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  Night Kill

  ( Private Investigator Andrew Knight Mystery Series - 1 )

  R. L. Edinger

  R. L. Edinger

  Night Kill

  Chapter 1

  The shimmering moonlight danced across the fields of white which were etched with black shadows of forest trees. The cold winter night lay still with nary a breath of wind, or sounds from the forest creatures.

  A dark manor at the end of the long, winding road, quietly nestled, seeming snug and warm, waited for those who had been invited to come safely inside.

  Natasha, and her husband Jonathan, were putting the finishing touches on their dining room table. While Jonathan arranged the place settings, Natasha lit the candles and dimmed the lights. Tonight they were celebrating the winter solstice. Soon their guests would arrive to partake of the rituals set forth by the clan. It would be a celebration for both kindred and those whose life blood was freely offered for the taking.

  The doorbell interrupted as it announced the first guest to arrive. Natasha told her husband she would get it and that he should finish with the settings. She excused herself and left the dining room to go answer the door.

  Natasha brushed aside the tussles of her long, flowing auburn hair. She paused briefly in front of the hall mirror to check her looks. Satisfied, Natasha walked up to the door, and grasped hold of the knob. She flung it open with dramatic flair, though not necessary, but it was just her way.

  A lone, hooded figure greeted her with silence. Sadly, Natasha never had time to ask who they were, or to react. A single sharpened wood arrow ravageously pierced her body. Natasha stumbled back a bit, but was able to catch herself against the wall. The hooded figure had already loaded a second arrow in the crossbow. Natasha was about to cry out, but the second arrow struck next to the first! The force of the blow sent Natasha crashing into the hallway table.

  Jonathan heard the crash, and immediately flew out from the dining room and into the hallway. He saw his beloved lying amongst the splintered, broken wood and remnants of a shattered vase. He rushed to her side, knelt down, and drew her close to him in his arms. Jonathan’s mind screamed as he gazed upon the lifeless, bloody face of his wife. He howled out his agony at seeing the twin arrow shafts protruding from Natasha. Jonathan gently laid Natasha back down whilst he brushed her lips with one last kiss. Suddenly Jonathan caught a glimpse of something moving in the shadows of the front porch. He stood and turned to face the shadowy figure.

  Jonathan took a step towards the shadow. He saw that the person wore a hood.

  “Coward,” Jonathan hissed. “You murdered my wife. Why do you hide your face from me? Let me see who you are, so that when I kill you I will see death on your face.”

  Jonathan exploded at the person, who at the same time reached beneath their long, black leather overcoat. Jonathan felt the sharpened points of the three throwing stars strike his chest. He torn them away and kept going. The hooded figure leapt into the air and with a round house spin kick, slammed a boot heel into Jonathan, whom tumbled to the snowy ground. Jonathan stood defiantly and spat blood from his mouth to the ground.

  “Do you think you’re fast and strong enough?” Jonathan cursed. “Or smart enough to take on me and not some poor defenseless woman?”

  Jonathan charged again and lunged into the air; however, the hooded figure was ready and leapt again, this time drawing two blades of sharpened steel. As both came together in a mid-air death dance, Jonathan winched as the blades struck him without regard in the chest, back and neck. Jonathan plummeted back to the snowy ground in a heap. The hooded figure instead landed back down without as much as a sound.

  Jonathan rose to his knees and looked up at the hooded figure. He brushed aside his blood-matted golden hair. Jonathan felt his life ebbing away. The hooded figure stood in front of Jonathan forming an ‘X’ with his two swords.

  “Let me see your face,” Jonathan coughed.

  The hooded figure took the two swords in one hand and with the other removed the hood. Jonathan’s eyes drew open wide and before he could utter a word, the hooded figure struck!

  Peter was in the kitchen finishing up with the tray of appetisers. He was listening to his favorite tunes on his Ipod. He liked to pump up the volume. Oh sure his parents complained that he was ruining his hearing, but he didn’t care. His mother told him to have plenty of nourishment for the blood partners. Peter was glad that the rest of the clan was going to be here tonight. The winter solstice was the one gathering that he looked forward to every year, unlike his sister.

  Peter walked from the kitchen into the dining room. His parents weren’t there. Where could they be? Peter tuned off his Ipod and removed the ear buds. That’s when Peter heard his father shouting at someone. Peter put down the tray and sprinted out into the hallway.

  “Mother!” Peter cried out. He rushed to her and knelt at her side. “What the hell?” he was shocked upon seeing the arrow shafts. She felt so cold to the touch. Peter trembled as the realization of his mother being dead finally hit home. Peter lay her back down and continued outside. Just as Peter stepped onto the porch, he saw his father hit the ground. A darkened figure stood with his back to Peter. He heard his father ask to see the person’s face, which they did. Peter watched in horror as the figure replaced the hood and without remorse, killed Jonathan. “No!” Peter bellowed. He flashed his fangs and tore off in the figure’s direction.

  Peter hadn’t gotten far when the first throwing star slammed into his neck. He stumbled to his knees, but quickly recovered. Peter went on, but was hit with two more throwing stars with lethal force in his chest. Peter flashed his fangs and ripped them out. He crouched down and sprang forth. Peter did a forward hand flip and with both boots drove the figure to the ground. Peter instantly spun around and grabbed the figure by the collar. His eyes reflected the rage in his soul. Peter threw the figure against the tree not far from them. Peter retrieved one of the swords as the figure dropped.

  “Nice blade,” Peter said running his finger tips across the unsharpened surface. “Its now time for you to die.” The hooded figure had loaded his crossbow while Peter was preoccupied admiring the sword. Peter raised the blade and rushed to strike, but was hit instead with the arrow. Peter dropped the sword as the arrow perforated the flesh of his chest. Peter tumbled face down in the snow, driving the arrow further in.

  The hooded figure rose and walked over to where Peter lay, and bent down to retrieve the sword. There was one more left.

  Storm was chilling out in her bedroom. The music from her boom box was blaring and she chatted away on her laptop. Her parents complained all the time that she could never hear them or what was going on downstairs in the house. She thought it was best to stay out of the way as her parents made preparations for the winter solstice. Like the rest of the coven, to her parents this was a really big deal. She on the other hand, wasn’t as traditional as the rest of the clan.

  Storm noticed the time on her laptop screen. It was nearly 9:30 p.m. The rest of the clan and the blood dolls would be arriving soon. She did wonder though why her mom hadn’t come up to get her. Her mom was very strict about being there when the rest of the clan arrived. So, Storm shut down and put away her laptop on her night stand. She bounded of the bed and over to the boom box which was on her desk by the wall across from the door. Her back was to the door when she heard it open. Not bothering to turn around Storm just said, “Yes, I know mother.” Storm jerked and felt an uncomfortable pressure from her chest. The force from the pressure slammed her against the wall. Storm couldn’t speak as she collapsed backwards. Storm heard a sound like when you snap a twig, and everything went black.

  Storm awoke to the sound of her heart beating in her ears. She tried to sta
nd, but was too weak. She looked at the front of her blouse and noticed the strangest thing. A wooden tip was protruding out. Storm started gasping for air, but only blood spittle flew from her mouth. She couldn’t call out for help. Tears rolled down her cheeks smearing the dark eyeliner she wore. With every bit of strength she had, Storm lay down and pulled herself towards the door.

  Storm took a short break when she reached the open doorway of her room. When she looked back, Storm saw a trail of blood. She didn’t have time to panic; she needed to find her parents. With new found strength, Storm made her way to the stairs. How would she get down now? Since the arrow tip was in front, Storm decided to lie on her back and slide down the carpeted stairs. She would use the banister posts to hold onto. Storm died a little more inside and the pain nearly caused her to black out, but she managed to roll on her back. With only the strength in her arms and hands to help, Storm started her painful trek down the stairs. “Keep going,” Storm spoke words of encouragement that only she could hear. She strained with all her being to keep from sliding down unchecked, which meant certain death. For what seemed like hours, even a day, Storm finally came to rest leaning against the last step!

  Her heart was beating slower now and Storm rested for a little. The hallway was dark except for the moonlight peaking inside with very little light. Storm saw a dark, huddled mass lying motionless in a broken pile of the hallway table. She sniffed back the tears and started to drag herself towards it.

  When Storm reached the broken table and shadowy mass, she saw that it was her mother. With hardly any breath left and unable to cry out loud, Storm still wept. She pulled herself up closer to her mother. Storm saw the arrows and her mother’s blood stained face. What kind of monster could do this? They had done nothing wrong to deserve this kind of pain. Storm grimaced as she bent down and kissed her mother goodbye. Storm knew she needed to get help. She touched her mother’s cheek one last time and started to crawl towards the open front door.

  The night air was bitterly cold and it made her shiver. Storm scooted this time down the front porch steps. That’s when she saw her father. He was dead. The snow was stained with his blood. Storm crawled to him and when she got there, laid her head on his chest. His body was cold and his life-force gone. Storm grieved knowing that only the shell of the man she knew as her father remained. Storm felt weaker now, but she had to continue on. She searched the darkness around looking for any hope. Storm saw car lights winding their way up the driveway. She could relax now and feel at peace. Storm lay back on the cold, snowy ground. She couldn’t feel any of it at all, but a thin smile of satisfaction drew across her face. Storm closed her eyes.

  There was no more shimmering moonlight, but instead a sea of red and blue flashing lights. The stillness of the cold winter night had been broken by approaching sirens.

  A dark colored sedan came to a sudden stop once it had reached the end of the driveway. Its lone occupant jumped out with flashlight in hand.

  Sheriff Delsmann ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. Feeling chilled, she zipped up her blue parka.

  “What have we got here,” she asked while taking in the overall horrific scene.

  “Two male victims,” the CSI technician answered. He pointed in the direction of the house. “There is a female victim in the hallway. The fourth, a teenage girl, has already been transported to Bayport Memorial. She’s stable but in critical condition.”

  Sheriff Delsmann knelt down next to the technician. In all her years as a detective in Chicago, she had never seen anything this horrible.

  “The first victim is a male in his late forties,” the technician said. “He has slash wounds on the chest, back and neck. It appears they may have been caused by sword of some type. He also had some puncture wounds from those throwing stars we found on the ground.”

  Sheriff Delsmann stood up and walked over to the younger male victim. The technician joined her. They knelt down again.

  “This victim is in his teens,” the technician said.

  Sheriff Delsmann grasped hold of the boy’s shoulder and carefully rolled him over.

  “What the hell is going on here?” she gasped upon seeing the arrow in the boy’s chest.

  “There’s more,” the technician said. With his gloved hand he lifted the boy’s top lip.

  “Fangs?” Sheriff Delsmann said.

  “All four victims have vampire fangs,” the technician explained.

  “You said the older female victim is in the house,” Sheriff Delsmann answered.

  “Yes,” the technician replied.

  “Make sure you get everything we need,” Sheriff Delsmann ordered. She rose to her feet and immediately headed for the house.

  Sheriff Delsmann walked up the front porch steps and into the house. Another CSI technician was collecting evidence in the hallway. Sheriff Delsmann saw that the female victim had two arrow shafts protruding from her chest and was lying amongst a broken table and vase. Sheriff Delsmann continued on down the hallway and up the stairs. She walked into the daughter’s bedroom. A third technician was collecting evidence from the area next to the bed. He was bagging splintered pieces of an arrow shaft.

  “What have you found thus far?” she asked.

  “Just these broken pieces of arrow and this blood stain on the carpet,” he replied.

  “Is this where they found the daughter?” Sheriff Delsmann asked.

  “No,” he replied, marking the evidence bag. “She was found outside next to her father and brother.”

  “She managed to get outside after being shot!” she exclaimed.

  “It appears she dragged herself,” he answered. “There’s trace evidence on the stair railings and carpeting there.”

  “Just make sure you go through the room thoroughly,” Sheriff Delsmann said. She left the room and headed back down stairs.

  When Sheriff Delsmann walked down the steps, she stopped briefly to examine the blood stains on the railings. She had a sense of admiration at how brave and determined the wounded girl had been in her trek to get help for her family. Sheriff Delsmann continued down to the first floor and entered the dining room.

  An eerie feeling came over Sheriff Delsmann when she saw the empty chairs surrounding the elegantly decorated dining room table. The silverware was still wrapped lovingly in white linen clothes. The bone china and crystal glassware stood in patient silence waiting to be used by guests that would never arrive. A sense of sadness washed over Sheriff Delsmann as she took in the hopeless and despair in the room. There were no signs of the killer being in this room. She moved into the kitchen.

  Just like the dining room, there were no signs of the killer being in here. Sheriff Delsmann opened the refrigerator. There were several food trays ready to serve. Bottles of wine had been placed in the cooler, chilling to perfection but none would ever be opened and consumed. She closed the refrigerator door and walked to the oven. Sheriff Delsmann opened the oven door and could see the carefully prepared roast and potatoes that were now just a dried out mass of muddy colors. Sheriff Delsmann closed the oven door and left the kitchen to go outside again.

  As Sheriff Delsmann stood on the porch she surveyed the area in front of the house. She flipped on the flashlight and walked down the steps. Sheriff Delsmann walked slowly around the exterior of the house. She was looking for clues. The only footsteps thus far were her own. When Sheriff Delsmann got to the back of the house she noticed a back door. As she walked up to it, Sheriff Delsmann saw boot prints in the snow. With her flashlight, Sheriff Delsmann followed the boot prints until they disappeared at the edge of the surrounding woods.

  “Send a deputy to the back of the house,” Sheriff Delsmann spoke into her radio.

  A few minutes later, a deputy joined her. Together they took off in the direction of where the boot prints were headed.

  Sheriff Delsmann and the deputy drew their weapons and stepped into the dense woods. Slowly and painstakingly, they traversed through the forest thicket. Sheriff Delsmann felt
her heart beating wildly in her chest. She didn’t really like the darkness nor the fact that at any given moment something or someone would jump out at them. It was never like this back in Chicago. Even with all the things she’d seen working as a detective on third shift, it still wasn’t as white knuckled as right now.

  The boot trail eventually led them to a road about a mile from the house. The road was smooth and showed no signs for tire tracks. If they had a vehicle waiting here, there was no way to know what kind it was, or even how long it had been here.

  “Let’s head back,” she ordered. Somewhere in the blackness of the woods a tree branch snapped. The sound echoed throughout the quietness. Instantly both of them realized they weren’t alone. “Douse the lights,” Sheriff Delsmann hissed. Sheriff Delsmann and the deputy killed the lights and crouched down behind the snow embankment. They waited in complete silence. The only light was from the moon directly above them. Once her eyes were adjusted to the darkness, Sheriff Delsmann could make out the silhouettes of the trees intermixed with the moonlight. At first she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, but Sheriff Delsmann swore one of the trees was moving.

  A few yards away, a shadowy figure strode confidently from the woods and onto the road. Sheriff Delsmann and the deputy crouched down further as the shadow looked in their direction. Neither Sheriff Delsmann nor the deputy moved. Apparently satisfied, the shadowy figure started walking down the road.

  “We need to get this guy,” Sheriff Delsmann whispered.

  “But we don’t have backup,” the deputy protested.

  “We’re both armed,” Sheriff Delsmann said. “Plus we have the element of surprise.”

  “Yes M’mam,” the deputy answered.

  “We go on three,” Sheriff Delsmann said clicking off the safety of her weapon. The deputy did the same. “One, two, three,” Sheriff Delsmann counted. Slowly, cautiously, they rose to their feet and took off after the shadowy figure.