Level 26: Dark Origins

Excerpt

His focus had returned when the agent saw the most recent victim, just a few blocks away. The sight of the blood, the torn skin, the viscera steaming in the cool night air, and the marbled beads of fat hanging from exposed muscles would later send the first responders outside to vomit. Not the agent, who had knelt down and felt a thrilling burst of adrenaline when he touched the body through the thick latex of his examiner's gloves and realized it was still warm.

It meant the monster was nearby.

The agent knew he wouldn't have gone far; the monster loved to hide himself and enjoy the aftermath of his work. He had even been known to secret himself within the scene while law enforcement cursed his name.

So the agent had stepped into the small courtyard near the victim's body and let his mind wander. No deductive logic, no reasoned guesses, no gut, no hunch. Instead the agent thought: I am the monster; where do I go?

The agent had scanned the rooftops, then saw the glittering dome and knew immediately. There. I'd go there. There was not a seed of doubt in the agent's mind. This would end tonight.

Now he was moving silently among the wooden pews and the metal poles of the scaffolding, gun drawn, all of his physical senses on high alert. The monster might be smoke, but even smoke had a look, a scent, a taste.

The monster stared down at the top of his hunter's head. He was positioned on the underside of a paint-splattered wooden plank, clinging to the gaps between the wood with his skinny, strong fingers and equally powerful toes
.

He almost wanted his hunter to look up.

Many had chased the monster over the years, but none like this one. This one was special. Different.

And somehow, familiar.

So the monster wanted to look at his face again, in the flesh. Not that he didn't know what his hunters looked like. The monster had plenty of surveillance photos and footage of all of them-at work, in their backyards, on the way to fill their vehicles with gasoline, bringing their children to sporting matches, and purchasing bottles of liquor. He'd been close enough to catalog their smells, the aftershave they wore, the brand of tequila they drank. It was a part of his game.

Until recently he'd thought this one was merely average. But then the man had begun to surprise the monster, making leaps no one ever had before, coming closer than anyone else. Close enough that the monster had let the other hunters fall away, focusing in on the one photo he had of this one, staring at it and trying to imagine where his weakness lay. But a photograph wasn't the same as real life. The monster wanted to study this one's face while he still tasted the air, gazed at his surroundings, drew its smells into his nostrils
.
And then the monster would slay him.

-From the book, Level 26: Dark Origins