43: Fox Man Comes Home [1]

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The cubicle was bathed in the soft glow of computer monitors. The smell of steaming coffee mingled with the scent of a half-eaten donut as Jace worked on a crossword puzzle.

Nothing new. Nothing serious.

He liked his nights like that; it made the maddening thoughts of this place seem to disappear.

"Hey, Jace."

He jolted at the sound of a knock on the door.

'That's weird.' He thought. Patrick doesn't usually walk these halls, and the next check isn't for another hour.

"Hey, Pat." Jace said, squinting as he opened the door.

His eyes shifted to the figure standing behind Patrick—a fidgeting, slim body with a shaky grip on a flashlight. It was clear the rookie was nervous, probably having heard all the ghost stories circulating about this place. Jace wasn't about to offer any reassurance; he, too, thought this place was haunted, haunted by madness.

"What happened?"

Patrick rubbed his head awkwardly and sighed deeply. "The cops just called. It's, uh..."

He hesitated, then decided not to finish the thought. "Just go and take a peek at the criminal block, cell 329."

Jace blinked. "Isn't that Loom—?"

"Yep." Pat nodded, tilting his head toward the direction Jace should go.

"Fine." Jace sighed, picking up the keys and a torchlight as he moved out of the cubicle.

"Take the rookie with you." Pat suggested.

Jace glanced at the young man with a whimsical frown and waved him closer. The kid was definitely not ready for this, but who ever is?

"Move it, pal." Jace said, giving the rookie a pat on the back to push him forward.

They walked away from the bright halls into the flickering, horror-vibe interior of the cell block. With each step, the sounds of pained moans, scratches, and mutterings grew louder, making the rookie walk faster.

"Is it true?" The rookie asked quietly, barely louder than a midnight whisper.

"What?" Jace asked, breaking the tense silence.

"This place is haunted? Those ghost stories—they're not true, right?" The rookie chuckled nervously.

Jace didn't answer and kept walking, but the rookie didn't take the hint. "Ghosts and whatnot, right? Kid stuff. I'm not afraid of them, by the way. I love spooky stuff. My girlfriend's into the whole gore kink."

"You have a girlfriend?" Jace asked, genuinely surprised as he opened the door to the criminal division block.

"Oh, yeah." The rookie nodded joyfully. "Stacy. I do everything to keep her happy—buy her and her husband tickets to movies, get them groceries."

Jace raised his eyebrows but decided not to comment. It wasn't his mess to get involved in. "Sure." He said as he approached a cell.

He gave the rookie a look and gestured for him to open the peeking window.

"Me?"

"Yes, go."

The rookie gulped and stepped forward, slowly opening the window. The moonlight filtered into the cell, a rare sight in these parts, brushing a cold breeze against his nape.

"Hello?" The rookie spoke but was met with dead silence.

His eyes roamed over the many markings on the walls, most of them glyphs of canine-shaped faces etched in black scratches.

"Hey, Loomis!" Jace yelled, banging on the door.

"False gods—" Like a buzzing fly, the whisper almost flew past him. Jace leaned closer and flashed the torch inside.

The light shone upon the back of a man, sitting still, facing the graffiti-covered wall.

"What was that?" Jace asked.

"Days come, men fall. He takes pain away, for pain is truth. He is right." The patient mumbled.

"Okay, I want you to turn around." Jace ordered, waiting.

"Hell rises, desires take, men fall, for pain is..." The patient went silent, then slowly raised his head.

The silence lingered, tension thick in the air. Jace bit his lip, slowly reaching for his taser.

The figure turned around slowly, and the rookie dropped his torch, but the light stayed. His eyes were white as snow, his skin riddled with burns, and his face was marred by three deep, long scars.

"He is back." Billy muttered as he slowly stood up. "He is back. The Fox-Man is back."

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[Denali, Alaska]

The cold didn't bother the golden-eyed beauty as she sat on the couch, her legs tucked close, a smile playing on her lips as she shyly bit her nails.

"I saw him." She muttered so quietly that it would have been lost amid her brothers' and sisters' bickering during game night. But her words were enough to make the entire family turn toward her in an instant.

They fell silent, looking between each other before the oldest woman in the living room approached and sat beside her. "Who are you talking about, dear?"

She looked around the room, taking in the curious gazes, and answered with a shy smile, "My m-mate."

They exchanged looks of shock and surprise.

Her sister was the first to recover, and in a blink, she was beside her, holding her hands with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Alice, what did you see? How did he look? Tell me everything!" Rosalie demanded.

Alice gulped, seeing her sister's determination while watching the others. Emmett and Edward, never ones for gossip, still leaned closer. Even Carlisle seemed curious.

"It was… the clearest thing I ever saw." She said, her smile spreading with each word. "He had the goofiest of smiles, black eyes like the night itself. He was dreamy."

"Was he jacked?" Emmett asked, flexing his biceps, but nobody seemed to care.

"I think we were talking on the edge next to the sea and he…" She paused, gazing at them, embarrassed.

"He did what?" Rosalie asked sharply, her tone changing. Emmett stepped closer and put an arm around her shoulder as they waited for Alice's next words.

"He pulled me into a k-kiss."

Emmett tightened his grip on Rosalie's shoulder, causing her to shake it off.

"Okay, I wanna punch somebody very badly. Any volunteers?" Emmett asked, but again, nobody seemed to care.

Alice giggled at his remark, looking at them expectantly.

"I'm gonna see him soon."