The dry scent of saw dust and straw nearly masked the rot. The original victim was female. It was impossible at this stage to say how long she had been deceased, from where she had originated, or whether or not she suffered through the afterlife as a devil's plaything before being abandoned like a doll in a schoolyard.

"Sorry," he said, looking into the hardening jelly of her eyes. He'd been hunting this thing that called itself Zakar across state lines and international borders and dozens of names and occupations, the most recent and accurate incarnation being that of the thing sitting on a necromancer's shoulder.

When Zakar tired of a doll and dropped it, the first impression of the remaining body was that of a dead rat dumped from a watering can- you didn't want to go near it and from stench alone had no reason to check for life. But very often, as the heat of the moment simmered down and action became investigation, the corpse would sharply gasp, sit bolt upright and scream.

Tonight, something was already awakening inside the eyes, crossing that thin boundary between existence and non. The skin of its dead fingers split open, peeling away to reveal dried muscle that clutched weakly at the hem of his pant.

It was dying. She, he added because She at one point had been human. She was more aware than some, did not scream or struggle to force air through lungs no longer meant to swell. She knew what had happened to some extent, he reasoned, and that made her one of the worse cases. There was no killing a spirit like this. It had to leave the body on its own. It had to figure out the exit. He himself wasn't sure how that process occurred, how the person could be there one minute and gone on the next exhale. It was a mystery, and one that scared him some nights when he thought about the things he had killed and the people he had watched die. Knowing everything that was out there, what could possibly reign over it ...

He moved his boot away, apologized again, and on the arm of the couch waited like a vulture for the soul to leave.

Jali had in the meanwhile found her way inside the residence.

"It's clear," Caelan called, knowing he had not checked the rest of the rooms but understanding he did not need to.

Jali shouted back to someone, probably Jorge from the startled- definitely Jorge when he heard he sudden "holy shit, you scared me!" from the hall. The analyst's eyes were nearing dinner plates when he found Caelan a few feet from the dying woman.

"Don't bother," he told the pair of them as the woman managed a weak, garbled rasp. "She's gotta go on her own."

Jorge looked glad and looked away, dropping onto the couch.

The sheriff's deputy, however, was reaching for her gun. "That's cruel," she said, disapproval and anger in the gaze she turned upon her leader. "We need to put it out of its misery."

"That's the curse. You were at Frontier Land and Avon both, Jali. We destroy what we must to stop an attack, but this girl here won't fight. She's looking for the way out. They always find it- and if they don't, the curse wears off and they get there anyway. Won't be much longer."

The girl's hand had stiffened into the shape of a claw. She lifted the shriveled appendage to her yellowed gaze. Her expression hardly moved, jaws open, the dark muscles of her throat struggling to convulse. She vomited up sawdust, straw, and iridescent beetles.

Jali looked tempted to ignore Harlowe's instructions, but she holstered her weapon and studied the floor instead. "Dunno how you can watch her die like that. Die again, I mean. It's fucking sick."

"That's why I know it won't be long," he said. Leaning back, he tapped Jorge's shoulder. When the tech's pale face looked up questioningly, he thumbed past the kitchen.

"Thanks, boss," Jorge said, launching like a rocket toward the downstairs bathroom.

"Don't," Caelan said again, more loudly. Jali, halfway to the floor, froze.

"Why not?"

"Nine times out of ten, you hold her hand or reach down to comfort her and you'll get an ear bitten off or worse. It's a violent whirlwind of emotions, waking at the end like this. Catch the wave at the wrong time and you'll be drawn into the destruction."

Jali stood watching the sheriff's placid expression, but it was only when his shoulders lifted in a 'suit yourself' gesture that she sunk into Jorge's spot. She ran a hand over her pony tail and kept glancing over her shoulder at the groaning woman. 

"You find anything?" Caelan asked.

Jali nodded. "It's difficult to catch a whiff over the more obvious scents, but there's something strange in the air tonight. It smells of iron and electricity, like I'm standing on the edge of train tracks in a thunderstorm. It makes me feel somehow both good and bad. Like, I know the warning signs and I shouldn't be out but there I am anyway underneath black clouds and a green haze and my skin has never felt more alive than when that first raindrop hits."

"Had you entered in Mrs. Finn's home?"

"No. Backup arrived and is busting in now if they haven't already."

"The car wreck?"

"Evidence someone escaped, but couldn't find the body at a cursory glance. Put Feroleto on the job and came straight here. Figured you'd need help if this was the thing that took Miss Davins."

"Have you seen anyone out tonight, anyone or anything not a part of our unit?"

"No, sir."

Caelan drummed his thigh. "Talon Pack escaped into the forest. Doubt Evita will lead them back until daylight. We'll have until then to ensure they'll be safe on return and get ourselves in order. Calico Finn may be missing, but she's also a thief. Evita's moved I'd daresay everything of value, but we may be able to get a sense of the quantity stolen. Report them to me directly."

"Noted," Jali said. "You don't think it's related to thefts?"

"Thank you- and not directly, no, I don't reckon so.  Jali, as much as I hate to ask, what do you smell in this house?"

Jali's nose wrinkled. She made a face, but took several seconds to sniff the air. "Death," she said at last and with a tone of strong relief. Together they regarded the woman. Her hand had dropped into her lap. Her eyes were dark and hard. They waited a bit longer, listening to Jorge puking his guts further along in the house, then the sheriff eased off the edge of the couch.

The bullets had punched through the desiccated flesh and seared the stuffing; one rattled down the ribs and fell to the floor as he propped the torso of the surprisingly light body against the wall and brushed the straw and beetles away. He reached into his pocket for the set of disposable gloves he often kept at hand, then knelt beside the thing to rip the rotted dress down the front and expose the shriveled chest.

"Dolls like her were rampant down south after the voodoo queen went missing. This particular puppet master owns quite a vast collection. Bear in mind you'll never see the doll unless it wants you too or it leaves the body. Illusions, enchantments, magic, and finally possession- it layers them on like makeup to conceal the truth. But like makeup, if you touch, it smudges. One of my earliest experiences with a doll came while I was interviewing a suspect known to have made a call out to the missing queen. He wouldn't shake my hand when we met, let it slide, but at the end of the conversation the creature either forgot or wanted to let me in on its secret. It stood up from the table, claimed it was a pleasure, and when I gripped his hand it felt like grabbing a bundle of greasy twigs."

"The ones in Avon and Frontier Land weren't wearing concealer," Jali said. "And there were a lot more than one. Why was that?"

"Far as we understand things, there's a difference between its ability to control a corpse and how it uses the dolls. It seems capable of possessing one body at a time, but controlling many. Marcy, my-" he paused. They'd never actually committed to any title beyond 'together.' And as a wolf, he had been explicitly instructed not to partake of any sheep. He knew what he wanted and he could craft a lie smooth as glass if he ever needed a cover, but he didn't here and what he wanted to say wouldn't roll on out. "My. . ."

"S'okay, boss," Jorge said, rejoining them. "Some relationships don't need a label."

"Marcy claims it can control bodies that have a spiritual vacancy," he continued quickly, lest the flip-flopping, curious child that Jorge was changed gears and start picking at the terminology surrounding Caelan's relationship with the corrupted young woman.

"The dolls aren't vacant," Jali said slowly, crouching beside him. She stopped to flick a beetle away with her shoe. "So it possesses them instead."

"Yes."

His hand settled over a cut running over the doll's left breast. Leather corded the incision; from the lack of healing (and a great deal of experience with these dolls) it was easy to deduce the cut had been made post-mortem. A properly made doll had its heart removed, burned, and the ash used for several spells and practices. Into the hollowed corpse would go necessary stuffing and charms to allow the demon access. What happened to the human half in this process, no one knew.

Remnants of a thick, tarry substance lay over the skin in the distinct impression of lipstick kisses; Caelan also knew that when testing came back it'd be found to contain a mixture of blood, ash and chemicals common to ancient embalming processes.

"See this?" he asked, touching the edge of one dark mark. "This is referred to as 'whispers of voodoo' in case files. The term is less politically popular these days as more about voodoo is understood, but it's the current accepted description. Death is intimate- so the necromancers believe and very often so they practice. The Whispers are the most common signature of necromancers. Location and number of marks."

"Must be easy to catch 'em then," Jali said. "Dumbshits leaving DNA left and right."

"Easier to identify, but by the time we figure out who they were they're long moved past that identity or the thing controlling them, this entity called Zakar, has discarded the necromancer."

"This one match anybody?"

Caelan shook his head. "Won't know without referencing the database. Considering we haven't had many instances of necromancers acting in the north except for those with Zakar, I would say this one came from the south and is working under him."

Jorge was still toeing around the body like the woman would come back to life and grab him. "If he's got a necro in Connecticut, you think he's got Marcy here, too?"

Caelan shook his head. He also made no mention of the demon's request to retrieve the knife. While he was certain they were safe from physical harm at least for this evening, the shadows of the home were dark and left plenty of room available for small, rounded ears and intent green eyes. He rose and started giving Jali instructions for handling the scene.

"Zakar calls Marcy his doll, doesn't he?" Jorge continued.

"He calls her his bride."

The young man grimaced. "Marcy's not like this, right? She's a wendigo. She can't be like this at her core, can she? You've grappled with her when she's transformed. She's not-"

"She tastes dead, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh." Jorge kicked at the straw. "Do you think it's possible to ever come back from something like this?"

"Hey, cowboy," Jali interceded. "Jorge's great and I know he's been with you longest and done God knows what to earn your trust, but he's a fluffball with baby teeth." She flashed a smile that would never mutate into that of a wolf's wild grin.  "I've only got these nubby fans and I bite harder than him."

Jorge crossed his arms and huffed. "I passed all my exams to get here, too."

Caelan studied her thoughtfully. "What are you itching at, Jali?"

"Say the word and I'll be there in a flash, Sir."

"Thanks," he said, but it was in a distracted tone and he saw her frown as she turned toward the front door. 

That was of little concern to him now- he would file it away for later because while he couldn't it, he, too, could feel the night's undercurrent. The dark sky called, the sway of the forest beckoned him out past the aluminum birdfeeder.

"Get the scene secure," he added, undoing the buttons of his shirt. "Take care of my truck. I'll pick it up in the morning." 

It was time to hunt.

THORN will be a primary focus during NaNoWriMo, so please excuse my haste as I work very hard to get as much done as possible for y'all! I'll try and keep it neat but I don't have a lot of time as I'm also prepping Dark Side for publication!