The three remaining hunters were in the office standing in front of Grace's desk, her sitting down, papers laid out, the ones that Russell brought back mixed in.
They were trying to figure out the connection of everything and if the book that the cult was after was truly a Necronomicon. From what they gathered, the main ones were still locked up on opposite sides of the world. So that left two options, the book they were after was a new manifestation of a Necronomicon, or it was an entirely new vessel of Magick all together.
In the case of the latter, that was the worst one. Since the Necronomicon's existed as a vessel for all old gods. The book wasn't tailored to a singular entity. Which meant when one of them granted use of their Magick through it. The Magick was on the weaker side since it conflicted with the other gods. But when a book manifests that isn't attached to those books, it takes on the will of one god. Allowing them to put more Magick into it when called on. And a book harnessing the sole power of a god. Well, that spells doom for everything in the immediate vicinity.
"Well we're in a real shit show," Grace said aloud, the first thing said since the start of the meeting, when she called them all in. A hand was placed on the papers, scooting them forward so they could all get a look.
"We know something of high value was on the train which was kept off record. We know that someone was after Edward, likely the cult, but why they would want him dead, we can only guess. And amidst all of that, they were looking for something." She leaned back in her chair, clearly stressed over all of this.
Not only was one of her people missing, but she had no clues of where to find him or where to start looking.
Not to say they didn't know where the Harbingers were stationed, or rather. They had a guess where they were stationed. But that sort of move, with only four of them against what was practically an army of fanatic followers. Would be a death gamble.
"Jayla. Do you still have connections with the black markets and underworld?" Grace asked, her full attention turning to her, which left a pleasantly surprised expression on Jayla's face. "Yeah, I do. Want me to see if they know anything?"
Grace brought a hand to her face, fingers rubbing the sides of her nose. "Yeah." She wasn't too pleased about having to use means like that, since anyone involved in the black market was the scum of the earth human beings. But they were left with little choice.
"Make sure to look for any new chatter of high-value items, books...People." She didn't want it to be the case. But Edward's abduction could have very much well been to sell him off. He was a rare specimen, even to the standards of this warped world.
With that, Jayla made her way out, now set on the task she was given.
Grace's attention turned to the other two. "Has there been any activity from the cult? Anything out of place?" Adam looked at Russell briefly, before going back to Grace. "There was chatter on police radios. A port was hit. Corpses left mutilated with no evidence of who did it or how."
Grace took in a deep breath, she wanted to send both Russell and Adam to be safe. But they were already low on people and to have the most range, everyone had to be doing something to contribute. "Can you handle it?" She asked in a serious tone, wanting to make sure that Adam understood no help would come if he was attacked.
Adam nodded with a confident attitude, speaking with the same moxie that he displayed. "I can handle it." She lowered her head with her eyes closed, she had no choice but to send him off. Giving him a nod that let him know to head out.
That left only the two of them in the room, Grace's unease polluting the air. "Edward's fine. We both know that." Russell said calmly, trying to settle down her emotions. In response, she drove her clenched hand into the desk, eyes glaring at him with frustrated worry. "Don't act like he is when we don't know."
Russell's eyes softened, sitting down across from her and leaning forward. "We've never had this happen before and you're scared." She shook her head, slumping in her hand with a dejected expression taking hold. "I'm a leader. I can't feel scared."
"We all feel scared. Our comrade, friend and ally was taken from us. We all worry in some way or another. So don't feel like you have to bottle it all up." He got back up, "There's a building on the edge of the city where some of the cultists go for rituals. I'll see if I can intercept any."
He walked to the door, standing there momentarily, looking back at Grace, a deep-rooted worry etching in his brain; everyone handled and felt things differently. And due to that, he had no idea what she was going through. He could only hope that she was capable of handling it.
Grace was left to her own devices, wondering how to help the situation. There were many channels she could try and look into; there was no way of knowing why the book was taken when the rest of the cargo was untouched or just what this book was.
There were so many questions left unanswered, ones that could help them greatly in this investigation. Her eyes drifted to the phone beside her laptop; there was another option, a less preferred option, but one nonetheless.
Her fingers wrapped around the back of the phone as she put in a phone number. She moved it to her ear, listening to the ringing sound until someone on the other end answered. "When can we meet?" She wasted no time asking.
* * * * *
Adam was standing just outside of the ports, eyeing the police who were guarding the gates. The tape was up to keep people from mistakenly going by if somehow they missed the cars that often signalled something was wrong with their flashing lights of red and blue.
He walked past the vehicles with no care for their presence. He heard the sound of steps closing in; he turned his head, looking at the police who had worry plastered on his face. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, his eyes trying to be assertive to get his point across. "You can't..." He was trying to catch his brief from jogging over with all his equipment. "You can't be here. This is an active crime scene."
He must have been new here; Adam slipped his hand into his pocket, took out his agency ID and presented it, the officer looked over and that worry on his face was replaced with one that was apologetic, bowing his head. "I'm sorry." He pointed in the direction of forensics and the detectives. "The crime scene is that way."
He was about to walk away, stopping himself to ask a question. "Whatever made that scene wasn't human." He paused for a moment. "Do they actually exist?" Adam glanced at the man. The government and branches of the government knew of the existence of the otherworldly creatures. That was why the agency was capable of moving around so freely without a secret.
Because of that in an attempt to limit potential victims to paranormal creatures, information was made public; the old realm was kept secret, as were the old gods themselves. At most all people know is that creatures who have no origin walk the same world as them.
"They exist." Was all Adam gave before he pressed on further into the active crime scene, his hand resting on the handle of his katana which was perched comfortably on his hip.
He had eyes on him from the moment that he was close enough. Forensics avoided him like the plague, keeping their distance while they took the pictures they needed.
As for the two detectives that were assigned to the case, they were left wondering why he was there; he could understand why, it was their job to figure out why a crime happened and who was involved. But when it came to this, they would have gone in circles. And if they somehow got close to the truth, they would have disappeared.
Adam eyed over the scene. Blood and guts were coating the surrounding area; limbs were scattered away from the corpses like they were thrown off to the side during the massacre.
He knelt in the blood, dragging his fingers across it. One of the detectives was about to come over and scold him though he froze when the blood shifted like something just stepped in it, something big.
He backpedalled right away, nearly toppling over his own feet. There was a presence in the air, a presence like no other. It was dreadful, horrific. The feeling was familiar to him, from when he nearly died on an assignment. Death itself felt like it was plucking at his strings.
And it wasn't only him who could feel it. Everyone in the surrounding vicinity could; it was only that some of them could recognize the feeling.
And with time, the morbid thing that caused the feeling started to manifest to them all. It loomed over Adam with cracked joints and bones, its fingers freakishly extended and curled like nails that hadn't been trimmed in decades.
Its mouth was cracked open, a hideous gaping maw forever on its face and the eyes were black holes in its face.
Tarped over its body was a long black cloth which hid most of the 7-foot-tall creature, two long horns extending out of its skull. One of its arms coiled around the side, hand covering his throat; its fingers were easily capable of going around his entire neck, and a cold chill sent down his spine that he knew intimately.
The detectives had drawn their guns, other officers keeping the entrances sealed had no idea what was happening and forensics had completely backed away from him, fearing for their lives.
Adam took a step forward, blood splashing from the impact. He turned to stand face to face with the creature, the abyssal holes of its eyes meeting his serious exterior. "Pay the toll." A ghastly voice spoke through the unmoving mouth, chills running over the men and women that stood around them.
He drew his katana from the sheath with a 'shink' sound made from the metal; the sharp side made contact with his open palm, dragging it across. The crimson that poured from the open wound was pulled from it into the expecting hand of the creature.
When satisfied, it's hand sealed. The cut on Adam's hand had black etches spread out from it, spreading over his entire palm, stopping at the bottom of his fingers and his wrist.
"Five years. Three questions. Ask what you wish."
"What did this?" Adam wanted to confirm it was the cult who did this and not another unknown faction. The creature looked over the area, outstretching a hand as blood was pulled to it in a thick string.
It leaned its head back, lowering the blood into its mouth and consuming it whole. "Harbinger of the gods. Messenger of their wrath. Hunter of Keha." A cultist then, perfect. "Why was he here?"
"A book. Purgatory be thy name. Keha it's vassal." The book from the train. But if the cult was after it, that meant they didn't take it originally.
He had one final question to ask. "What are they going to do with the book?" He wanted to ask about Edward but knew that if he did, it would be pointless.
"Sell the book they will for the most coin provided." It started to lose its physical form, the blood around Adam bubbling hot with some minor pops of bubbles. And then it was gone from their plane of existence.
Adam ran his hand over the side of his blade, pulling blood that clung to the metal back into his palm, the wound sealing shut. "What was that?" He heard, turning to see one of the detectives standing at the edge of the crimson pool.
"A vestige of death." He said coldly, making his way back to the entrance of the port so he could leave, leaving all of them to stand there in confusion, shock and fear at what just happened. He put his phone to his ear, calling Grace so he could relay what he discovered.
* * * * *
In some back alley that had garbage littered about, stains of unknown origin on the floor and walls. Down the alley was a single metal door in the wall. The paint was coming off and the hinges looked rusted but it still held sturdy enough to where breaking in would have been difficult.
On the front, it looked unassuming, like just some roughed-up store that saw better days. The glass of the display windows was cracked at various points with the words "Burke's Liquor Store." Above the entrance and in white text on the glass.
Jayla was standing just outside the store, phone to ear. "Yeah yeah, I got it." She said to the Grace on the other end. "Looking for a book called Purgatory." Her phone hovered over the red hang-up button. "Now let me work." She pressed down and slotted her phone back into her pant pocket.
She stood at the door, hand hovering over the handle. This place was both a blessing and a curse. A hefty intake of air filled her things and she stepped inside.
The door opened with the ringing of a bell. Loud clanking sounds came through the open door that led to the back which was off to the side of the counter. "Just a minute!" A deep gruff voice called from the back.
Jayla stepped up to the counter, her hands in her pockets as she eyed the store's interior. It improved from the last time she came here, even if the bar wasn't high. She could spot cameras placed about, stationed so they could see down the aisles.
The sound of heavy boots approached the door. A tall athletic tanned man with a face cloth over the back of his neck stepped through. His black hair was all over the place in a tattered mess.
The door was shut behind him making his way to the counter so he could help his new customer. He had to be 6'5 with how tall he was, but she never did manage to confirm that. "What can I help you with Ma'am?" He said in the same voice that called out to her, a minor accent noticeable now that he was face-to-face with her.
"You mean to say you don't remember me, you shithead?" She said with a tone that was supposed to be friendly but was littered with fallacy.
His face tensed, veins bulging in his forward. His hands tightened on the glass counter, nails grazing it. He looked like he was just about ready to cave in her skull, to grab her face and smash it into the counter. Her eyes shimmered briefly, a way of telling that her ability was ready.
A look of recognition washed over the man's face, his hands opening as he leaned forward with a bewildered expression. "Jayla? Is that you?" He asked with excitement in his voice, Jayla let out a sigh, collecting back her sombre attitude, hands going back into her pockets. "Yeah, it's me." She admitted with a dejected tone.
"How long has it been?" He asked, either not having noticed the tone or ignoring it so he could with her. "Seven years since we last spoke."
"Right." He said with sadness in his eyes, shaking his head. "Been too long." He looked like he was ready to start asking a boatload of questions, to hound her over everything she's been doing and has done. She cut him off before he got the chance. "Do you still run liquor out the back?"
"The bar?" He asked, surprised she still remembered it. "Yeah, why?" He seemed suspicious of her now, less open and friendly. "Does Vasco still come here?" He jerked back at the name. "Why are you looking for him?" He asked with his serious voice. "You don't want to stir up trouble with him. I hear he runs with that cult, Harbingers of somethin'"
"Old." She corrected him. "And I need to ask him about something being sold."
"Do I even want to know?" He spoke under his breath, asking himself more than he was asking her. He shook his head, planting his hand on the glass, almost hard enough to crack it. "He comes around from time to time, usually with bodyguards." He said wanting to deter her.
That look in her eyes was all he needed as a response, lowering his head with a disappointed exhale. "There's been talk about some new organization called Black Mark. Vasco was supposed to meet with them at a port they owned. Before it was attacked." He seemed jittery, his other hand settling next to the other, leaning forward.
"I don't know where the new meeting is happening. But Vasco's guys do. They're currently in the back and the owner happens to be out here." That was his way of giving her full permission to do what she wanted, so long as his name never came up.
She headed to the back room, closing the door behind her. From a glance, there were only boxes stacked against the walls. She weaved between them, turning her body to avoid the ones in her way. She stood in front of the back wall, running a hand over it and applying pressure.
The section of the wall came free, turning to allow her to walk through the space. When she did, she was assaulted by the odour of alcohol.
This place was just like she remembered, some stingy hole in the wall that low lives came to when they were barred from going elsewhere; the people she was looking for were in a corner booth, drunken laughs filling the space.
She could tell it was them because of their fancy black suits. No one came here wearing something like that unless they were important or attached to someone important so they were treated 'properly.'
She walked over to them, standing in front of their table. One of the men looked at her with a stupid grin on his face. "hey guys. Burke got us a waitress" He said with some slurring to his words, making a point for the other two to direct their attention to her.
She smiled sarcastically, putting a hand on the table and leaning forward. "Where's Vasco?" The deadline for the auction wasn't known so she couldn't afford to be subtle about what she was looking for.
The man clearly thought it was a joke, putting his bottle down with a lean of his own. "He's here. He's there. He's at my apartment." Before a chuckle could even make it past his moronic lips she took him by the hair and slammed his face into the table; his nose bent to the side, blood dripping from his nostrils onto the hardwood.
He didn't feel as much as he would have if he had been sober. But the pain was still present. "Jesus Christ." He said with fury. His eyes locked with the man to his right then left. "Well get her." He yelled at them.
The first man got up, swinging wildly at her which she dodged by leaning back. Her hand clasped the side of his face and drove it into the wall; he dropped like a pile of bricks to the floor, unconscious.
She locked eyes with the second man who looked hesitant to move. They had the numbers advantage but they were drunk and she just knocked one of them out moments into the fight.
He raised his hands above his head and dropped to his knees, having enough sobriety to care about his safety rather than winning an altercation.
For the last guy, well he just had his nose broken, he had his honour to protect. Due to that, he stumbled out from the booth, giving Jayla a chance to take a few steps back from the guy laid out on the ground.
Then he rushed her, nearly stumbling over his feet in the process. She sidestepped him with a foot put forth to trip him. He fell to the floor, his nose smashing a second time with a yelp of pain. He was about to get up before she brought down a boot into the back of his head.
Jayla locked eyes with the last man, walking up to him and grabbing him by the tie. "Vasco. Where is he?" The man's breathing was shaky; he was utterly terrified. "West, no East side of the city. There's this new organization he's meeting in a skyscraper. They own the ports, everything that moves in and out is under their watch."
Jayla gave a slow nod in response, pushing him back into the wall. "Thanks." She said walking to the metal door. She released the latches and headed out, leaving the alleyway and making her way down the street.