Page 20 of Starry with a Chance of Nightshade
Drest glanced at him. “Do you realize we bicker like an old married couple?”
“Yes. I’m aware,” said Stratton. “Sadly, I think it means we’re spending way too much time together. I really need to start dating again. Remind me again why I stopped.”
“Mad scientist and his monsters occupyingallour free time,” said Drest, pain ebbing into his voice. “Between work and this, we haven’t had a day off in how long?”
“Too long,” agreed Stratton.
A group of students exited one of the buildings. Only one glanced their way; the rest were too engrossed in conversation. Situational awareness was not high on their priority list. The young woman who glanced their way faltered in her step, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of them.
She was attractive but a bit on the young side for Stratton. Then again, at his age, finding a woman who had hundreds of years under her belt was easier said than done.
Drest nudged him as the college students continued onward. “Want to get her number? Maybe have her meet you for drinks once we see if this lead is bogus or not?”
One of the other students looked at the woman. “You coming?”
She nodded but stared at Drest and Stratton a moment longer before hurrying off with her friends.
For the past eighteen years, he and Drest had split their time between being homicide detectives in Chicago and hunting the creatures that had managed to escape Frankenstein Manor. Every bit of their personal time was allotted to the pursuit of the creatures, with the ultimate goal of finding Rachael.
Unlike their predecessors, the monsters created by Victor himself, these creatures lacked any ability to control their rage or their thirst for blood, and they had an insatiable craving for brains. The fresher, the better. Stratton had thought the creatures that had come from the original—from Frankenstein’s monster himself—were formidable.
Henry’s monsters were worse.
Far worse.
They had dispersed, vanishing into the world, using the cover of darkness to move about freely, leaving dead bodies in their wake. They were predators in every sense of the word. Not only that, but they had no rhyme or reason that he could discern for their migratory patterns. When they’d realized the creatures were using cargo trains as their main mode of transport, following them had become slightly easier, although not an exact science. But one thing was for certain: they seemed to be forming groups of varying sizes, no longer solitary in their endeavors.
The group of creatures were collecting more members as they went. At first, there had been one in Chicago that had gone on a murder spree. Then it had reappeared a state over, showing all the signs of being the same suspect as the previous murders. Yet it had been clear the creature hadn’t acted alone there. This continued, with the creatures moving across the United States at a fairly rapid pace, and like moss on a rolling stone, they gathered others as they went.
Everything pointed to the town of Grimm Cove as being the group’s next stop. The hope was that he and Drest had finally managed to get ahead of the creatures. That they’d be able to stop another attack from occurring rather than playing catch-up.
Instantly Stratton’s thoughts went back to Tarrytown. Specifically, to the little girl with the big green eyes and a head full of dark hair.
Eleréalta.
Star.
She’d been so small, so innocent yet a witness to unspeakable violence. To atrocities no child or adult should ever have to see or live through. Her father had piecemealed her mother back together again using mostly nonhuman parts. Amice, who Drest had sworn was a ray of light when she’d been alive, had been anything but in her reanimated state.
She’d been downright feral.
The child had been too young to understand what had come through the basement door wearing her mother’s face was not the same person. Gone was the tenderness and love a mother held for their offspring. She had been a monster in the truest sense of the word, and she’d honestly been the least violent of everything that had emerged from the darkened basement doorway.
After Stratton’s magik had cleared and the mystical dust had settled, the truth of Henry’s dastardly deeds had been revealed. Unable to let his wife rest in peace, Henry had taken it upon himself to try to bring her back.
He’d succeeded—to a point.
In his quest to resurrect Amice, Henry had made dozens of other attempts. The true number of creatures birthed by his madness remained a mystery to this very day. It was a secret the man would no doubt take to the grave. The abominations had been cobbled together from bits and pieces Henry had been able to beg, borrow, and steal. He’d been behind the rash of deaths that had occurred. The burger guy had died because Henry needed spare parts and what was helping him with the task—the creature who had once been Amice—required a diet of brains.
But that wasn’t the extent of Henry’s madness. The man had procured body parts that weren’t even human. Their previous owners had been supernaturals. He’d not been choosey in the type of supernatural he’d harvested parts from. He’d taken anything he could get, and the final products were nothing short of perfect killing machines.
Henry had been quiet about most of what he’d done, but he’d made sure to inform Drest and Stratton that they were the reason for it all. That it was their fault. By being Nightshade Hunters, they shouldered the responsibility for his actions because he’d wanted to keep Amice safe from them and their kind. His mind was that far gone.
He truly thought that by creating more and more monsters, they’d somehow keep Amice from meeting her end by way of a hunter. What Henry had made in the basement of the manor had been an army of sorts. Stratton had to hand it to the man. He certainly managed to make it difficult for Drest and Stratton.
There had been too many of the creatures for the hunters to handle, especially when the men had other concerns at the time. Drest had been fixated on keeping Rachael and her unborn child safe, and Stratton had been obsessed with protecting the little girl. That had left them vulnerable and allowed room for mistakes.
Stratton had been forced to use his magik. Drest had used his at the very same second. Something happened—something they still hadn’t been able to explain.
