As Jackie stood in the breakroom of the Crescent Parish Police Department, the soft morning light filtered through the blinds. She took a moment to savor the tranquility of the morning in full bloom. The familiar chirping of birds provided a soothing backdrop to her routine, while faint traces of morning jazz drifted through the streets.
With practiced ease, she poured herself a cup of steaming coffee, the rich aroma filling the room. The peaceful ambiance hinted at the promise of a regular day—but Jackie's intuition sensed otherwise. Taking a sip, she stepped out of the breakroom, heading toward the holding cells.
As she exited, she collided with an officer rushing past the doorway. While the officer stumbled back and hit the ground, Jackie remained firm, managing to keep her coffee from spilling.
"My apologies, sir. I was in a rush," Officer Newbie blurted before looking up—only to realize he hadn't bumped into a man, but Ms. Jackie O'Hara. His eyes widened. "Ah, Ms. O'Hara! Please forgive me. It felt like I walked into a wall or something, so naturally, I thought…"
"It's okay, no harm done. I'm partly to blame for not looking both ways before crossing a threshold." Jackie extended a hand with a friendly smile, helping Newbie to his feet. "Did you drop those keys over there?"
Newbie patted himself down, his eyes darting to the floor. A sheepish expression crossed his face. "Looks like I did. Thanks for that."
"You wouldn't be heading to the holding cells, would you?" Jackie asked, eyeing the keys.
"I am, actually."
"Great, I'll join you. I was on my way there myself," she said, already making her way toward the stairs leading down.
"Okay, sure," Newbie agreed, hurrying to catch up.
As they walked, he couldn't help but steal glances at Jackie, still marveling at how unfazed she'd been during their collision. His eyebrows lifted slightly in admiration.
"Something on your mind?" Jackie asked, catching him in the act.
"Yes, actually," he admitted without hesitation. "You're just so small and…" His gaze briefly flickering over her frame. "Delicate-looking. How is it that I hit the floor, and you didn't even budge? I bet you didn't even spill a drop from your mug."
Jackie halted, a smile tugging at her lips, pride evident in her stance. "Working here, I'm sure you've heard stories about my father by now, haven't you?"
"Yes, ma'am. The famous contractor, Jack O'Hara."
"My father was a wise man, sharp as a blade, but he never relied on his mind alone. He believed strength and intellect should match—one was useless without the other. He never wanted to be in a position where he couldn't save someone or uncover the truth because of a physical limitation. So he trained every day, pushing himself to be just as strong as he was smart. And when I started tagging along on his jobs, he put me through the same training." She flexed her arm playfully. "I've slacked off since retiring, but I've still got a little somethin' left."
Jackie took pride in her father—not just as a parent but as her hero. No one in the world garnered her respect the way he did. He had shaped her, passing down everything he knew—not just about contract work, but business, discipline, and survival.
"Wow, you're actually pretty toned." Newbie's eyes lingered on her muscles, admiration clear in his expression.
Jackie smirked but said nothing, continuing toward the holding cells. Their footsteps echoed lightly in the corridor, passing rows of iron bars.
When they reached the cells holding Theo and Noir, the officer sifted through his ring of keys, searching for the right one. Jackie, meanwhile, observed Noir's demeanor—still and contemplative, his focus locked onto the cell door.
"Apologies for the accommodations," she said. "You know how police stations are—hospitality's not much of a strong suit. But we couldn't have you disappearing before we figured out why those Dread Hunters were after you. And more importantly, who you are."
Noir didn't respond. He didn't even glance her way. His gaze remained fixed on the door.
In the next cell over, Theo—the Dread Hunter—lay sprawled out on the cot, fast asleep, as if he had nothing to worry about.
Finding the key, Newbie placed it in the lock. As the metal clicked, Theo cracked open an eye.
Then, in a blur of motion, he moved.
Launching from the bed, he slammed his full weight against the cell door, catching the officer off guard and knocking him backward.
But before he could gain any distance, Jackie grabbed him by the collar, slamming him to the floor.
"Ah, Ms. O'Hara, my apologies." Newbie picked himself up, shaking his head. "I should've known he'd try something the moment I let my guard down."
"Intuition comes with experience," Jackie said. "Remember that."
"Yes, ma'am."
She glanced at Theo, who was now restrained.
"You're taking this one to the interrogation room, correct? I ask because I'll be heading there next as well."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Great! I'll help you escort him."
With that, Jackie fell in step behind Theo as they led him out of the cell block, keeping a firm presence at his back in case he tried anything else.
INSIDE THE INTERROGATION ROOM, COMMANDER FORTIER AND CHIEF NKOSI SAT poised at the table, a manila folder spread open before them. The folder detailed Theo's background, his crimes laid bare in black and white.
As Newbie and Jackie entered, the officer stationed outside held the door open. They guided Theo to a chair, where Newbie deftly uncuffed one of his wrists, looped the restraint through the steel bar on the table's surface, and secured it back in place.
Chief Nkosi leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "Theodore Crowler. Thirty-two years old. Born just outside August Parish. Son of Abraham and Alexandra Crowler. Younger brother to Neil Crowler—our elusive escapee from last night's operation." He tapped a finger against the folder. "Your rap sheet includes theft, armed robbery, home invasion, and now, attempted murder of an officer." With a measured toss, he slid the file across the table. "Care to explain what you were doing in Mille Dan last night?"
Theo smirked, glancing at the file before looking around the room. Outwardly, he projected nonchalance, but inside, curiosity stirred. Like every other Dread Hunter, he had no memories of a life before becoming one. It was as if they had all been pulled from the depths of autopilot, their awareness snapping into focus only once they took on their new line of work.
"What?" he drawled. "Is it a crime to enter the swamp now?"
"Of course not," Chief Nkosi replied, his tone almost too pleasant. "I'm simply trying to understand why someone like you would be so deep inside a place as treacherous as the Mille Dan Swamp." He leaned back slightly, voice calm but probing. "You see, we received a tip from a very reliable source. Apparently, a couple of Dread Hunters were spotted lurking around the kingdom—moving with a sense of urgency."
"What are you planning?" Eric began, his voice sharp with accusation.
Before Theo could respond, Jackie cut in. "Why were you after the kid?"
Theo smirked, spitting onto the floor before shifting his gaze to Fortier, then Jackie. "What's that, darlin'? Me and my brother weren't sent to snatch no kid." He paused, aggressively scratching at his hand. "No, what we were paid to catch is worth a mighty fine price to whoever's requestin' it. A hell of a lot more than some kid would be worth."
Chief Nkosi narrowed his eyes. "If not a child, then what exactly were they paying this 'hefty price' for?"
Theo tilted his head, a grin creeping onto his face. "I guess you could call it a wolf in sheep's clothing. But our benefactor had another name for it." He leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly. "We were sent to capture a demon."
"Preposterous," Eric scoffed. "Looks like we have an occultist on our hands, Chief."
A heavy silence settled over the room. Jackie and Chief Nkosi exchanged brief but knowing glances. Then, with a quiet clearing of his throat, Nkosi pushed back his chair and made his way toward the door.
"Commander Fortier, if you could give Ms. O'Hara and me the room, please," Chief Nkosi said.
"Leave?" Fortier frowned, stepping toward the chief. "May I ask why, sir? You put me in charge of this case, but it's been out of my hands this entire time. And now, you're kicking me out of the interrogation?"
Before the chief could respond, Theo smirked, mocking Fortier. "Run along now, boy. A good dog doesn't question the one holdin' the leash."
"That's enough!" Jackie snapped, stepping in close to Theo. Her voice dropped to a whisper—sharp, cutting—but loud enough to carry across the room. "You've got some nerve calling someone out of their name when none of you Dread Hunters even know what you really are."
Theo leaned back, his smirk faltering. Something about her words unsettled him, as if she had just brushed against an unspoken truth—one buried deep within every Dread Hunter.
Chief Nkosi exhaled, turning back to Eric. "Please," he said, his voice calm but firm. "This is difficult enough without having to explain it to anyone else. I promise, one of these days, I'll fill you in. But right now, just give us a moment."
Unbelievable, Eric thought, but he held his tongue. "Fine. I'll take my leave." He shut the door behind him with a decisive thud.
Jackie dropped into the chair beside Chief Nkosi, arms crossed tightly, frustration etched into her expression as the interrogation resumed.
"What do you mean by 'demon'?" Nkosi asked.
Theo smirked. "Oh? So we've got a believer in our midst?"
Jackie slammed her hand on the table. "Start talking."
Theo glanced between her and the chief, momentarily thrown off. He hadn't expected them to take this whole demon thing seriously. Still, if they wanted a story, he'd indulge them.
"You have no idea what goes on in Mille Dan Swamp," he said, leaning back. "I'm not just talkin' about what folks see on the surface—I mean the backwaters. The places no one sane would step foot in. Like where the kid was." He paused, his voice lowering slightly. "I've seen things that'd make your skin crawl. Make your stomach turn. If there's a hell on earth, it's there. Ain't a more unforgivin' place like it."
Chief Nkosi's expression remained unreadable. "Try us."
AS COMMANDER ERIC FORTIER STOOD OUTSIDE THE CRESCENT PARISH POLICE Department, the flame of his lighter hovered inches from the half-lit cigarette hanging from his lips. Before the fire could kiss the tobacco, frustration sparked in his mind.
With a sigh, he let the flame die.
"I've spent my whole life preparing for this position, working my tail off every single day. And for what? To freeze up and make a fool of myself in front of my team—and the Chief?"
He reignited the lighter, raising it to the cigarette once more as his thoughts continued to burn.
This parish is going to hell. First, they hand it over to some self-righteous, holier-than-thou plant woman, and now civilians are running law enforcement.What a farce of a kingdom.
A sudden clang of metal crashing against the pavement echoed from the alley beside the CPD. Fortier snapped the lighter shut, the cigarette still unlit.
Casually, he advanced down the alleyway, eyes scanning the shadows.
"Who's there?" he called out, pausing to listen.
Impatience tugged at his lips. "Surely no one's stupid enough to stir up trouble right outside a police department."
A voice cut through the silence from behind him.
"Wouldn't they, Commander?"
Cold metal pressed against his back.
"I'm not much for ideas. I left that part up to my brother."
"MAN, THAT SUCKED—WHAT A WASTE OF TIME. WE HARDLY GOT ANY INFORMATION out of him," Jackie muttered, shutting the door to the chief's office behind her.
Chief Nkosi let out a long sigh, reaching into his coat pocket—only to pause mid-motion. His hand hesitated before retreating as he sank into his chair.
Jackie, catching the movement, leaned over the desk and flipped open his coat. Two cigars sat nestled inside the pocket.
"I thought we agreed you'd quit," she said, eyes narrowing in irritation.
"Heh!" The chief let out a nervous chuckle. "What can I say? Old habits die hard when you're stuck in an office all day."
Jackie remained unimpressed. Without a word, she grabbed the small trash can beside his desk and held it out to him.
"Really?" the chief asked, eyeing her stern expression.
Sensing she wouldn't budge, Chief Nkosi sighed and relented. "These weren't cheap, you know," he grumbled, dropping the cigars into the trash.
"I've already lost one fool to those things—I'm not losing another," Jackie said, setting the bin back on the floor.
Silence settled between them.
Jackie had lost her father to smoking years ago. Now, she made it a point to keep her fictive uncle from meeting the same fate.
"So, any luck with the kid?" the chief asked.
Jackie scratched her head. "None. I checked the missing persons' files like you said, but he doesn't match any descriptions. You might have better luck posting fliers."
"You think so?"
"What? Don't you agree?"
"It's not that. It's just…" The chief hesitated. "Finding him in a place like that… There's no way anyone could have survived out there alone, let alone a kid. I doubt his mind is all there." He exhaled, sympathy lacing his voice. "The boys in the lab say he's been living there for well over a year, judging by the condition of some of his body parts. Surely, it wasn't by his own doing."
"Maybe," she yawned. "Hard to imagine someone going through that much trouble just to get rid of a kid, though."
The chief pondered for a moment before shifting the conversation to a more pressing matter.
"Well, stepping away from the hows and whys for a second, I have a favor to ask."
"I'm listening."
"I hate to put this on you, but I hate the idea of a kid his age sitting behind bars even more. God forbid our cells fill up and we have to send him to the streets or another department. A place full of felons is no place for a boy his age. How about letting him stay in one of your apartment units? Just until we figure out who he is."
"I'm no longer listening," she said, gathering her things with brisk, decisive movements.
"Consider it a favor for your dear uncle. I'll cover everything out of my own pocket—rent, food, clothes, the works."
Jackie exhaled sharply, then groaned. "Ugh, fine." She leaned over the desk, jabbing a finger at him. "But if I catch you with another smoke, your favor-seeking days are over."
"Okay, okay, I'm through. Scout's honor."
As Jackie headed for the door, Chief Kota Nkosi offered his sincerest thanks.
"Thank you, love."
"Yeah, yeah. This one's gonna hurt your credit with me, old man."
The chief slumped back into his seat, already contemplating the cost of his favor as the door shut.
AS JACKIE NEARED THE HALLS OF THE DEPARTMENT, HEADING FOR THE HOLDING cells, she stretched and let out a yawn. "I really have to stop doing favors for people. They never seem to benefit me."
Just then, an officer exited the locker room, adjusting his collar. He gave her a nod as he walked by. Through the briefly opened door, Jackie caught a glimpse of a sweat suit hanging neatly in an open locker.
TWIRLING THE KEY TO THE CELL, JACKIE STOPPED IN FRONT OF NOIR, SLIPPING A PAIR of sweats and slides through the bars.
"Let's go, kid. You're coming with me. We've got a better place for you to stay until we can figure out who you are." She unlocked the cell door, giving him a pointed look. "But first, you stink. You're taking a shower before we leave."
She held her breath as Noir stepped out, silently praying that a quick rinse would help with the stench. You have to bring your own soap, but hopefully a simple rinse will do well enough.