Enter the Hound: The Origin of Inu

Chapter 19: Minor Chord

 

            Break ended and classes resumed without so much as a word of information about Nadine.  Inu, Austin, and Frostfire filed a missing persons report, but it was in vain.  Nadine was nowhere to be found.  Inu and Austin feared the worst, but refused to give up hope.  Both took to keeping the blinds raised on in their windows with an LED lantern lit on the window sill.  They hoped that Nadine would pass by and see it, and know she was welcome.  It was a vague, naïve hope, but it was enough.

            Meanwhile, more and more reports of mysterious, brutal deaths were trickling into the police stations and out into the news.  The victims were all beaten and bludgeoned to death, but there were no marks to indicate what the weapon was, and there were no fingerprints.  Nadine wasn’t listed among the victims thus far, however, and that have Inu and the others the hope they needed to carry on and keep the lanterns lit.

            The police called Austin in early February to inform him that witnesses reported seeing a woman resembling Nadine’s description in the area where another murder victim was found.  No photographs could support this, and the woman was seen on the public side of the police tape.  This by itself was enough to catch the police department’s interest, but not enough to hold it.  What really intrigued them about the witness’s statement the comment about the woman’s smile.

            The witness was a homeless man known only as Jericho who lived in an alley about a block up from where the latest victim had been found in Dredgeport.  He had been making his usual rounds collecting discarded cans when he saw the police tape.  He crept a little closer, but dared not go right up to the tape.  He stood on the corner about five feet away from the tape.  The woman who matched Nadine’s description was leaning against the side of a building to his left.  Her head was turned toward the crime scene, and she had a cold, sick grin on her face, “the kind that could freeze blood,” the witness had said.  And she was humming, too, that much the witness was sure of.  She was humming a song very quietly to herself.  He couldn’t tell what song it was, but it was low and sounded menacing.

            “It just doesn’t make sense,” Austin told Inu when the three friends met over lunch that Friday.  “Why would Nadine be in Dredgeport?  She hates that place.  She always complained about how filthy she felt going there.  And even if she was, smiling at a crime scene?  Humming menacing songs under her breath?  That’s not our Nadine.”

            Inu chewed on her bottom lip and poked at her unagi roll with her chopsticks.   “Austin…you remember how Nadine was acting before she disappeared?”

            Austin froze, his chopsticks dangling a slippery slice of sashimi in mid-air.  “Yes.  Your point?”

            “Well…isn’t it possible that Nadine may not be entirely in her right mind?” Inu asked, dreading the answer even as she asked.  She did not want to have these thoughts about her friend, but she couldn’t ignore what police had told Austin.  “Isn’t it possible that…that she’s…hurting…people without meaning to?”

            The sashimi slipped from Austin’s chopsticks and landed with a heavy plop on the table.  He frowned and set his jaw.

            “That’s not funny,” he replied, his voice eerily low.

            “No, it’s not,” Inu agreed, “but it’s a possibility we might have to…”

            “Nadine is no murderer!”

            “…consider.  Keep your voice down, please.”

            Austin thought back to the last time Nadine had been at lunch with them.  He remembered how the glasses had shattered when Nadine got upset, and how a single high note—a note she hadn’t been able to reach before the Genome incident—had knocked him to the floor.  He remembered how she had acted at the Tau Christmas party, crazed and violent.  His chopsticks fell from his fingers.

            “Oh dear God,” he whispered after a long silence.  “How could we have missed it?”

 

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            Moreau sat curled up in a fetal position in his bathtub and stared at the knobs while the hot water pounded down on him and washed away the latest mass of peanut butter cracker crumbs to encrust his body.  He had no desire to grab a sponge and aid the process the way he usually would.  In fact, he was quite content just to sit there and let his skin reach new levels of pruniness.

            Nothing was going his way.  He had made absolutely no progress in finding the dog-girl, nor could he track down Harvey to pump him for information.  He didn’t even have the comfort of working on his experiments.  He was horribly depressed.

            On the plus side, he didn’t have to worry about Junior at all.  He made a deal with the little spaz when the police left after issuing him a warning—lucky little bastard.  He would refrain from called the insurance company if Junior’s friend would repair the damage to his car at no cost.  Junior wasn’t thrilled with having to pay his buddy for the work to both cars, but at least Moreau didn’t have to worry about a long trail of paperwork.  No big deal.

            He rolled his head forward and stared into the drain.  He watched as both water and scum slid down into the pipes to be carried away into wherever it was shower water went.  He really didn’t care.

            “It didn’t used to be like this,” he muttered.  “It used to be easier.  I remember…okay, I almost remember when I first started out with these experiments.  Things get a little fuzzy prior to the accident they say I had…whoever ‘they’ are.  Screw ‘em.  They probably made that up just to steal my research and deprive me of my government contract.  Bastards.”

            The back door squeaked open in the kitchen, but he didn’t hear it.  Instead he continued to stare into the drain and mutter complaints about his life.  The fact someone else was in the house didn’t register with him until the shower curtain was ripped open.

            “Pathetic,” a voice spat.  “And to think I practiced on all those worthless mongrels just to get to you.  What a waste of my time.”

            Moreau looked up to see a slender young woman with long black hair streaked with pink and blue.  She was pale and wore thick, dark eye make-up.  Her lips were a plastic pink color and twisted in a disgusted sneer as she glared down at her creator.

            Moreau suddenly perked up.  Either this woman was here kill him, or he could somehow convince her to work for him.  At this point, he found both possibilities equally satisfying.

            “You do look familiar,” he said, blinking the water out of his eyes.  “Tell me, did I have the pleasure of experimenting on you?”

            The woman laughed harshly.  “Oh, you had the pleasure alright, you sick little man.  You turned me into a freak.  Before I couldn’t sing to save my life.  Now I can sing, but I also take a life.  You sick, sad little worm, you!  You’ve ruined everything!  You killed who I was and turned me into a murderer!”

            “Really?” Moreau said, raising his eyebrows and smiling in delight.  “Well, that was the idea behind my original experiments long, long ago.  Tell me, how does it feel?”

            The woman blinked.  A lock of blue hair fell over her right eye.  “How does it feel?” she asked.  “How does it feel?”

            Moreau blinked.  “Yes…that was the question…”

            The woman’s mouth worked for a moment as if she wanted to speak, but she could not find her voice.  She found herself actually trying to consider Moreau’s question and give a serious answer.  Honestly, she had to admit that despite the pain she was causing and problems the changes had caused, she felt pretty darn good.  She felt…powerful.  Her old, dead self never had this kind of power.  She enjoyed the feeling immensely, and she craved more.

            “It feels…fantastic,” she said finally, a thin grin twisting her pale face into a mask of sadistic delight.  It seemed for the moment that she might not kill Moreau after all.  There was a light in her eyes as she spoke that he found very much appealing.  It was a familiar gleam, one he recognized as having seen in his own reflection just days—weeks? months? years?—ago.  This woman thirsted for knowledge and power just as he did.  He could relate to that feeling, and more importantly, he could use it.  Moreau nodded as he realized this and leaned forward to the edge of the bathtub.

            “You’d like to learn more, wouldn’t you?” he said, making an effort to sound authoritative and appealing despite his undignified position.  He was delighted when the woman’s grin broadened, and she nodded in response.

            “I knew I was right to choose you,” he continued.  “I knew the moment I saw you that you were the right one for this project.  So few appreciate what they have been given through my labors, but you…you are special.”

            He was lying through his teeth and knew that at any moment she could kill him, but she seemed to be buying his bullshit regardless.

            “Unfortunately,” said Moreau, “my files were stolen when the building was evacuated.  But no matter, I can show you much more than what was in my files, my dear.  I can help you learn to harness your power for so much more.”

            The woman’s smile was so wide and hideous that Moreau actually had a hard time holding her gaze.  Still, he needed a hound of his own to help track down the dog-girl, and he wasn’t about to blow this chance now.

            Finally the woman nodded.  “Yes,” she said, talking as much to herself as she was to Moreau.  “Why not?  I think this could work out just fine, yes.”

            Moreau smiled broadly.  “Excellent.  And your name, my dear?”

            “Aria,” the woman replied.  “I’m the Diva of Destruction.”