Hell's Detective

Chapter Seven- The Killer

Ingleseid crept down the Hillsbord Hospital corridors, just like last time.

Only last time he didn't have dead man that moved with all the speed and grace of a crippled dinosaur tagging along with him.

He remembered the way to the hole in the ground, so as long as nothing dangerous or unpredictable happened, they could get in, hopefully not wake up the king of vampires, and get out with the tooth.

A vampire staggered round the corner, heading straight towards them.

Cursing silently, he tucked his chin under Tatters' coat, the smell of dried blood and old people wafted through his nose.

What was it Holly said? Don't let them see your faces. Trying to act as natural as possible, Ingleseid kept walking. He wasn't worried about Tatters giving them away, it would take far more than a blood thirsty vampire to get him to show any sort of human emotion. The vampire staggered past them, too trapped in its own hungry little world to notice anything odd. Ingleseid let out a sigh of relief. He pointed up ahead to the hole, and Tatters nodded.

"They're down here," Ingleseid said as they got closer. He bent down to lower himself in, when an ear piercing scream erupted from down the corridor. He jumped up.

"Stay behind me," he commanded, following the scream, ready to turn and run at any moment.

They reached a door. Muffled moans spilled out from behind it. Ingleseid pushed it open a crack, and when he was sure nothing was going to jump out and eat him, went in.

The first thing he noticed were the cages. They could barely fit a full grown man, were crafted from cold iron. Crouching in the corners, wailing, muttering, or just holding their head in their hands, were vampires. But they didn't look like vampires. Their skin wasn't deathly pale and their faces weren't hollow, but filled out like a human's. Life pooled in their eyes, pupils wide and frozen in numb fear.

A demon stood at a steel table, poking and prodding at one of the strange vampires with surgical equipment. His skin was a sickly yellow, and he could somehow see even though his eyes and mouth were sown shut. He hadn't even noticed them come in.

Ingleseid coughed. "Dr Lacere, I presume?"

Dr Lacere jumped away from the table as if he'd been shot. When he saw the relatively non-existent threat Ingleseid and Tatters posed, he relaxed. The vampire didn't move. On closer inspection, Ingleseid realized it was unconscious.

"Do I know you?" Dr Lacere asked cautiously.

"Abner Ingleseid."

"The detective? So, you're the one they're all talking about."

They. Meaning demons. Ingleseid wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that.

"They didn't send you after me, did they?" Dr Lacere asked, looking ready to either run on kill him. Ingleseid wasn't betting on the first option.

"No, I'm here on a case. Murder."

Satisfied, Dr Lacere went back to what he was doing. "The Militia rats, I heard."

"Do you mind me asking why you ran away from Hell?"

He looked like he did mind, but said, "Higher orders, mate. Someone down there's got big plans for this world, and they need my work to help them do it."

"And that work would be...?"

Dr Lacere paused for a moment to grin. The stitches on his mouth stretched painfully. "I find imperfections in things...and I fix them."

"You mean you experiment on them."

"I improve creatures, Detective." He waved his scalpel at Tatters. "If you want, I could take a look at your companion, poke around in that empty head of his, see if I could spark some semblance of life into him."