Chief Woody rubbed the strange symbols with his thumb, then suddenly rembered sothing.
He slapped Luke on the shoulder with a grin.
"Heard you're working the cult case. Looks like this one's yours now too."
He turned and bellowed toward the hallway.
"Round up the hotel manager, the front desk, and anyone else connected. I want them all in cuffs!"
The scene was sealed. The dical examiner would handle the bodies upstairs and down here, and fire investigators would check the cause of the blaze.
None of that was Luke's problem right now.
His top priority was getting the evidence sowhere safe.
In all of chaotic Miami, there was only one place that qualified.
The FBI's secret hideout.
Luke pushed through the crowd and found Clarice still guarding the safe.
"We're going back to your secret base."
Before she could answer, he grabbed the edge of the heavy safe with one hand and lifted the hundred-plus-pound box like it was a lunchbox. He shoved it into the backseat. The car suspension groaned and dropped several inches.
Clarice slid behind the wheel, staring at him with a complicated expression.
"Are you on steroids? How the hell are you that strong?"
Luke laughed at her serious face.
"I figured you'd ask if I secretly learned so sorcery."
Clarice shook her head.
"Not quite. Your strength is ridiculous, but it's still within human limits. I think."
They rged into traffic. Outside, Miami was its usual brand of insane.
Bang! Bang!
Clarice yanked the wheel hard, sending two knife-wielding thugs flying after they tried to block the car for a robbery.
She straightened the wheel and picked up the conversation like nothing had happened.
"That waiter—what was he trying to steal from the safe? My reports? Case files?"
Luke leaned back, watching a gunfight blur past the window.
"Hard to say. But they went to a lot of trouble—arson, suicide bombers. Whatever they wanted, it wasn't just paperwork."
He thought about the symbols and the tiny Psionic boost he'd gotten from the charred corpse.
[Psionic 0.1]
It was barely anything compared to what he'd gained from Myers. He suspected the cult had a way of enhancing souls. The middle-aged man had been just an ordinary trapped spirit. Myers had been sothing stronger—corrupted and amplified.
The fire in 1408 had started and died in the weirdest way possible.
Probably a failed ritual.
"I found so symbols carved inside the wall. I copied them down. Think your people can analyze them?"
Clarice's expression turned serious as she shook her head.
"I'll run them through the database when I get back to headquarters, but I'm not optimistic. Cults usually make up their own symbols. Most of them don't an anything—they just look mysterious to the followers."
Luke sighed and let the symbols go for now.
By the ti he got back to his rundown apartnt, it was deep night.
He dumped the pile of military hardware on the couch and collapsed onto the bed.
Even his enhanced body couldn't fight the ntal exhaustion. His head barely touched the pillow before he was out.
Sleep didn't last long.
Dreams of endless fire, burned symbols, and that fleeting black shadow from room 1408 kept jolting him awake.
The phone's shrill ringing finally dragged him back to reality.
Luke forced himself up and stumbled into the living room to grab the old landline.
"Hello?"
"Luke, get to the station now! The hotel manager we picked up—he finally wants to talk. Says he's got important information!"
It was Steve, practically vibrating with excitent.
"This is the coolest case I've ever worked. Feels like a damn movie."
Luke rubbed his face.
"Got it. I'm on my way."
At the station, Steve led Luke to the interrogation room.
The hotel manager sat upright in his chair, posture perfect despite the handcuffs. When he saw Luke, he gave a small nod.
The mont Luke sat down, the man leaned forward.
"Officer Luke, have you ever heard of Frankenstein's monster?"
Luke blinked, then nodded.
"Sure. The doctor who built a monster out of corpses."
A faint smile touched the manager's lips.
"Correct. But I have to correct you on one point—it's not just a story. It actually exists."
"What?"
Luke's eyebrows drew together.
The manager continued calmly.
"I never knew exactly what happened in room 1408, but after years of working there I noticed a pattern. The hotel's shareholders never cared much about profits. Instead, they deliberately spread the horror stories about that room to attract thrill-seekers and oddballs."
"Every ti a guest died in there, people from the shareholders would show up to inspect. Once I overheard them talking. They said they wanted to create a perfect human being… just like Frankenstein."
Luke leaned in, eyes locked on the man.
"You're telling the truth?"
The manager t his gaze without flinching.
"Absolutely. I never slack off on the job."
Luke took a deep breath, stood up, and extended his hand.
"Thank you. You've given us a critical lead. I promise I'll get justice for every innocent person who died in that room."
The manager smiled, but it wasn't a relieved smile.
"Including , Officer Luke. Please avenge as well."
"What?"
Before Luke could react, the manager's body jerked violently. Blood began trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"Doctor! Doctor!"
Luke shouted toward the door.
It was already too late.
When the dical examiner arrived and finished his initial check, he looked at Luke like he'd seen a ghost.
"This is impossible. His heart exploded with no external trauma whatsoever."
"Son of a bitch."
Luke slamd his fist on the table.
A witness had just been murdered right in front of him—inside a Miami police station—by sothing that made no sense.
Just then Steve rushed in.
"Luke, your phone! It's that FBI agent!"
Luke grabbed the receiver and heard Clarice's excited voice on the other end.
"Luke, get over here right now. We found a lead on the evidence."
User Comments
0 comments from readers