Charlie Swan: Vampire Hunter

1. Ice

                 I was tempted to call in sick that first morning. Nothing was wrong with me but intuition tried to keep me welded under the covers. Whether that was police intuition or father's instinct, I'll never know. Either way sick days are hard to come by when you're Chief of Police.

                The quiet, early morning was damp and grey as usual, the coffee at the station was bad, and my daughter was...typical. I'd peeked in on her, of course, but the dawn had barely broken over the distant mountains by the time I'd walked out the door this morning and my teenager wasn't moving any faster than the sun that's for damn sure.

                The desk in my office was piled with a stack of menial paperwork that I'd almost rather set on fire than read through but, hey, police work isn't all car chases and DUI's. Walking to it, I moved aside some of it and willfully ignored the rest as I sat in the faux leather chair.

                  I'd barely pressed the mug of coffee to my lips before I heard someone calling for me. "Charlie," I looked up to see Waylon peeking into my office with the confidence of an old friend.

                 "What is it?"

                 "We just got report of another animal attack. Out in the woods. Found by a couple of hikers."

                 "Again?"

                "Yeah. Call just came in." He scratched his head. "This is the fourth one in two months."

                  I took a deep breath and tried to exhale the tightness gnawing at my gut. "Alright, but I want to check out this one personally."

                "Body's already moved to the coroner."

                 I nodded. "Just let me finish my coffee and I'll drive over to Port Angeles."

***************************************************************

                "Here's the body, Chief Swan." Doctor Kelly pulled back the sheets and I struggled to remain composed. The body had been generously sewn up but it was still blotched and bloated and... unnatural. A lot of the skin had been torn and ripped but from what I could make out it was a white male of unidentifiable age.

               "Third one this month," I said. "It might be time to issue an advisory warning to potential campers in the area. Can you tell what animal? Bear, canine, feline?"

               "About that," she hesitated, pulling out a clipboard and looking over her notes. "Usually when these things happen we can decipher what sort of animal attack it is, based on teeth and claw marks left on the cadaver."

              "Yeah, I know. What about it?"

             "Well..."

            "What is it?" She was avoiding looking me in my eyes, an awkward gesture that was child-like and uncomfortable.

            "Well, the lacerations and bite marks are consistent with only one animal that I know."

            "What kind of animal?"

            "Human."

              I must have looked at her like she'd just said the sky was falling because the next thing she said was, "I know this sounds bizarre, but look over here."

              I walked around the table to where she was standing, pointing at the man's left forearm. From elbow to wrist there seemed to be shallow red marks streaking in and out of larger gashes.