A/N: Thank you for all the reads!
Sorry I took so long! Work piled up xD
Horatio, Mac and their respective CSIs (c) CBS, Daikonran and Secondet (c) my sister
12, Materialism
There wasn't a single firework in the entire ritual, quite contrary to what Hollywood portrayed. Inside Ryan was disappointed but beggars can't be choosers as their last raid of that night started abruptly. Heading to the cramped backyard, the scent of flesh decomposing permeated provided by the headless chickens strewn all over the floor.
It was a common sacrifice in the reanimation ritual, the older the corpse the bigger the animal. Daikonran and Sheldon Hawkes back in New York had both shared in the misfortune of watching a man die to bring back a Renaissance man. From this he deduced that the victim had to be recent for just a couple of chickens.
In Ryan's breast pocket was a list of every victim Otis ever laid his hands on, those crossed out in pen were listed as Tammy's merchandise. The ones in green highlighter were those who were missing from their last resting place. Only one crossed the geographic boundaries over in the Hispanic cemetery, Consuelo Mercadez. The parallels between the little girl and his own daughter were more than enough reason for Kino to look for the premises.
"You sure you can take it?" the former bounty hunter smirked. "Whoever this Doña Socorro is, she knows we're on to her."
Ryan responded sarcastically before announcing the department's presence, "I've always dreamed of living out a Romero film."
"Lovely."
The Hummer raced against the rising Miami sun, Taylor holding tight to the precious handle bars for dear life. Horatio's erratic driving had a purpose, to spot the servant that attempted their assassination. No matter if it had been Speed, Marisol or Mother Theresa of Calcutta that had done it, Caine had to catch him and prosecute him for a federal offense. Screw that, he thought; it was still Speed. And by the look on his dead eyes, the lieutenant could tell that he wasn't acting on his free will.
The ride hastily made a stop to the main plaza. Both got out, and headed for the center.
"You're a demon, right?" Horatio asked under his breath. He kept a lookout, it was still slightly dark enough to get ambushed by just about anything up to this point; humans, zombies, vamps or lycanthropes could simply pick them bone clean since they stuck out like targets.
"Partially but why?" Mac responded, still a bit confounded on how a Hummer that size could lift off two feet in the air and still land perfectly on the causeway.
"Then you must be able to pick out the dead from the living."
Untold words were traded and Mac understood. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. In his mind, preternatural receptors switched on and a rather fuzzy image came into Taylor's mind. He reopened his eyes, now a sickly amber gold color with his irises tinted red; all those who had their own heartbeats were dyed in a shocking pink whilst those who were dearly departed were of a green variety. Horatio simply observed as the Yankee picked out the undead from the blooming morning rush while the commuters and the transportation buses arrived.
"We got ten of the undead here. And a couple more on the C bus over there. Anyone could be the suspect." Mac calculatingly stated, pointing said vehicle, his eyes darting to each of the marked individuals.
"But only one can have GSR, now does he?"
Frank entered the building just to be met with an exhausted Calleigh Duquesne. She was just about to rest while Delko obtained Glencoe's statement.
"Well you look like shit." Tripp chided humorously.
"You try tracking down a necrophile at 4 am. We got whoever bought the victim last. Found out she had an extensive clientele list." The ballistics expert sighed relieved that they were just minutes away from closing the case. The cafeteria television flipped on with the traditional morning news jingle.
"We'll be on the morning news today." Frank recalled, the magnitude of the escape setting in on the blossoming lights of the South Florida sky.
"And Erica Sykes will be outside, expecting a full story." Calleigh added, rubbing her forehead. "This is going to be a long day."
With the last strokes of the pen, Ferrer Glencoe signed his written confession to a sleep-deprived Eric Delko. As normal CSI procedure, he went on to read for any inconsistencies. And did he ever find one when he got to the first few sentences.
"…Do you understand now?" the accountant asked shamefully. Eric looked at the man with a flabbergasted stare and continued to read on.
"You bought her to gain your boss's confidence?!"
Glencoe exhaled profoundly and peered to the outside. "Felicity was taken way too soon and he wanted to repent for the time lost." He spotted Delko's confusion and sat up straight. He knew he was about to bring down Felicity's father and the company's reputation but those missing dollars were bound to wreak havoc.
Just as Horatio suspected, out of the seventeen zombies in the plaza area, only one had fresh gunshot residue all over him, in Mac's eyes, tinting him with fluorescent blue spots. Out of spite, the target was hidden behind a distanced dumpster, alongside some homeless people.
When they arrived at the spot, Mac could tell why the suspect had chosen the spot as the putrid smells burned the air. The suspect, acting on pure instinct, grabbed one of the dead men's whiskeys and smashed it cleanly on the metal box. He then held it up in a defensive stance, Mac's gun hovering over his head.
"Drop the bottle and you can go back to being worm food." Taylor growled, his eerie eyes looking down upon the frightened creature.
Daikonran and Ryan stormed into the residence to be met with a most decayed welcoming committee; adult bodies strewn to dry like meat, parts scattered and held like hams and worst of all, discarded doll attempts littered the ground. Kino could estimate roughly eight girls had been used in the macabre experiment.
Ryan, on the other hand, was barren of all common sense; this was a scene that he could scarcely comprehend. He sprinted to the backyard, to either apprehend the reanimator or to escape the sights now etched into his mind. Without much direction, Wolfe found himself in the main hall, just as the reanimator concluded the ritual.
Ryan landed flat on his ass; the thing lying on the floor was staring back. His fear bounced vainly against the ravenous hunger as the makeshift human seized his leg bone and dragged him towards its mouth.
Holy shit…
He unloaded his gun on the crude individual and in a split moment, slipped out of its starving embrace. His victory was short-lived; the reanimator spontaneously grabbed him by the scalp and placed a knife to his throat. Daikonran had heard the shots and confronted the madam. One glimpse into her mind and Kino perceived a woman just trying to earn an honest living; granted raising the dead was an unorthodox way to go at it.
"¿Usted es un federal?" she asked frantically, the blade now razing the crime scene investigator's windpipe.
"No, pero por favor suelte a mi compañero."
Glencoe's eyes never left the floor as he proceeded to tell his story.
"You see, the day Felicity was murdered, she wasn't with her mother. She was with her nanny."
Delko remembered that intimate fact; the nanny got the full brunt of the punishment for neglectful childcare. "I take it that Felicity never had a father figure."
"Her parents were so disconsolate and resentful of losing their only daughter. The mother committed suicide shortly after you guys discovered the body with the others, hung herself. The father had to stick around, he had to carry on the company." The accountant added, his depression evident. "They blamed each other for not being there…"
"And how did you know about Tammy's services?"
A sarcastic smirk slipped out as Ferrer continued, "Head of Banking, the geriatric bastard mentioned her and how his young date was the best thing that ever happened. We were losing so many profitable offers so I decided to contact Mrs. Henderson."
There was a look in Ferrer's eyes, a foreboding look that made him appear prepared for whatever Eric spat out next. "Mr. Glencoe, you participated in an illicit service. You thought there weren't going to be consequences?"
"She seemed so lifelike, she didn't look like she had been dead for more than three years. Her father was in high spirits; playing with her, caring for her. " the accountant continued, his gaze melancholic. "He wasn't about to let go of her. He followed her routes, tracked her clients, the works."
Eric then pieced together what he assumed actually happened in the St. Lucia Inn just three days prior;
Mr. Glencoe probably announced to Mr. Thompson that his contract with Felicity was almost over. After a couple of weeks of stalking his daughter, Mr. Thompson took a chance and followed her to the inn in the dead of night.
"When does Mr. Thompson come to work?" Delko inquired, his head heavy from lack of sleep and exhaustion.
"Seven A.M.. Please go easy on him; he's still a grieving father."
Horatio placed his left hand on Taylor's gun, stopping the firing mechanism. He then extended his remaining hand to the trembling undead. His blue eyes spoke a thousand words as his offer of a peaceful retreat set into Speedle's mind.
"Speed, we can do this the easy way. We can catch who did this to you."
The uncertainty was evident as the servant wavered in his stance. After a moment of silence, Speed's voice quivered,
"Can you?"
The subsequent smile in Horatio's expression released a floodgate of memoirs while he replied,
"I'll try."
A/N: So how was it? Reviews are always appreacited