Bone and Blood Volume I

0 - Irvington, Nebraska, 1909

Midnight rain pattered on the house's dark windows. The day before, it had been filled with life. Hopes and dreams for the future. An hour ago, only a desperate certainty of what must be done remained. Now, its still air grew stuffy and stale. It would take days or weeks for someone to stop by the secluded lot, seeking its owners.

How many bodies would approach that threshold and leave unanswered before an unnerving sense shook them? How long until the police were called? What state would the scene be in when the sleepy constables of nothing-ever-happens-in-a-small-town decided to investigate the property to put some busybody's worries to rest?

Once the storm died down, the insects would discover what was left for them. However, they would not be the first visitors.

The doorknob on the main entrance clicked. The old master, a teen dressed in a black raincoat and gloves, jiggled it back and forth. No luck. It was unlocked, but the deadbolt had been thrown. He turned and shrugged at his companions behind him: the young master and the apprentice, also in black slickers.

The young master drummed his fingers on a brand-new Model T, one of the first of its kind. With a huff and a sneer, he walked to the nearest window. He gave it two testing taps with his knife's handle. On the third impact, the glass cracked into a spider web of lightning-shaped streaks. A final blow shattered the pane.

"What are you thinking?!" cried the apprentice. His forehead wrinkled as he ran a hand through his prematurely greying hair. "You're leaving evidence!"

With a note of patient weariness, the old master said, "It's fine."

"It doesn't matter," the young master spat. "It's not like it's our mess in there. No thanks to you."

The apprentice took a chided step back, bumping into his servant. Several barely concealed scars marred the servant's neck. He and the other three servants lacked raincoats. They stood unprotected in the downpour without complaint. Without a hint of a shiver.

The old master tsked. "Rhodes, you too. This is a learning experience, not a punishment."

"Whatever." Rhodes had intended to speak with bite. Instead, his words came out as a moody, teenage sulk. The curse of a youthful body. He turned back to the window and knocked over the remaining glass spikes. Reaching in, he found and undid the deadbolt. "Problem solved."

"Is this really okay?" the apprentice asked.

"None of this is okay." The old master waved for his servant, the tallest and seemingly oldest, to open the door. Naturally, the old master limped through first. However, Rhodes waved for the apprentice to go next.

The apprentice hesitated, suspicion in his eyes. He stepped aside as the final servants went to Rhodes' left and right. Those two women were stunningly beautiful and delicate. One with blonde hair and sharp features. The other a golden brunette with soft features.

Rhodes' third servant, a dark brunette, had been left at the compound in Omaha. That one was uncomfortably young. And, sure, that was typical of first servants. However, the expended ones were meant to be put to rest. Rhodes kept his, fussing over them like a doll collection.

With a terse smile, Rhodes motioned again for the apprentice to proceed. The apprentice held his ground. Rhodes frowned. "Move it, Chuckles."

"Would you stop calling me—"

"This is for your benefit. Not mine. MOVE."

The apprentice gave in, willing his servant to stay close on his heels. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he stepped into a sticky splattering of blood. The real carnage was just ahead in the living room. One brief glimpse of the scene. "Oh my god." He covered his mouth. Stumbled to the room's far corner.