer Moss joining the Unit. He said he’d have the transfer cleared by Monday morning.”

  “Great, so we’ll have a rookie to break in. Lovely.” His voice was laced with sarcasm.

  “Well, look at it this way, you’ll finally have someone to boss around.”

  He grinned. “Now I think I like the sound of that.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  He looked intently at his computer screen, hands folded on his desk. Marcell was a rapid reader, and after his recent conversation with Lacey, he was combing the internet looking for available information on Reapers. He also had a stack of textbooks on one side of the table, one of them opened to a chapter about these Immortal beings.

  He had yet to find any mention of Reapers stealing souls, but he knew in doing any kind of research into Immortal beings, there was little hard data, and much supposition. So, he was moving from the information on his screen, to the textbooks, and back again, trying to find a happy medium between truth and fiction. It was much more difficult than he expected.

  With a sigh, he stood and strode to the coffee service in one corner of his office. While he absently poured a cup of coffee, he mused over what he read and wondered how he could easily explain it to someone as skeptical as Lacey. Even the stories and information contained in the academic textbooks left plenty of room for doubt.
With the coffee mug in hand, Marcell went back to his desk, where a thought suddenly struck him.

  “Of course!” He exclaimed.

  Using his laptop, he cleared his current web search and typed in a new one. This time, he was looking for newspaper articles, national news, talk and radio transcripts, and even web bloggers who talked about the issues of humans trying to deny citizenship rights to the Reapers. It was a long time ago, but he had lived during those times and knew that he could find numerous examples in digital media of stories, mythological or otherwise, which might net him the information he sought.

  He was correct. His internet search came back with hundreds of pages, and he knew there was no way he could comb through all the stories by himself. He picked up the phone.

  “Anderson.”

  “Lieutenant, if it’s convenient for you, I’d like you and your partner to come down to my office.”

  “Have you discovered something, doctor?”

  “Well, I think I’ll let you make that determination.”

  “We’re on our way.”

  “Excellent.” Again, he hung up the phone before she could respond, a smile of self-satisfaction curving his lips. Calculating how much time should pass before his guests arrived, he sat, sipping his coffee for a few more moments before returning to the beverage alcove in his office.

  He was pouring a mug of steaming tea when he heard the footsteps in the hallway. Turning toward the open door, he greeted them. “Hello, Lieutenant. Detective, how do you take your coffee?”

  “Uh, sweet and light for me.” Colton seemed uncomfortable.

  “Perfect.” Handing Lacey the cup of tea, and Colton, his coffee, he gestured toward the desk. “I’ve been doing some research into Reapers and their myths and legends. To be honest, there’s so much information that I think it would take an entire police unit a month to sift through.”

  Lacey groaned while Colton shifted in his chair. “Have you been able to figure out if any of it’s legit?” She set her cup down on the corner of the desk as she spoke.

  “Some of it is, of course.” He sat, crossing one ankle at the knee. “So, I started with the medical texts. This is backed up by studies and science.”

  “Go on.”

  “What the good doctor told you is correct. A Reaper needs a portion of energy they can only gain from the souls they harvest. It’s been described by scientists who are Reapers as a thin, gold thread. This is what they call the ‘mark of human’. It’s what is common to all human souls, sort of an ancestral fingerprint. This is what sustains them.”

  “Well, how can they tell the difference between that part and the rest of the soul?” Colton spoke up.

  “They say the rest of the soul is silver. It’s been described as almost smoke-like, or a thick mist. This is the part that is unique to each individual, the section of the spirit meant to move on to whatever awaits it.”

  “What about the addiction Niall mentioned?”

  Marcell looked at Lacey as he answered her. “Many Reapers have spoken of it. This is why selection of an apprentice is a lengthy and time-consuming process. Most Reapers who are seeking to retire can devote years or decades to finding a suitable candidate.”

  “What would make an unsuitable Reaper?” Again, it was Lacey who took the lead and asked the question.

  “An addictive personality, for certain,” he answered. He took a sip of coffee as he gathered his thoughts. “There are certain genetic predispositions in humans that can lead to addiction. Now, that could be to drugs, gambling, alcohol, nicotine, or even to sex or self-harm. There are also personality types that can lead to addiction. Often, we see drug dependency in people who have abnormal dopamine levels.”

  “What’s that mean?” Colton demanded.

  “Dopamine is a neurotransmitter, one of the chemicals in the brain,” he explained patiently. “It’s often called the ‘feel good’ hormone, as it brings with it general pleasant feelings, like the high experienced by marathon runners. And habituation is also considered more likely when you’re talking about young people, ranging in age from 16 to 28 years. Those who grow up in an environment that fosters addiction, as in where one or both of the parents are addicts, are more likely to become drug abusers themselves.”

  “Isn’t there a connection with depression, too?” Lacey’s voice sounded unsure, as if she was trying to remember something from a long-forgotten class.

  “There is. Depression and bipolar disorder often lead to drug or alcohol dependency, as the patient is attempting to gain comfort or temporarily escape from their mental pain.”

  “Okay, now I can understand why training of new Reapers would not be taken lightly.” She took another drink of her tea. “Is this potential for addiction one of the reasons humans wanted to keep Reapers out of the IIRD?” She was referring to the International Immortal Registry Database, into which every Immortal must submit a DNA sample before being allowed complete citizenship status; before they could get a driver’s license or state identification, and therefore work among humans, they must hold full status in their country and state of residence.

  “I was just about to look into that,” he replied, gesturing to the laptop. The device’s screen was black, as he had it programmed to go to sleep after 5 minutes of inactivity, so to protect any confidential patient information that he might have been looking at before an interruption. He keyed in his security code, and turned the computer so that Lacey and Colton could see it along with him. “Here, I did an internet search for any news articles, talk shows, and even blogs that had information on the Reapers and their admission status. As you can see, there are several hundred pages’ worth of hits.”

  “That is way too much for us to comb through.” She seemed disappointed. “Especially since we don’t know exactly what we’re looking for.”

  “Unquestionably. However, I will attempt to narrow down the search a little more, using specific keywords that might help. In the meantime, I have a colleague at Johns Hopkins who could shed more light on this theory. He’s a Vampire, not a Reaper, but he was a member of the team who first began to study the Reapers, once the government deemed it necessary to learn about them in detail. I’ll give you his contact information.”

  “You mean I got to cozy up with another Vamp?” Colton sneered, and Marcell wasn’t sure if he was serious or simply sarcastic.

  “Behave,” Lacey snapped at her partner. “Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

  “You sure don’t know my mother!” He laughed at her, leading Marcell to believe he was being sarcastic. “Hey, I was taught manners with all the sensitivity of a drill sergeant.”

  Marcell smiled to himself, at the picture thus presented of Colton’s mother and any numerous ways he could think of her teaching a pack of stubborn-headed Werewolf pups lessons in etiquette. “You have your tablet?” He included both of them in his question.

  Lacey pulled hers out first. “Can you send me your colleague’s information?”

  He did so with a flick of the finger. “I’ll also send him a short text message telling him to expect your call.”

  “Thank you, doctor.” Lacey’s voice sounded absent as she verified the data transfer.

  He wanted to speak to her privately about their dinner date, but knew she’d hate if he mentioned it in front of her partner. When they spoke about the possibilities of getting to know one another better outside the job, during one of her therapy sessions, she brought up the fact that it wouldn’t be proper if it was known around the station that they were dating. Marcell told her it wasn’t against regulations, but she was stubborn. He was relieved enough that she might be open to the suggestion, so he didn’t press the issue. Even more, he was pleased that the attraction he felt for Lacey might work both ways.

  Marcell stood and took their cups, returning them to the corner of the office. He would put them through the wall-mounted washer before leaving for the day. “I will contact you immediately if I discover anything in my research
. Oh, and the evaluation of your assault suspect is on file now.”

  “Okay, I appreciate you taking the time, Doctor Dilorenzo.” She waved a hand at Colton, and the two of them left his office. He returned to his desk, taking his cell from his pocket and sending a quick message. Then, he turned back to the data on his screen.

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  When they returned to the unit, Lacey sent Colton to finish tugging at the research he started before the two of them met with the psychologist, and she went into her office, closing the door behind her. If she was going to be discussing Reapers in detail over the phone, she didn’t want anyone in the bullpen hearing it. A case like this could, as Colton mentioned, create a media frenzy, somewhat like their last one. If it was true that they were seeking a rogue Reaper, she wanted to keep a lid on it for as long as she could. Reapers already got a bad enough rap from the humans as it was; she could imagine the hate crimes that would break out once the story went public. If one Reaper could steal souls, then all of them could. It would be open season on Reapers, and quite a few humans who happened to share certain physical traits.

  Though she wasn’t at all inclined to simply telephone a stranger out of the blue, Lacey knew that Marcell wouldn’t have pointed her in that direction unless he thought the man could help her. So she sighed, did a quick time zone calculation, and determined that it was still business hours in Maryland. So she pulled the information up on her tablet, and dialed the phone.

  A woman answered on the second ring. “Johns Hopkins Immortal Psychology Research center, how may I direct your call?”

  “I need to speak with Jaidon Ingold, please.” Lacey hoped she hadn’t mangled the psychologist’s name.

  “One moment please.” Irritating canned music began to play through the handset.

  Lacey had almost decided to hang up when the line clicked, and another woman asked, “Dr. Ingold’s office, who is calling, please?”