The Culler and Her Devil

A shrill noise jerked me up from sleep, and my eyes flew open, fingers already wrapped around my gun beneath the pillow. Beside me, Tom stirred. “What the hell is that noise?” He pushed himself upward, stretched his arms over me, and hit the alarm until it went silent. His hands dropped on my breast, and he squeezed. I stretched, and the sheets caressed my naked body. Tom pinned my wrists against the headboard and lowered his lips on me. His breath was warm against my neck, smelling faintly of the bourbon we had been drinking last night. “Hmm…” he tried to flip me around but I glared at him. He raised an eyebrow, then let one of his hands trail down, beneath the covers and I felt his fingers slip inside me and I sighed. “Always wet,” he murmured just before I felt him slide inside me and I gasped. If there was something I liked about Tom, it was his large d**k. He was mid-thrust, my fingers splayed against his slick chest, when I heard my phone vibrate. I stared past his bare shoulder. "Aria," his voice was husky… "Stay still for a second..." I tilted my hips up slightly to give him the angle he wanted. My phone vibrated again, and I managed to grab it and look at the screen even as Tom was going faster, and it was getting harder to focus. Emergency. Immediately, I shoved my hands up against Tom’s chest, and locked my grip onto his shoulders with enough force to halt him instantly. "Hey," he grunted, blinking down at me in confusion, “what are you—" "Get off." "Aria, come on, we were right there!” My phone began to ring, and I swiped the encrypted line open and brought it to my ear. "Locke.” "Primary alert, Culler Locke," the voice synthesized through the speaker, "Class-One biological incident logged at Sector Four boundary. Blackwood Forest line. Local enforcement is onsite but holding per protocol. Direct command from Division Head." My eyes narrowed."Understood," I said, “ten minutes." I ended the call and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The cold floorboards bit into the soles of my feet, instantly washing away the heat of the sheets and Tom’s body. "Seriously?" Tom sat up, running a hand through his messy hair. "It's past midnight, Aria.” I reached for my tactical trousers folded over the back of the chair and pulled them on. "The department pays for my apartment, Tom. When the Directorate calls, I move." "You're a human machine," he muttered in frustration. I checked the slide of my sidearm; standard issue, loaded with silver-composite rounds, before clicking it into place against my thigh. "Lock the door on your way out." Pulling up in my unmarked sedan at the edge of Blackwood I stepped out of the car as rain pelted my shoulders. The air reeked of damp earth and decaying pine needles and I drank it in. Two local patrol officers in their ponchos were standing near the yellow barricade tape and I walked over to them. "Area’s restricted, miss," one of them called out, and he stepped forward to block my path. His torchlight was f*****g blinding and I swore under my breath as he flashed it directly into my eyes. "Civilian vehicles need to turn—" I didn't break my stride; I reached into my inner jacket pocket and pulled out my silver Directorate badge, letting the stark blue insignia catch the glare of his flashlight. His eyes widened, and both men snapped their boots together, standing straight as iron rods. "Culler Locke… apologies, ma'am. We weren't told an Elite was being dispatched." "Where’s the body?" I asked, cutting off his pathetic explanation. "Fifty yards into the brush, ma'am," the second officer offered nervously. Now he had a tongue to speak. "Keep the perimeter tight,” I commanded sternly. "If anything with fangs tries to cross this line from the deep woods, put lead in it." "Yes, ma'am." I pulled a pair of tight leather tactical gloves onto my hands as I navigated the dense roots. The darkness was thick, but the halogen lamps set up by the preliminary forensics team carved harsh, white beams through the fog. When I reached the clearing, three technicians were standing back, their faces pale under their heavy hoods. In the center of the mud lay the corpse. I stepped closer, crouching down beside the remains. It was a female werewolf, partially shifted back into a humanoid form upon death. Her jaw was slack, eyes wide and glassy, staring up into the rainy sky. Or rather, where her eyes should have been. I felt a subtle knot form in my stomach as I took in the details. Both of her eyes had been surgically carved out. Her hands were stretched out in front of her; every single finger had been snapped and severed at the knuckle. The front of her torso had been sliced open down the center, the ribcage forced apart and the internal organs completely harvested. Fucking wolves. Pack rivalries were getting worse by the month, but this... this was something else. "Culler Locke," the lead tech spoke up. "We've run the preliminary bio-scan. No silver residue found in the wounds. Whatever killed her used plain steel before... taking the parts." "Have you identified the pack?" I asked, rising to my full height and wiping a stray drop of rain from my cheek. "Not yet.” "Clear the scene," I ordered, turning my back on the body. "Transport the remains to the DCA central lab under maximum security protocol.” …. The Directorate of Culling Affairs headquarters stood like an obsidian monolith in the heart of Noxen’s administrative district. By the time I walked up the marble steps to the top floor, the clock on the wall read 2:30 AM. I knocked twice on the heavy wooden doors of the corner office before pushing them open. Director Adrian Harlow was standing by the floor-to-ceiling glass window, looking out over the glittering skyline of Noxen. "Aria," he said, turning around with a smile. "Director Harlow," I said, stepping forward and standing at attention. “I’ve personally reviewed the victim's preliminary file. Female wolf, adult, brutally mutilated. Eyes, fingers, and primary organs removed." Harlow’s smile faded, replaced by a dark frown. "Disgusting," he spat, shaking his head. "No matter how many legal rights we grant them or how much territory we concede to keep the peace, they remain beasts at their core.” "Agreed, sir," I replied. "However, the surgical precision of the cuts suggests a methodical approach. It could provoke retaliatory strikes against human border settlements if the packs believe we aren't maintaining order." Harlow looked at me. "Which is precisely why I am assigning you as lead operative on this investigation, Aria. I need someone with your discipline. Find out which pack is responsible, crush the uprising, and close the file before the media gets wind of it." "Yes, Sir.” He stepped to me and placed a warm hand on my shoulder. "How are Rowan and Evelyn? I feel as though I haven't seen your parents for a proper dinner in weeks." "They're well, sir," I offered a small smile. "Dad is still spending too much time in his lab and Evelyn’s manufacturing line just expanded.” "Good," Harlow chuckled softly, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “But for now... get some rest, Operative Locke. You have a monster to catch." "Yes, sir." …. I found myself driving my sedan back toward the crime scene. Something about it was pulling at my mind like an itch under my skin that I couldn't scratch. The forensics team had cleared out, the yellow tape fluttered uselessly against the wind. I cut my headlights a hundred yards away and stepped out into the cold darkness. I rounded the large oak tree where the body had laid…and froze. Through the curtain of rain, a dark figure was crouched in the mud right where the dead woman's body had rested. He was massive, broad shoulders stretching the wet fabric of his dark jacket. He wasn't human; I could feel the raw, oppressive aura rolling off him from ten paces away. He reached down, his claws extending with a subtle click, and scooped something small out of the mud, shoving it into his pocket. "Directorate! Don't move!" I barked, raising my weapon instantly, aiming straight for the center of his chest. "Get your hands where I can see them!" The figure went completely still, then slowly, he rose to full height, towering over the brush, easily six-foot-four. When he turned his head toward me, the faint glow of the city lights caught his face and I saw the scar cutting across his jawline, his golden eyes glowing. Noxen's Devil! Before I could even tighten my finger on the trigger, he launched himself directly at me with terrifying, inhuman speed, blurring through the heavy rain.