Rampage [BK#1 in Dark Creatures]

Unleashed

I had hoped that, after months of searching, Desmund would finally throw his hands up and say "Alright, that's enough. We're done." But he never did. Every week, we visited a new investigator. I was bored with it all almost instantly, but that didn't mean I was going to leave Desmund to dedicate so much time and effort into helping me find a cure by himself. I know I'm callous, but I'm not that callous.

Jackson, Tennessee was absolutely freezing. It was January, so the snow was just beginning to kiss the ground. I'd seen this place a thousand times, but never in winter. I always tried to stay ahead of the seasons and keep on the lower side of the U.S.A. during the cold months. But not this year. This season, I was going to freeze my butt off waiting on crook's front porches. Lovely.

"Okay, Bex," Desmund said, reciting the same speech he gave me every time we did this, "On the other side of this door is a chance at a normal life. And even if this one's a screw-over, there's always the next one on the list."

I rolled my eyes. "Just knock." I was absolutely exhausted. I hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. My switch was getting impatient, and it took all of my willpower to hold it back during the day. I needed to sleep in a good bed tonight, or my control was going to snap.

He raised his hand to the door, wrapping firmly on its surface. I'd started a little game with myself: I would use the investigator's house to try and guess their stereotype. This guy was obviously rich beyond belief. His house was well-hidden behind a long, huge, thick wall. The mechanical gate entrance had been quite the spectacle, but nothing close to the rest of the property. The driveway was lined with beautiful evergreens, and the yard was perfectly manicured. The house itself looked like it should belong to some member of the English royal family, not a paranormal investigator. Whatever this person did, it gave them a lot of green.

I imagined a gray-haired man, probably in his mid-sixties. He wore a white collared shirt and perfectly-pressed black pants. I smiled to myself. He probably had a whole stable full of horses out in the back.

But the person who opened the door was none of these things.

He looked about nineteen, maybe twenty. He was incredibly attractive, that was obvious. With dark chocolate brown hair and stormy gray eyes, it was hard not to stare. I blinked a few times, hoping to clear my head.

Desmund wasn't fazed in the least.

"Hello," he said, all business-like, "My name is Desmund, and this is my friend Bex." He jerked his head at me impatiently. "Do you happen to know the paranormal investigator that lives here?"

The guy smirked, crossing his arms. "Paranormal investigator?" He leaned casually against the doorframe. "Who told you that?"

Desmund licked his lips, getting antsy. "We got a referral from one of his clients. They said he could suck demons from the human soul."

To my surprise, the guy simply rolled his eyes. "What are you, some sort of ghostbusters geek?"

I bristled at that. "Lay off, jerk."

The guy's eyes swung, locking with mine. He cocked his head lazily, studying me. "Becky, right?"

I scoffed, not bothering to correct him. I just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. The image of a nice, large motel room bed flashed through my mind.

"Can you help us or not?" Desmund demanded. He glanced at me, impatience brewing in his expression. He was just as tired as I was.

The guy sighed and widened the door. "Sure. Come on in."