The Chaos Tree
Chapter 1
Author's Note:
My thanks go to Ridley C James for creating this amazing AU that I love so much, and for RCJ and Tidia's creations in this wonderful 'verse!
This tale is set after my first Brotherhood AU story, The Guard Changed at Dawn, and will reference characters and situations there occasionally. Most of those instances will be explained in the current story, so this tale stands on its own.
On with the show!
Ethan Matthews leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. His office wasn't as large as his rank might demand, but it suited him right down to his booted toes. And he was exhausted. He'd been working for two weeks straight with no days off, and it was showing. Rumbled clothing, disorderly hair, dark circles imbedded around his eyes, dark and light gray scruff; he was a mess. He was even coffeed out, which was a feat he hadn't believed possible.
Ethan had been a Houston cop for decades. Despite turning down several offers of promotion after reaching the rank of Lieutenant, he'd finally succumbed to overhead pressure twelve years ago and agreed to man the Captain's chair. A love for the streets and an extreme hatred for paperwork had kept him from accepting the position for years. On the cusp of his sixtieth birthday, however, his twin brother Elijah had finally convinced him he could be the boss and still work the streets. All he needed to do was budget his time and rely on one of the uniformed officers to help with the paperwork. It had sounded easy, but as Ethan knew; sounding easy was rarely actually easy. While schedules, budgets, reviews and other paperwork kept him busy, he still managed to work at least one case a month. It kept him sharp on the team dynamics in his division, and his squad loved that he wasn't a behind-the-desk manager. He could get his hands dirty with the rest of them.
There was another aspect of his life that his squad knew nothing about, a larger part; being a member of the Brotherhood. He'd been fighting the supernatural for decades, far longer than he'd been a cop. He'd been raised in the Brotherhood by his father, Jarrett Matthews. His father had died following others who were rebelling against the Guardian of their time, Pastor Jim Murphy. His father's best friend, Griffin Porter, a man who had been a presence in Ethan's life since he was born, had led that treasonous faction. It had taken Ethan years to come to grips with his father's betrayal of everything they held dear. The fact that his father had died trying to save the next Triad was a deep solace he'd finally been able to accept. And while he'd lost his best friend Gideon to Griffin's nefarious schemes, he'd gained additional friendships which he relied on and treasured. Forgiveness and reconciliation with Porter had come gradually, a fragile fence mended before the older man's passing.
"Captain?"
Giving an internal sigh, Ethan straightened and opened his eyes. In the doorway stood one of his division's best detectives; Lance Renault. "Problem?" he asked with a weary smile.
"Considering the last couple weeks, that's a loaded question."
Stepping inside the office, Lance dropped into one of the broken-down chairs fronting Ethan's desk, weariness and exhaustion evident in every muscle of his body.
"When was the last time you got some sleep?" Ethan asked.
Lance shrugged. "Been a couple days. I've had as little as everyone else, so I'll wait till midnight, when it's my turn."
Ethan nodded. His team had been driven to the edge by an unprecedented tornado of violence that was sweeping the city. Every division, every shift had been worked to the bone, and still Houston was in chaos. In all his years of law enforcement, he'd never seen anything like it; never read of anything like it either. The pandemonium hadn't started on a low simmer and built. No, the madness had simply exploded into a white-hot fire two Saturdays ago and it had been non-stop mayhem and death ever since. They'd had to call in the National Guard for assistance and reinforcements.
Looking at his watch, Ethan said, "Then in two hours you've got some down time. Make sure you get at least six solid, capisce?"
"Only if you get six too," Lance retorted. He knew his captain; Ethan would make sure everyone got sleep, even if it was at his own expense.
"We'll see," Ethan equivocated with a smile. "What's up?"
"Got Cam Stolts in interrogation."
"Cam? What's he done now?" Cam Stolts was a career criminal who'd been in and out of prison since he was seventeen. Now, at fifty-two, he was a fixture in the Vice Division of Houston PD, usually dealing in pornography and running a fairly efficient circle of prostitutes. He watched over his merchandise and was fair with their cuts of the action. Girls and boys lined up to work in his stable. Considering the violence and mayhem in the city right now, he was harmless.
"That's just it; he hasn't done anything. Except he's confessing to an accidental murder from when he was fourteen years old."
"Fourteen?" Ethan frowned. Cam had been in trouble for years, but he wasn't capable of murder.
"We got perps coming out our ears, and frankly, we don't have time for this. But he won't leave until he sees you. Can you come to interrogation; give him … absolution or something?"
"If he's confessing to murder, then no can do. Can you get someone in from Homicide?"
"They're up to their eyeballs, just like us."
Ethan sighed and pushed himself to his feet. His body protested the action as his muscles had been pushed far beyond their stress limits. "All right, let's hear what he's got to say."
Following Lance out through the squad room to the interrogation rooms, Ethan had to force himself to stop yawning. He hadn't slept in … well, he couldn't remember the last time he slept. He needed to get some shut eye soon, or he would be useless.
Inside the observation room, he stepped up beside Lance and stared through the two-way mirror. Two men were sitting at the narrow table; Lieutenant Daniel Gutierrez on one side, his back to the mirror, and a distraught man on the other. It took Ethan a moment to recognize the red-faced, puffy-eyed man as Cam.
"It was an accident," Cam insisted, between sobs. "She was startled when she came downstairs and I was in her living room. She turned to run, tripped on the lounge chair and went down hard. Then she was dead! Honest, I didn't touch her, but she would have been alive if I hadn't been there." Cam dropped his head on the table and sobbed for all he was worth.
Moving to the door, Ethan stepped inside the room. Motioning for the Lieutenant to get up, he nodded his thanks and sat across from the sobbing man. "Cam?"
The man's head rose. Tears ran in steady streams down his cheeks. "Cap'ain, I didn't mean it; I didn't touch her. But she's dead cause I needed money."
Ethan nodded. He believed that Cam hadn't done anything but break into a lady's house to get some money for drugs, cigarettes or beer, and there was no attorney from the DA's office who would charge Cam for an accidental death that had occurred thirty-eight years ago when he was a minor. But right now, the man before him was distraught and he needed to do something to calm him down.
"Cam? I'm going to have to lock you up."
Cam Stoltz nodded slowly. "Ain't nothin' more than I deserve, Cap'ain."
"We'll sort this out later, all right?" Ethan rose and nodded to the Lieutenant, who helped the prisoner rise and they left the room.
Lance Renault stepped inside, his eyebrows raised in question.
"Put him…" Ethan shook his head. They were more than full up in the cells. "…somewhere. We'll look into the incident later and decide whether to hand him over to Homicide."
"Sounds like an accidental death."
"In the commission of a felony," Ethan stated.
"He was under age and the statue of limitations has long since lapsed."
"We'll check it out; see how she actually died when we have the time." Ethan stepped out of the interrogation room and headed back to the squad room, Detective Renault at his side. Shaking his head, he murmured, "What the hell is going on?"
"Captain?" Lance prodded.
"This is the fourth spontaneous confession we've had today."
Lance nodded. "Yeah. Been happening in other divisions too."
"Got deets?"
"Not many. Just heard the talk. Know of one incident: Miguel Ortega in burglary is interrogating this perp that he caught red-handed with car parts from Louie's Garage down on Main. It's a Class A Misdemeanor, for which he won't even get a year in prison, and he starts confessing to things he's done since he was eleven."
Ethan couldn't get his mind around what he was hearing. Career criminals kept loads of secrets, they didn't start confessing to everything they'd ever done in their lives. It just didn't happen.
They had just stepped into the squad room when he heard the scanner; "Code ten-seven-one, code ten-seven-one; officer down, officer down. Unknown injury. Viceroy's Cabaret, 2034 Richmond."
Ethan took one short scan of the nearly empty squad room and said, "Lopez, you're with me."
Lance, who was already reaching for his jacket, stopped abruptly. "Captain?" He'd been expecting to take the call.
"You're down in two and you need it. I'll take Lopez and wrap this up."
"But…"
"You're in charge here." Ethan ducked into his office for his coat and was out the door followed by uniform officer José Lopez.
Two Weeks Ago…
Diana Ballard swiped her hair back off her sweaty face and huffed out a huge breath. It had taken almost three weeks to clean up after the chaos that had hit Baltimore a month before. The violence had hit suddenly and torn the city asunder. The jails and holding cells had been overflowing with humanity. As one of the leading Lieutenants of the City Wide Robbery Unit, she'd been on the front lines during the mayhem, had arrested more people during those weeks than she had in nearly her entire career.
In her early days on the Baltimore Police Force, her career had been on the fast track. She was smart, ambitious, good-looking, and she'd used all those assets to her advantage. After her rookie training, she'd become a beat cop, patrol cop, and been promoted to a Detective in Robbery at only twenty-seven. By the time she was thirty, she gotten a transfer to the higher profile Homicide Division. She was already scheduled to take her Corporals exam when her career trajectory hit a speed bump named Dean and Sam Winchester.
In two-thousand and six, she'd been partnered with Detective Pete Sheridan. She'd thought the world of Pete, and their attraction to one another quickly escalated to lovers. That relationship had blinded her to his nefarious side activities. He'd murdered people right under her nose, and when she found him out, Pete tried to convince her to frame the Winchesters. The entire debacle ran the gamut from Sam Winchester escaping, to her seeing a ghost, she and Sam finding the murdered Claire Becker, and to Pete removing Dean from custody with the intent of murdering him. The finale had was her being forced to kill her partner rather than let him murder Dean. For the cherry on top, she'd let the Winchesters go free. The Internal Affairs Investigation had been long, grueling and thorough, but the end result was she'd been cleared of any wrong doing, even in losing the prisoners. After all, Sam was on record as having escaped from a uniformed police officer posted outside his interrogation room, and Pete was the one who signed Dean out of the holding cells. However, her career in Homicide was gone.
She'd been transferred back to the Robbery Division where she'd worked for years to polish up her reputation and regain the trust of her peers. It was nearly five years before she was allowed to take the Corporal's exam, and since then she'd climbed through Sergeant to attain the rank of Lieutenant, though Captain's bars remained elusive. Despite doing a stellar job for the last thirty years, someone else was always a better "fit" for the Captain's chair. But she'd made the most of her time on the Baltimore Police Force, and could retire with a respectable pension and the good will of her fellow officers.
Now, it was almost midnight, and she'd finally finished the last of her paperwork. Leaning back in her chair, she stared at her computer screen, frowning. She still didn't understand what had happened; it wasn't unseasonably hot for this time of year. Hot weather usually resulted in short tempers and more calls for the police. There had been no racial or political upheavals, there were no ongoing gang or drug wars. But still, on a clear Wednesday night the city had erupted into violence. Every department on the force had been stretched to the limit. The odd thing was, that on the flip side, hundreds of people had come out to help the wounded and the victims of that violence. They brought blankets, pillows, food and water to those in need. They even brought hot food to the beleaguered police department and donated to the department in record amounts. Yes, there were always people who helped during the city's tough moments, but this outpouring had been exceptional.
Shaking her head, she swiveled in her chair and looked back at the two sergeants behind her. "You two almost done?"
Sergeant Meghan Cavanagh shook her head. "Still got the domestic rape and the burglary on fifteenth to write up."
"I got the home invasion on third; the family dinner that ended abruptly," Sergeant Daniel Rizzo stated.
Diana nodded and said, "Cavanagh, hand over the rape. If we work together, we should be out of here in half an hour."
Meghan Cavanagh organized the pages and handed over the file folder. Eyeing the Lieutenant, she asked quietly, "Do you know what happened?"
Diana gripped the file; the question was packed with innuendos and curiosity. Ever since the Tony Giles case, she'd somehow gotten the reputation of being the go-to person for weirdness in the city. She hadn't sought the title, had tried to distance herself from those types of cases, but they seemed to find her anyway. Once you saw the weird and unnatural, you couldn't look the other way. It had given her old eyes.
Eyeing both Cavanagh and Rizzo, who had turned around at Meghan's question, she confessed, "I truly don't know. I've never even heard of anything like what happened here a month ago." She shook her head. "I've seen gang wars, racial wars, protests that ended badly, more violence than I'd care to recall. But nothing like what we saw here last month."
Meghan nodded slowly.
"Global warming?" Rizzo suggested, with a sly smile.
Diana barked out a laugh. "As good an explanation as any." Swiveling back around to face her computer, she said, "Last one finished buys the first round."
She heard Sergeants Cavanagh and Rizzo attack their computer keyboards with renewed energy. Instead of doing the same, however, Diana turned her eyes on her phone. There was someone she should probably contact about all this. There was a question that plagued her; was what happened here in Baltimore truly as weird as it seemed? Her gut told her yes, logic said she should do a bit more research before she made that call. Turning back to her computer, she started typing … fast. After all, she really didn't want to spring for the first round.
Singer Salvage - One Week Ago…
Jody Mills put down the telephone, frowning.
"Something wrong?" Jackson asked.
Jackson Cull was a hunter that had been sidelined from the job nine years ago when a black dog clawed his left side and leg, severing several tendons and incurring major damage to his body. Since then, he'd helped hunters by doing research and manning the phones at Bobby's old homestead. His partner Steve Walker, who'd been injured before him, helped with the running of Singer Salvage and aided hunters in the ongoing battle against evil. Mark Wright had come to the Yard more recently after he'd been injured saving a family from a rawhead. Together, they did whatever they could to help hunters in the field. Right now, everyone was gathered around the kitchen table having lunch.
"I'm not sure," Jody said, returning to her chair and the remainder of her meal. "That was Donna."
"Donna Hanscum, from Stillwater?" Steve asked.
Jody nodded. "She said Stillwater just went through a very weird experience. They were hit with a wave of lawlessness and violence the likes of which she's never seen in her twenty-eight years on the force."
Mark frowned. "Like…?"
"Record burglaries, home invasions, murders, citizens driving erratically, exiting vehicles stopped in the middle of the street to attack other people. Bystanders suddenly punching out people around them."
"Has it been unseasonably hot this year?" Jackson asked.
"I don't think so. Donna wouldn't have called if that had been the case. No, this is something more. She also said vice has been through the roof; clubs packed out and violence escalating, people having sex anywhere and everywhere, even the public parks."
"Road trip?" Mark quipped.
Jody rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. "She said the other odd thing is the police department has received over three hundred thousand dollars in donations to the police benevolent fund."
Steve's eyes bulged. "In Stillwater, Minnesota? They have that kind of money?"
"No, they don't. Even after formal fundraisers Donna said the most they've ever raised is twenty-five thousand."
Steve put down his sandwich. "You think Stillwater has been hit with a spell of some kind?"
Jody shook her head. "That's the weirdest part. She said that the violence started out of the blue three weeks ago, then after twelve days, it abruptly stopped."
"Kind of sounds like a spell," Jackson observed.
Jody shrugged. "I suppose it's possible."
"Does she need some support?" Mark asked.
"How are the people?" Steve asked at the same time.
"Donna said many of them seemed to be in shock, as though they don't know what happened."
Jackson shoved his plate away. "They're all right?"
"There are plenty of wounded, some deaths. People are almost hysterical with grief over the death of loved ones. They don't seem to comprehend what happened." Jody took a sip of her iced tea. "I think we should do some research, take a look at what happened there, see if anything like sudden outbursts of violence has happened before."
"Accompanied by sudden bursts of altruism," Mark added.
"What happened with the police benevolent fund?" Jackson asked, as knowing gleam in his eye.
"Most of the donations have been rescinded," Jody remarked with wry humor.
"Yeah," Jackson nodded rising from his seat and gathering the lunch things to put away. "I've got a part to deliver. I'll make quick work of it and meet you all in the library."
Jody picked up the remnants of her sandwich.
"You want to go to Stillwater?" Jackson asked as he placed his dishes in the sink. "We got the research covered."
"Yeah, maybe. I want to see what's happening on the ground. Maybe I'll find something out."
Mark rose. "I'm going with you."
Jody nodded slowly. "I think that would be good."
Steve pushed back his chair and rose. "You want to call Dean?"
Jody considered that a moment before shaking her head. "No, not yet. I want to make sure there's something to call him about before I pull that trigger. Besides, Donna may have already called."
Jackson nodded. "Then we'll see you in a couple of days. Call us with any additional information you uncover."
"Will do." Jody tucked the last of her sandwich in her mouth and took her plate to the sink. Looking to Mark, she said, "I'm heading home for a bag. I'll be back in thirty and we'll hit the road.
Mark nodded and headed for the stairs and his own packing.
With a nod to Jackson and Steve, Jody walked from the kitchen, grabbed her coat and went out the front door. She was glad she would be seeing Donna, and also curious. Was this something supernatural, or simply a case of humanity's rising violence quota? Guess she was about to find out.
Two Days Ago…
Riley Adams spun quickly to the left, dodging a blow aimed for his head. Breathing hard, he whipped his shotgun around and fired. He and Bradley had the foresight to fill their cartridges with silver rather than the usual rock salt, and he was glad they had. Vetalas weren't usually this aggressive.
He and Bradley Lowell, his long-time hunting partner, had come to the small town of Chappell Hill, Texas to take care of a pair of Vetalas.
Vetalas were serpent-like creatures that appeared human, but reverted to their serpent form when killed correctly: a silver dagger through the heart and twisted. They were territorial, hunted in pairs and usually avoided all other creatures, even others of their own kind. Together, a pair would scope out a territory, establish a lair and hunt in relative solace. Their fangs held a venom that paralyzed their prey, and once incapacitated, the victim would be taken to the lair where the Vetalas could feed on their blood for days before the captive died.
Vetala weren't normally aggressive, relying on their wiles and cunning to escape other supernatural baddies or hunters. Riley had been expecting to dispatch the two preying on this small town of six hundred residents without too much difficulty. But when they'd arrived in Chappell Hill, he and Bradley had found six Vetala rather than the normal two. And instead of their usual modus operandi, they were attacking the residents and killing them outright, feeding in a gluttonous abandon. When confronted by Riley and Bradley, they hadn't run, but attacked with extreme prejudice.
Bradley dove to the ground under an attack by two Vetalas, rolling twice before he came up on his knees where he could fire his shotgun. "We need … to fall back," he panted, using his weapon to ward off the long talons of a Vetala male.
"Roger that," Riley grunted. He stabbed one of the Vetala in the chest, but wasn't able to twist the blade and kill the creature. "Ideas?"
Bradley swiped at one of the Vetalas, climbed to his feet and maneuvered over to Riley's side. "We're going to move slowly … shoulder to shoulder."
"Forget knives," Riley panted. "Guns."
Bradley dodged to the side and drove his knife into another Vetala, then kicked it back with his foot. A second snuck in from the side and nearly got him with its long, sharp talons before he ducked and danced back a few feet.
Riley gave another creature a kick to the midsection, then fired his semiautomatic in a short, arcing bursts that knocked back three others. "Come on!"
"On your…"
Suddenly all six Vetala stopped fighting.
Riley and Bradley stumbled slightly and froze, stunned at the sudden cessation of battle. Panting heavily, they watched the serpent-like creatures stare at one another. Reptilian eyes wide, they seemed to be in some sort of shock. Slowly one Vetala staggered past two others and leaned into what was probably its mate. The other two slowly shuffled drunkenly to their own likely mates. Then abruptly, each pair turned on its heels and raced away, leaving the two dumbstruck hunters staring after them.
Mouths dropped in surprise, Bradley finally said dryly, "Well, we sort of let that opportunity slip through our fingers."
Riley snorted out a laugh. "We could have killed them all when they were standing there staring at us."
Bradley laughed as he relaxed his fighting stance. "This stays between us."
Riley chuckled, shook his head and started picking up their equipment. "You want to guess what just happened here?"
"You mean why Vetalas, who are usually somewhat reclusive, who sedate their victims rather than attack them, were acting like Wendigos on steroids?"
"Yeah, that." Riley stood, his eyes grave. "And why suddenly stop?"
"It was like they woke up," Bradley said.
Riley turned his head and stared off in the direction the Vetalas ran. "You think they might have been under a spell, or something?"
"It's possible. No way to know without testing their blood." He waved a blood-coated knife in the air. "We could do some research on hypnotism, brainwashing spells, something like that."
"Yeah," Riley murmured. With a sigh, he said, "Come on, let's check out their lair, see if anyone is left alive."
Bradley shoved the shotguns and knives into a duffle and slung it over his shoulder. "You don't think they went back to their lair?"
"Doubt it," Riley said. "We'll be careful, but I think they were freaked enough to leave the territory."
Since Vetalas stay close to their lairs when feeding, Riley and Bradley had already scoped out where it was, and had confronted them nearby. Carefully, they made their way back to the cave. Before entering, they waited outside to see if the Vetalas were inside, but they heard nothing, not even the sounds of animals or insects. Leading the way, Riley ducked inside. After a moment, he moved in further, followed closely by Bradley. As it was night, their eyes were already adjusted to the darkness, and they moved with careful precision further into the cave structure, looking for a bigger feeding ground. They found it several yards in.
Bradley grimaced at the two bodies lying close to the back wall. It was obvious they were dead. There would be no rescue for them. There was another lying near a large rock, hands and body bound with a chain, eyes closed. He looked over at Riley, who lifted his semi-automatic and nodded. Bradley moved quickly and carefully across the floor. As he got closer, he saw a second body lying curled in on itself on the backside of the rock. He checked the pulse on the female captive, then rounded the massive stone to check the male on the far side. He looked back at Riley and nodded; they were both alive. Leaning down again, he tapped gently at the male's cheek.
It took a minute, but the captive moaned softly. Slowly his eyes slid up and widened as his gaze focused on Bradley. "Run, run!"
Bradley patted the man's hand and said, "Shhhh, you're all right. They're gone," I think, he added to himself. Quickly he picked the lock on the chain binding the man to the rock and helped him sit up.
"My girlfriend, my girlfriend…"
"Hey, calm down, she's alive," Bradley murmured. "I'm going to check her right now." Quietly he scooted around the boulder and picked the lock on her chains and shifted her gently onto her back. Softly he patted her cheek until a soft groan sounded.
"Mandy," the man cried with a sob, "Mandy."
"Urmmpphh," the girl muttered. Very slowly her eyes opened.
Bradley smiled. Her eyes were dull and filled with pain. "Hey. We're here, you and…" he looked over at the man.
"Hunter," he man murmured.
Bradley forced himself not to smile at the irony as he said, "You and Hunter are going to be fine, Mandy."
Finally, the girl sighed. "Hunter?"
Hunter scrambled gingerly around the boulder and said, "I'm here, Mandy, I'm here."
It wasn't until she saw his face that she finally smiled even as she started to cry.
Bradley said to Hunter, "Stay here a minute, see if you both can stand. My partner is by the entrance," he pointed to Riley, who waved his hand. "We're going to figure out how to get you out of here."
"Those things…" Hunter began.
"I know, I know. We'll figure it out. All right?"
Hunter nodded. Turning he began to help Mandy sit up, unthreading the chains from around her body.
Bradley hurried over to Riley. "We're going to have to drop them at the hospital. Lost in the woods?"
Riley nodded. "We're searching for Nycticeius Humeralis, the Evening Bat."
Bradley stared a moment. "Just know that off the top of your head, huh? You know the oddest stuff."
Riley rolled his eyes. "As an Archeologist, I'm in a lot of caves. You get to know your neighbors."
"Guess so," Bradley acknowledged with a soft laugh. "Okay, the car is close by. Let's get them there as fast as possible."
"Can they walk?"
Bradley nodded. "Yeah, I think so. At least Hunter can."
Riley couldn't help his smile.
"Yeah, yeah," Bradley murmured. Hunters who rescued a victim named Hunter. Quickly he jogged back over to Hunter and Mandy. "Can you guys walk a little bit?"
Hunter's eyes were wide and shocky as he took in the two bodies along the back wall, though he kept his body between them and Mandy. His gaze jerked to Bradley, who merely shook his head. Tears filled Hunter's eyes. Taking a moment to get himself under control, he finally said, "Yeah, we can walk a little ways."
Bradley nodded. "Then let's go, shall we?"
Hunter's eyes went back to the other two who wouldn't be leaving the cave with them. Finally, he stood carefully and helped Bradley raise Mandy to her feet.
Bradley lifted Mandy's left arm and laid it over Hunter's shoulder. "Just hang on, all right? We're going to take this slow."
Mandy nodded. Together, all three walked to Riley, who led the way out of the caves, constantly vigilant in cause the Vetalas returned. When they got outside, Riley continued to lead the way through the woods, down a small, sloping hillside toward the forest's frontage road.
"Here," Bradley said, as he opened the back door to their SUV.
Hunter helped Mandy inside, and was just climbing in beside her when she asked, "Eric? Beth?" He looked back at Bradley.
Bradley leaned in slightly. "They were with you?"
Mandy nodded.
Giving Hunter a look and seeing the answer to his unspoken question in the younger man's eyes as to who the other two were in the cave, Bradley said, "I'm so sorry. They didn't make it."
Mandy dropped her face into her palms and started sobbing.
Hunter rubbed her back while Riley opened the SUV's back hatch and dumped in his and Bradley's duffels. He then pulled out two pairs of binoculars. After hanging one around his neck, he walked with the other to the driver's side and climbed in, handing Bradley the second pair across the front seat. Turning to face the back seat, he said, "Hunter, Mandy, this isn't going to be easy, but you will survive." The two survivors looked up. "Unfortunately, you can't tell anyone about those creatures."
"Wha … what?" stuttered Hunter.
"The creatures that kidnapped you, and Eric and Beth, are something people don't understand," Bradley said gently. "They're like vampires or werewolves."
Mandy's eyes widened. "Vampires?"
Riley smiled gently. "See? What would happen if you told the doctors at the hospital that vampires kidnapped you? They'd put you in the psych ward."
"But … what are they?" Hunter asked.
"They're a creature of mythology called a Vetala. It's a serpent that has also looks human."
"A … snake that looks human?"
"Pretty much," Riley confirmed. "We're taking you to the hospital to get treatment. You're going to say you got lost, took shelter in a cave, and got bit by some snakes."
"Can you do that?" Bradley asked, his eyes on the distraught girl.
Mandy nodded slowly.
"Yeah, I guess," Hunter said. "But … will those things … come back?"
"No, they won't be coming back," Riley assured the pair. After exhausting a feeding ground, Vetala rarely returned, instead opting to establish new feeding areas elsewhere.
"You're sure?" Mandy whispered.
"Yes," Bradley said. "We're going to kill them."
Hunter and Mandy stared at that statement, until Hunter finally nodded. "Yeah, okay … good."
Mandy sniffed. As her eyes filled with teas again, she asked, "Eric and Beth?"
"We're going to take care of them," Bradley said. "Don't worry, we'll make sure they're found and taken home."
Riley started the car, and they drove to the hospital in silence. When they pulled up near the emergency room doors, Bradley climbed out of the car and jogged inside.
Turning around in the driver's seat, Riley eyed the two huddled together in the back. "I know you're frightened, I know this experience is going to haunt you for awhile. But you will be all right, okay? Be there for each other, talk to one another. Don't clam up. Communicate. If you need some help dealing with all this, call this number…" Riley handed over a card with a phone number. "Some very good people will answer. They'll get you whatever support you need, if it's a doctor, or a counselor, or a psychiatrist. They can help."
The automatic doors of the hospital opened and four orderlies and two doctors followed Bradley out of the hospital pulling two gurneys.
"I don't know how you found them," one of the doctors was saying.
"People really go bat watching?" an orderly asked.
"Definitely," Bradley said. "They come out at night. Sometimes good comes from darkness."
Soon Hunter and Mandy were out of the car and lying on gurneys. Hunter reached out and grabbed Bradley's arm. "Thank you, for finding us. I'm going to call that number."
Bradley patted Hunter's arm. "Good. Do it. Ask for Ben, all right?"
Hunter nodded as he was whisked away.
One of the orderlies said, "The police will want to talk to you. You did a great thing here."
Riley watched the young woman jog back through the doors in the wake of the other personnel. Turning to his partner, he said, "You want to get something to eat?"
"Yeah, sounds good. I left my number with the orderly," Bradley said. "We can take the police to the other two when they call."
Together they walked back to their SUV and climbed inside.
"We're going to have to track them again," Riley commented.
"Won't be easy. I have a feeling the Vetalas were freaked enough to run for a long while."
"Yeah," Riley sighed. After driving for a few quiet minutes, he said, "We need to look into what happened.
Bradley nodded, his eyes on the shadows and dark buildings passing by. "Yeah, we do."
Now…
Ethan Matthews pulled to the curb a block south of Viceroy's Cabaret, sirens on silent. He flipped the lock on the ignition switch and jumped from the car. Lopez was already out and near the hood, waiting. Adjusting his bullet proof vest, Ethan walked up, eyes sharp, taking in the situation.
The sidewalk was a wreck; broken chairs, glass and trash mounded in heaps. Three cop cars were sitting haphazardly outside the club where the patrolmen had obviously parked in a hurry and rushed inside. They could hear the din from inside the club a block away.
Matthews backtracked to the trunk of the car. He pulled out the equipment for dispensing tear gas and handed it to Lopez before pulling out the Long Range Acoustical hand held device. In their infancy, LRAD's could damage a person's hearing or cause long term sensitivity to the ear drum. Now, the LRAD was an effective way to shut down a riot without bodily injury or death, to either civilians or officers.
Shutting the trunk quietly but firmly, he said, "Let's get closer, take stock. If the fight is winding down, I don't want to use the tear gas."
Lopez nodded. He slung the gas dispenser rifle over his shoulder by its strap and lifted his gun, which was filled with rubber bullets. His police issue side arm was holstered but ready to draw should the need arise.
Ethan led the way, moving along the building walls until he got to the darkened Cabaret windows. Quickly he peeked inside, then pulled back. Experience gave him the ability to assess the room at a glance, and the result wasn't encouraging. The front room looked like it had been hit by a tornado. There were bodies in motion everywhere; falling, rising, flying and stumbling. He hadn't been able to see the officers or the wounded. The situation needed to be contained - now. Glancing back at Lopez, he lifted his acoustical devise.
Lopez nodded and put in his earplugs. When he was protected and had lifted his weapon again, Ethan put in his own earplugs. Lifting the LRAD, he whipped around to face the window and pulled the trigger.
Rather than the usual disorientation, nausea, vomiting, people staggering and holding their ears, the violence appeared to escalate. Ethan knew he couldn't call on anyone for back up; there wasn't anyone to call. Turning to Lopez, he nodded. The officer lifted the tear gas riffle to his shoulder and fired twice. One small, concentrated canister of tear gas went to the back right of the large room, and the second went to the middle left. As soon as the canisters hit the ground, they went off.
Confusion and screaming erupted as people rushed for the exit en masse. Ethan and Lopez flanked the doors, and as people stumbled out, they quickly zip-tied their hands together and let them stagger into the street or stumbled to their knees. A couple tried to attack, but Ethan wasn't taken off guard. He'd fought monsters for decades; he could handle some tear-gassed aggressives.
When a cop stumbled out the door, Ethan grabbed his arm and slung him around behind him, then went back to suppressing more combatants.
Suddenly a large, muscled man that stood somewhere around six-foot-five charged through the door, yelling bloody murder. Quickly Ethan stuck out his foot, tripping the man. Shoving the zip ties into the hands of the officer behind him, he grabbed the man's large hands and shoved them upwards behind his back, effectively driving the man forward and onto his knees. Enraged, the large man leaned forward and climbed back to his feet, pulling Ethan forward and off balance. Screaming, he bucked backward then shoved his head back in an attempt to knock Ethan in the face. But while Ethan was too seasoned for that trick to work, the man's action and his height caused him to stagger back, off balance.
"Damn it," Ethan growled. He needed to stop this guy, quick. Hauling back, he kicked the large man in the knee, dislodging his knee cap and causing the man to drop to the ground, screaming in pain. He nodded in satisfaction. Taking out the knee was a time-honored way to put down a raging bull.
Scuffing between the crowd was starting up again as the affects of the acoustic device and the tear gas wore down. Ethan was trying to tighten a thick zip tie on the large, moaning man when another person attacked him from behind. Matthews grabbed the man's arm, bent over and tossed his attacker over his shoulder so he landed atop the man he'd kicked in the knee.
"Captain!"
Ethan spun just as another man swung a large table leg at his head. Ducking, he gut-punched the man directly in the solar plexus. The man went down. After fending off three more attackers, Ethan dodged to the side and pulled his weapon. Rubber bullets, his gun was filled with rubber bullets. He couldn't use his police issue if he wanted to keep the body count down, but if the acoustic weapon and the tea gas hadn't worked, how effective would rubber bullets be?
People were still pouring out of the Cabaret and he couldn't find his cops. Making a decision, he turned and raced back down the street to his police vehicle. Popping the trunk, he pulled a gas mask over his face and pulled out two canisters of sleeping gas. They didn't use sleeping gas often, as neurogenic general anesthesia wasn't popular with anyone, criminal nor the human rights advocates. However, he had neither the man power to subdue this out of control mob, nor the physical reserves to take out everyone on his own. He couldn't even find his own men.
Running back toward the violence that ramping up to a fevered pitch, he lifted one of the canisters. Threading a finger through the pull ring, he was just about to yank the metal ring and toss the canister when everything and everyone just stopped.
The silence in the street was so profound, it took Ethan by surprise, literally stunning him. One second before human beings were kicking, hitting, pounding and assaulting one another, and suddenly every single one was standing there wearing an expression of stunned disbelief.
Gathering his wits about him, Ethan pulled his police radio and flipped a switch to megaphone. Holding it to his mouth, he stated in his most authoritative tone, "Everyone, sit down right where you are now. Right now, drop your butts to the pavement or street and sit. Now, people!" Many complied, but a few were staggering around in a daze. "Don't make me tell you twice. Sit. Down." He strode forwards with authority and strength. When he came up to a man who looked at him, utter confusion in his eyes, Ethan pointed to the ground and said, "Right here; you can sit right here."
The man nodded and dropped down.
Lopez as well as two additional officers were walking around, helping people to the ground.
Ethan walked up to one of them and said, "Officer…" he glanced at the name badge, "Williams; we heard a ten-seven-one call. Where?"
The officer pointed back to the building.
Ethan glanced around and saw Lopez looking in his direction. Ethan jerked his head to the building, and Lopez jogged inside.
Ethan flipped the switch on his radio back to the police band and said, "Dispatch. Emergency triage needed at 2023 Richmond Avenue downtown; Viceroy's Cabaret. That's 2023 Richmond Avenue; Viceroy's Cabaret."
"Roger that. Ambulances?"
Ethan assessed the crowd. As far as he could see, it didn't look like a trip to the hospital would be needed for the patrons. But there was a wounded officer inside. "One for now."
"Roger," Dispatch stated. "Stand by."
Walking over to another group of aimlessly milling people, Ethan gently but firmly took various arms and helped people sit down. He saw the familiar face of one of his vice officers. "Cavelli, run inside and see about tape, bandages and aspirin. If they've got rubbing alcohol, get that. If not, whiskey will do.
Cavelli gave his captain a small smile, turned and hurried inside.
Ethan began assessing the injuries of the over a hundred people sitting in the street or on the sidewalk. There were broken noses, the promise of black eyes, bloody noses and cuts and bruises a plenty. Broken arms, knife wounds and dislocated shoulders were smattered here and there.
Lopez walked up and said quietly, "We got two officers out here that appear as dazed as the people here. Whatever's been happening in this city, in there…" he jerked his head toward the Cabaret, "it affected them as well."
"Take them both inside," Ethan murmured. "As much as they're able, have them report on what happened here. Maybe we can get some decent info on what's going on."
"Think it might be some sort of chemical warfare?"
Ethan met Lopez's warm, serious brown eyes. "Let's hope not."
Lopez studied Ethan for a moment, then nodded and walked away.
People seated on the ground were now starting to turn and help one another, either grabbing for shirts to stymie the flow of blood, or reaching for bandages as Cavelli made the rounds with the first aide supplies. The sound of tires had Ethan turning to see a Paramedic Truck pulling in front of his police vehicle. Immediately he jogged over and started helping set up the triage site.
When the crowd was beginning to get help, he finally went inside Viceroy's Cabaret. Aside from the room dimensions, the place was unrecognizable from the low-lit shady dance club of former recollection. The recessed overhead lights, usually only on when the cleaning crew came, revealed broken tables and chairs, a lopsided stage, velvet red ropes strewn across the floor, shredded drapes and glass shards everywhere.
Lopez walked over. "We got an officer with a knife wound in the shoulder."
Ethan nodded and followed Lopez over to the fallen man. Bending over, he said, "You hangin' in there?"
Officer Bonner nodded. "Be better soon as this pig sticker is outta my shoulder, Cap."
Ethan chuckled. Bending over, he helped the officer to his feet. "Then let's get it done. There's an ambulance outside." He nodded to the other two officers. "Take him outside and help the other officers triage the crowd. I'll be out in a minute."
The two officers came forward and steadied Bonner and they walked outside.
Lopez watched the trio leave. "Those two responded to the first ten-thirty-two. Said there were a few patrons fighting, but the rest looked to be going about their business. They said the moment they'd cuffed the rabble rousers, the rest suddenly started getting ugly. That's when they called for backup."
Ethan eyed the gaudy glasswork high on the wall that hid the observation rooms. "Anyone have time to secure the surveillance videos?"
"After I checked on Bonner, I jogged up there and locked the doors. We can check it out now, if you want."
"I'll check it. Call in and see if Jacks is still in the squad room. If she is, have her come over and copy the files. Then oversee outside, coordinate the officers and have them get as many accounts of what happened as possible. Then get emergency management on the phone, see about opening the Convention Center on Avenida De Las Americas now. There are emergency supplies there; cots, water, medical supplies. I'd like everyone's blood drawn, see if we can figure out what's causing this."
Lopez nodded and started for the door. Suddenly, he stopped. "Why did everyone stop?" Turning, he looked at Ethan, his eyes worried and confused. "They just stopped, like they woke up."
"Yeah, I know."
"It's like they were hypnotized or something. Captain, what's happening?"
"I don't know. Maybe the surveillance will give us a clue, maybe the blood analyses will."
"Yeah, maybe," Lopez said slowly. Turning, he disappeared out the door.
Ethan stood for a minute or two, considering his squad and what he needed to do to keep them together and assured that they were more than up for the task of keeping order. Lopez's question showed an undercurrent of anxiety he hadn't realized was permeating his division. As a hunter, he was used to the unknown. His team wasn't. In law enforcement there were techniques and procedures to deal with almost any situation, even methodology for dealing with the unexpected. But what was happening now in the city was unprecedented, and it was creating an undercurrent of unease, and he needed to address it immediately.
With a sigh, he turned and went to the staircase behind the bar and up to the observation room. Lopez had locked the door. Pulling his cell from his pocket, he hit speed dial nine.
"What," groused a rough, deep voice.
"Judge, I need an expedited search warrant."
Judge Marshall Young sighed. With the city in turmoil, he hadn't gotten much sleep in the past … he couldn't remember how long. Tonight was the first night in ten days that he'd gotten in bed before eleven, and now he was on the phone with one of the city's leading Captains. He knew Ethan Matthews was probably more tired than he was, so he pushed civility into his voice and said, "Low down."
"Unexplained riot and brawl at Viceroy's Cabaret. Over a hundred combatants now subdued outside. Officer José Lopez secured the observation room. I want a warrant to go in and check the surveillance."
Judge Young read between the lines. "This is another outbreak, isn't it?"
"Yeah. But this one was different." Ethan broke off, trying to make sense of what he'd seen.
"Ethan, tell me."
Ethan sighed. "The violence was all out. We used the LRAD and it did nothing, we used tear gas and nothing. I was just about to deploy the sleeping gas when it just stopped."
"What do you mean, stopped?"
"I'm mean all violence stopped; completely," Ethan confirmed. "Everyone is staring around at one another, looking confused as to why they're even there." He shook his head, though obviously Marshall Young couldn't see. "Anyway, this is one of the first places where violence has erupted that has top notch surveillance equipment. I hope our computer expert Emma Jacks can help us figure out what happened."
"Then stand by for a copy of the warrant. Since this madness started, I keep blank copies in my library," Marshall stated. "I'll text you a copy and fax one over to the Staff Inspector, the Duty Commissioner, and the DA's Office."
"Thanks," Ethan murmured.
After a moment, Marshall said, "You sound exhausted, Ethan. When did you last sleep?"
Ethan smiled. "I don't remember."
"Get some. You won't be doing anyone any good if you run yourself into the ground."
After a moment, Ethan said, "I … think it's over."
There was a startled pause before Marshall said, "What?"
"I don't know why or how, but I think it's over. When everyone just stopped… It was like an ending."
"An ending," Marshall said slowly. "Your gut telling you that?"
"Yeah, I think it is."
Another silence followed. Finally, Marshall said, "You've got the best street instincts I've ever seen in the field. I pray you're right. Give me two minutes."
Ethan stared at his phone, then sagged back against the wall outside the Cabaret surveillance room. When he'd said that it was over, it had just come out, from his gut. But now that the words were out there, he knew it was true. Whatever weirdness had hit Houston, it was done and gone. Eyeing his phone, he noted the time was just after midnight. Not late enough to stop his call, truth be told. But the recipient wouldn't be pleased. Hitting speed dial one, he waited until a sleepy voice answered before he said, "Eli, we need to talk."
TBC
NOTE: Thank you for reading this first chapter of The Chaos Tree! Any comments and reviews would be appreciated.
This story will contain some different languages. I used Google Translation to get the right verbiage with most of the languages. Some were very ancient, so I did the best I could. For those who read Latin, getting the verbiage and word order correct was difficult, so I apologize right up front for the gobbledygook! But I've included the English for every language. So please enjoy the historical authentic intent of including the languages and ignore the errors!