After the Flesh by Fannie Price

Author:Fannie Price
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Urban Fantasy, After the Flesh, Fannie Price, Paranormal Fiction, Dragon Fiction
Publisher: Platinum Dragon Publishing
Published: 2019-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

“HELLO? MADAM FREYA?”

The bell over the door announced us, but no Madam Freya, or anyone else took stock at our arrival.

“Chicago PD,” Sigmund called out.

Silence answered.

The memory of the harpies and the knowledge the demon sent them to collect me tickled my conscious mind, and resulted in me resting my hand on the butt of my gun. We passed through a beaded curtain and deeper into the shop with no signs of anyone else inside. The dimly lit interior with its astrological paraphernalia from various religions, regions, and ethnic groups, leant the shop an air of spookiness. The quiet topped everything with a horror movie, foreboding vibe.

“Sign says they open at ten.” Sigmund pointed out.

A glance to my watch confirmed ten o’clock was fifteen minutes out. “And yet the door was unlocked.”

We drew our guns simultaneously. Each of us took a side of the room, cleared the dark corners, and then moved on to the only area left unchecked. Sigmund pulled back the dark, thick, velvet curtain, and we stepped into the section of the store where Freya must have eaten her lunch and stored the various incense, oils, talismans, and charms she sold out front.

“You smell that?”

Sigmund tapped his foot against the paddle on the trash can and gagged when the open top released the odor of perishable food left out for several hot days.

“Fuck. Yeah, I smell that.”

“No, not that.”

The opening of the lid added another level of stench but a different odor than what lurked inside the stainless steel can assaulted my nose. The stench made me wish I had gold or iron rounds in my clip instead of the hollow points. The stink of sulfur and decay of flesh, or maybe of the soul. The connection hadn’t been made last night but the harpies carried the same gag inducing smell.

“Something... else.”

My words trailed off as I laid my palm against the painted black wall. Something compelled me, instinct perhaps. I inhaled deeply and walked parallel to the wall and moved my palm along the surface.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure.”

I couldn’t explain to Sigmund what I didn’t understand myself. Energy pulsed on the other side of the wall. It hurt. Not painful, but uncomfortable. Like needles pressed against my skin. The sensation so real, I snatched my hand back and studied it, partially expecting to see imprints against my flesh.

“Roni what’s going on?”

“I feel, something. Negative energy. I don’t know how else to describe it. It feels like a nine volt battery, but on steroids.”

I took another step, stopped, pressed my palm against the wall again, and pushed. A muted click sounded, and this time when I pulled my hand away, a hidden door popped slightly ajar.

“How the hell did you know that was there?”

“I have no idea.”

Sigmund didn’t give me a chance to argue or object as he pulled the door open flush against the wall, and took point. He ran his fingers along the interior wall until he found the light switch, and flipped it on.

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