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Easter Six and the Deadly Dowsing

Part 3

For bbbuuu

By Draconicon

"I'm telling you, that's not fucking possible."

Dowsley groaned as his sleep was banished, the border collie opening one eye and fixing it on Easter as the rabbit argued with someone on the phone. Judging from the sheer vehemence in his voice, it was probably headquarters.

"Yeah? Well, you can shove that idea right up your ass. If you had seen the bodies, you'd know that a werewolf is way too small to pull off injuries like that."

Yep. Definitely headquarters. They wouldn't be talking about something like that on a different line. Dowsley shook his head, slowly rolling onto his side rather than on his back. He watched as Easter was left almost hopping-mad as he kept talking to the people on the other end of the line, and the border collie shook his head as he saw the rage climbing higher and higher, Easter turning his back on him and leaning over the hotel-room desk. The way that it pushed his ass out - still only dressed in a pair of briefs - did nothing to help him get his morning wood to go back down.

"I'm telling you - you're not listening to me! Do you need me to get Dowsley to tell you the same thing? I'm telling - oh, fuck off."

Easter hung up at that point, and he turned around and leaned against the desk with a groan. Somehow, he wasn't any less attractive from the front, though that might have something to do with the rabbit not suffering from the same morning affliction that Dowsley was.

"Ugh..."

"Having some trouble with headquarters?" Dowsley asked, closing his eyes.

"According to them, the only supernatural in the area on record is a werewolf on the edge of the suburbs."

"Too far to travel to do a kill like this."

"Not if he drove, they said, but..."

He nodded. It would mean that the shifter would have driven out here, shifted into his were-form, killed three random guys, and then shifted back, driven off, and pretended that the whole thing had never happened. It was an unlikely story at best, and it was another case of HQ not understanding how this worked in the field. They didn't understand the logistics of it, just the possibilities that they were paid to come up with for agents to chase down.

He reached for his pants, pulling them on under the covers before kicking his legs off to the side. As he pulled his shirt back on - his runes were designed to keep them clean as well as to keep him protected - Dowsley stretched his head left and right, cracking his neck a few times before he got to his feet.

"What's the plan, then?" Easter asked.

"You're asking me this time?" He smiled. "What happened to not wanting to take orders?"

"There's a difference between not wanting the drudge work and not wanting to take orders. If I don't know what I'm supposed to do, I'm going to ask. That doesn't mean that I want to be told to do the work that you don't want to do."

"Fair enough. Well, as you were so politely telling headquarters, their plan is not particularly likely to work. My plan - and it's a better plan - is to get another look at the church in daylight, and then start looking for that gang. If we can find them, we might be able to get a little more information."

"Even though they're blaming Shane for the killing?"

"He might be responsible. Unlikely, I know, but it's possible."

"Yeah...pretty unlikely."

"I know. But he is one of the only ones I can think of that might have a motive, let alone an actual way of doing it."

"Anyone else on your mind?"

"One. But I'm not going to put much money on that just yet."

"Let me guess."

"I'd prefer you not."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Because it'd ruin my opinion of you as a small-brained NA."

Deliberately smiling to take the sting out of the joke, Dowsley finished pulling his jacket on and pulled his weapons on. A pistol on one side, the magic stick on the other formed the core of his arsenal, and he had a number of other little tools that were tucked into his sleeve. There wasn't an SBI agent in existence that didn't have a custom jacket of some sort with the different runes that amplified their skills and covered the weaknesses that they had.

His black jacket, in addition to keeping him clean, had several silver threads through it that were meant as garottes, but there were other spells too. There were mufflers in the sleeves and front of the jacket, meant to blunt blows coming from those directions. There were spike-creators in the back of his jacket, meant to keep vampires and others from getting too close from behind. There was even a flame-shield that he could create in desperate measures, though he preferred not to use that.

As he holstered his weapons and adjusted his jacket, Easter did the same. The black rabbit had his pistol holstered, the giant six-shooter looking huge compared to the smaller duty-pistol that the border collie carried. Dowsley knew the punch that pistol had. It was one of the bigger handguns that the agency had in the armory, and as far as he knew, Easter had checked it out on his first day on-duty and had never checked it back in.

The big silver six-shooter had a much thicker barrel than average, and that was entirely down to the bullets it shot. While they were still smaller than the 'desert eagle' bullets that most of the mundane world considered the highest-power bullet, they were still bigger than average, and they were packed with all sorts of nasty ingredients that would send anything supernatural scurrying for cover.

He'd seen the tapes. That gun had taken down a werewolf with one shot, and due to it being a core shot, it had been a rather messy...implosion.

Of course, Easter was supposed to be a rather well-trained NA to begin with, but he hadn't seen any of those moments yet. He imagined that he'd have to be the one that dealt with the bigger threats.

Now that they were both dressed, he nodded toward the door, and they walked out of the hotel. It was a quick trip across the street to the cathedral, and Dowsley was surprised to see that the graffiti had already been cleaned away. Considering the paint that he'd seen the day before, he'd thought that it had already soaked in.

Click. The door to the cathedral opened, and the squirrel from the day before - Samuel, he remembered the name - stepped outside. The little guy met their eyes, and then looked away.

Interesting.

"Excuse me. Samuel?"

"O-oh. Sorry. I was just..."

"Cleaning up?" Dowsley asked. He nodded at the wall. "Looks like you did a good job."

"Well. It's a bit...there's more further along. I just want to get it done before Shane sees. You know? Make it easier for him."

"You care about him a lot."

"Well, he saved me. And...and this place is important. Really important. Really old, really strong, really...really really."

The squirrel shook his head, then seemed to put on a smile. He looked up, almost like he was making an effort to look at them.

"I'm sorry. You were the ones that chased them off last night, right?"

"I was, yeah," Easter said, nodding.

"Thanks. I...They were doing bad things, and they didn't need to do that. Shouldn't do that."

"Are you okay, Samuel?" Dowsley asked.

"I'm fine. I'm fine! Just wanna clean up. It'll be better soon. I know it'll be better soon."

"Is that because of Shane?" he asked, gently as he could. "I know that he cares for you and the building, but I don't think that he can do much about the gangs. Unless he was responsible for the bodies, in which case -"

"HA!"

The squirrel laughed, barking the sound so rough and gruff that he almost sounded like a different person. He giggled for a moment before shaking his head.

"No way. Shane would never do that to anyone. Yeah, a few of them died. So what? They'll just cause more trouble until someone else gets rid of them."

"You don't seem too bothered."

"Why should I? They would have killed me."

"Did you call the police? Or Shane?"

"You'd have to ask him that. Anyway, um. Gotta work. Excuse me."

The two of them nodded, and the squirrel walked around the edge of the cathedral with ladder, buckets, and cloths in hand. Shaking his head, the border collie leaned over to whisper.

"Rather uncaring, isn't he?"

"He's got reasons, but...yeah. He's your other suspect?"

"He's got as much motive."

"But not so much means."

"We'll see..."

It was difficult to be sure about anything around the cathedral. In other places, away from the witch-burning locations, he would have been able to tell if they were in trouble. He would have been able to tell if they were dealing with something supernatural in Samuel or Shane. Instead, all the burnt-off magic of the ages meant that it was impossible for him to smell out anything but the burning remnants of what had once been, and the more recent burning power of whatever it was that had caused those deaths. He had to focus on that more than anything else, or he would lose that particular trail.

"Shane'll be here all day," Easter pointed out. "Shall we hit the alleys, see what we can find?"

"Think the gangs are going to be that stereotypical?"

"They were painting 'Killer Priest' on a church. I don't think that we're dealing with anyone that had much of an imagination here."

"Good point."

They slid across the street, finding one of the wider alleys. Dowsley remembered going through these before; there were a number of vampires that liked to pose as drug dealers to get their victims in close, and there were other supernaturals that liked to use the alleys of the big cities as ways to hide, to get out of the way of the public police, and to lose the SBI oversight that they were supposed to be working with. It was part and parcel to the job to check them, but he didn't like doing it.

The tight quarters made it difficult for someone to check every nook and cranny as they went on, and he knew from experience how hard it was to clear them when you had to get rid of everything that was hiding down the tight corridors. He knew that there were always nooks that you missed, cracks where the dark things could hide. That was why one always did it with a partner, at the very least, but he imagined that they'd still find some sort of surprise.

They walked around for a while, just casually strolling through the alleys until Easter's ears pricked up. Dowsley leaned in, faking a stumble to speak quietly.

"Got something?"

"Yeah, four of them. Just behind us. Setting up an ambush in a couple of turns."

"Good. Keep the gun down, and I'll handle them."

"You sure?"

"We want information, not bodies."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm better than that, but we'll do it your way."

He nodded, and they continued. One turn, two -

And there they were. Two mutts, one calico cat, and one bat that were all jumping out from around a corner. Two of them had guns, one had a spiked bat, and the last had a knife, all of them aimed and trained on the two agents.

Dowsley didn't feel particularly worried. That sort of weaponry was easy enough to get out here, but not only did the runes protect him and Easter, but he doubted that they were very well-trained in their use. They looked like average punks, the sort of people that picked up something to intimidate someone else rather than someone that used it on a daily basis. Or even a regular one.

The one with a knife - the bat - stepped forward, smiling as he held the blade under the border collie's chin. The metal was just shimmery enough to look particularly sharp, though not that dangerous to someone that was used to that sort of thing. He arched an eyebrow at the bat's grin, though. They were definitely cocky.

"Heh, so these are the punks that thought they could stop us from putting that priest in his place, huh? You know, not so smart to come around the back-alleys when we're around."

"I didn't know you were around, but that does shorten the search a bit."

"What, you some kind of cop?"

"Something like that."

"Heh. You're going to have to do better than that. You got a badge or something, 'cop'? You better believe you're not getting out of here with your wallet..."

He shook his head, finding it rather tiresome to be dealing with someone that was this out of touch with reality. It was almost boring, in a way, which was an odd thing to be thinking when you had a knife pressed under your chin and a rather psychopathic bat looking at you like he wanted to cut you up and leave you dripping.

Before he could respond, however, the calico looked at Easter, and he recognized the look. He'd had the same one last night when he was jerking off about the rabbit being on a leash, and he felt his hackles rise.

"Hey, guys..."

The calico tapped his bat against his palm, walking up to the black rabbit. He tapped the end of the bat against the rabbit's chest, poking him.

"I think we got something better than money with this one."

"...Heh, you know, you might be right," one of the mutts said. "He's got a good little ass on him. Maybe he can wiggle that thing down to the safehouse."

"Yeah, wiggle it down there in the buff," the other dog said. "What do you say, bunny? Care to wiggle those buns along for us? We'll even let ya keep your stuff if you strip down for us right now..."

Dowsley surprised himself with just how angry that made him. It was different than a threat to one's life, something that he had expected, but to threaten Easter's dignity like that, to push the rabbit that way...

And in front of him...

While Dowsley was barely keeping his lips over his fangs, Easter looked almost bored. He looked like he was indifferent to the proposal, almost like he was considering it. The rabbit tapped his chin a few times.

"Let's see. You want me to strip down, wiggle my ass, and then go with you - naked, still - down the street to wherever you punks call home, and then let you guys do whatever you want...just to keep what's in my wallet?"

"You got a problem with that, bunny boy?"

"Yeah, actually."

And with blinding speed, Easter combined a kick to the calico's knees with a sudden grab of the baseball bat. The rounded butt of the bat got shoved forward, right into the cat's ribs, and the blunt end of the spiked bat spun around as he tossed it in the air. He disarmed one of the gunmen with that strike, too.

The moment everyone's eyes were on Easter, Dowsley made his move. He brought his hand up under the grip of the knife, smashing it up and out of the bat's hand. His other arm cracked into the bat's ear, boxing it and setting it ringing, possibly deafening the guy.

He caught the knife on the way down and threw it, and the toss caught the bullet from the other mutt's gun right as it left the barrel. They bounced off each other, the bullet going who knew where, the knife embedding itself at the mutt's feet. The mutt stared at him, eyes agape, and Dowsley pulled his jacket to the side, showing the gun at his waist.

"Do you want to try for it, punk?"

"Ah...you..."

The bat at his feet tried to get up, to run, but Easter swung the spiked bat around, catching the punk in the chest and bringing him to the alley wall. A little pressure pinned him in place, and there was no getting past the spike that had almost taken the thug in the chest.

Smiling, the border collie nodded at the bat, not taking his eye off the still-armed mutt.

"Leave him, and the rest of you go free. What do you think?"

"..."

Click, clack, clatter. Guns and knife skittered across the alley floor as the dogs and cat ran for the hills, leaving their one gang member behind. Shaking his head, the border collie let the edge of his jacket fall back over the gun.

"No loyalty in the slightest."

"Better for us that that's the case," Easter muttered.

"Probably. Still."

They turned to the bat, who was completely terrified. His eyes were wide, one ear folded back as if it was still ringing. Probably was, considering how hard Dowsley had hit it, but that was something that they would deal with later. For now, he had something else that he needed to get done.

"Now...you and I are going to talk..."

"Nnngh...you...what the fuck are you?"

"Some sort of policeman, I believe is what you said."

"Yeah, but...but cops don't..."

"They do. But we're worse."

Dowsley allowed himself a slight, toothy grin. He knew that the gang members were used to the more abusive cops out there, knew that they had horror stories about what cops would do to people like them. He wanted the bat to think about that, and he wanted the little punk to think about every little thing that someone worse could do to him, too.

It seemed to work. The bat started pissing himself almost immediately, whimpering, shivering.

"Nnngh...I'll tell you what you want to know."

"Good. Now. First off. How many people in your gang died?"

"Three. Larry -"

"I don't need names."

Three. That basically confirmed that the dead at the morgue were the same ones that had died from the church attack. They had all but confirmed that already, but it was good to be sure.

"So, what the hell made you think that you'd have an easy time threatening the priest, hmm?"

"Hey, he started it."

"Really? Do you want to try and say something that stupid to me, of all people?" Dowsley asked.

"Nnngh...He should have just ponied up the protection money, man. That was all he had to do. When he started fighting..."

"You had to make him understand it wasn't allowed, huh?"

"Yeah. You don't mess with gangs. Gangs mess with you."

"So you went back, hmm? After beating up a little squirrel, and then trying to take on someone that thrashed you that hard, you thought it'd be a good idea to go back?"

"It was late at night. They said that they wanted to, you know, have a chance to take the priest down when he wasn't looking. Teach him a lesson, break a few windows. You know."

"So what went wrong, hmm?"

"I don't know."

A nod at Easter, and the bat sagged against the large chunk of wood pressing against his lungs. Pressing rather hard against them, now, firm and rough and all too heavy. The bat gasped for breath.

"Nnngh! I don't know! I was just the look-out. I was gonna keep an eye out for cops. And then..."

"Then what?"

"I...I heard a scream. I came running, and I saw...I saw blood. Blood on the grass, and that fucking priest standing around."

"That's it?"

"Hey, if a priest was willing to break his promises and beat us up, I bet you he could kill, too. I bet the bodies are stashed in the church, too, hidden where no-one but him can find 'em."

"...I see."

It was a possibility, he had to admit. There was something supernatural, perhaps even magical going on, and that meant that there was someone powerful beyond their physical appearance in the area. Likely in the church, too, though that wasn't completely sure. The trail led there, but it also led all over the place.

"Anything else?"

"No."

"Looks like a bit of a dud here, doesn't it?"

"A bit...but he can be released. We don't need to fill up the cells with dead weight."

He gestured at the rabbit to let the bat go. As the pressure on the night-flyer's chest eased off, however, Dowsley grabbed him by the throat. The border collie leaned in, narrowing his eyes.

"Just make sure to tell that calico one thing. Don't ever try something like that again..."

"G-got it..."

"Good."

He almost threw the bat away from him, and the little guy scrambled away, shouting that they'd pay at the top of his lungs. The border collie shook his head, fluffing out his jacket a few times and straightening his tie. As he settled everything back in place, he was aware that Easter was looking at him with an eyebrow cocked up.

"What?"

"That was stricter than usual for you."

"Yes."

"Rougher, too."

"So?"

"Just wondering if it's going to be the new you. Not sure if I like it or not."

Dowsley opened his mouth, then shut it again. The last thing that he needed to do was make it more awkward than it already was and tell Easter why he'd been so angry. Considering how it was going between them right then, he didn't want to start making it that much worse. They'd only just started liking each other again.

#

They went back to the cathedral, and weren't too surprised to find that the ladder had been taken down, the front of the cathedral completely scrubbed. One of the windows had actually been replaced, too, which meant that Samuel was probably done for the moment. All the better, in Dowsley's mind. He wanted to keep Shane from being too distracted when they were talking.

They knocked on the door, and the St. Bernard opened it, greeting them with a smile.

"Hello, hello. I didn't expect to see you back already."

"We wanted to make sure that things were okay," Dowsley said. "And my friend wanted to make sure that you didn't need anything else."

"We're fine, thanks. If anyone comes by, we can handle ourselves."

"Why not call the police, by the way?" Easter asked. "Seems like a lot of work."

"The hand of God will be enough for us," Shane said. "And besides, I don't believe that it would help."

"Heh. I'm starting to wonder what you'd do if the gang called the police on you, considering that it was their friends that died."

"...Then I would have problems, yes," Shane admitted. "Not because of guilt, mind you, but because of those that shelter here."

"Shelter?" Dowsley and Easter shared a look. "What do you mean?" the rabbit asked.

"Samuel and several others live here with me, part of the church and part of our little community. They aren't all...stable, and some of them have records from their time on the street. Nothing violent, for the most part, but enough to get them in trouble if the police were to come knocking on my door."

"You're watching out for them?"

"I believe that they have the chance to redeem themselves, much as the church does."

"From the witch burnings?" Dowsley asked, and the St. Bernard nodded.

"The church has done horrible things in the pursuit of holiness, and all I can do is try and bring it back the other way. With every bit of good that we do, I hope and pray that it brings a little bit of peace to those that died all that time ago."

That explained a little, but not much. He'd known about the witch-burning, but there was more to it than that. The smell would have been particularly strong around the entire area with that, but with the good deeds permeating the hate that had been left behind, that meant that it made the whole area that much more muddled. The scent was getting hidden behind something else, particularly with the latest use of this strange power.

And the more he smelled, the more he felt that it was a creature in addition to just something powerful. There was more than a shifter responsible for this, and he needed to figure out what it was.

"Do you think that we could talk to Samuel? He seemed to have a lot to say earlier...and a lot of hate to let out."

"He has reason; he was beaten nearly to death when they first found him, when he stood up to them. I imagine that he has a great deal to overcome before he can offer anything in the way of forgiveness."

"If he ever should," Easter muttered.

"If you don't mind..." Shane looked between them. "Why do you want to talk to him? You said that you're in town for the weekend, a business trip, but..."

"The meetings keep getting delayed, and this is a hell of a lot better than staying in the hotel room all day," Dowsley said.

The priest arched his eyebrow again, but didn't say anything. The conversation, however, was most definitely over.

As they stepped back into the hotel room, tossing their jackets over the hooks by the door, Easter shook his head.

"That was a horrible lie, you know."

"Well, I didn't see you coming up with anything."

"I was letting you take the lead."

"Next time, if you got a better one, use it."

They groaned as they flopped out, him on the bed, Easter on the seat by the window. The whole thing was starting to feel bigger than he was ready to handle, and he honestly didn't know what they were going to do about this.

They had two major suspects. Shane and Samuel. Both of them had reasons to see the gang members dead, and both of them worked at a church that was responsible for a great deal of witch burnings in the old times. Considering the magic that still burned in the area, it was entirely possible that the church had retained some of the magical items that the witches of old had. The SBI had recovered several stashes in the past from raids on them - never in Salem, but regularly elsewhere - but this might have gone overlooked.

Then there were all the different people with records in the church proper. SBI records hadn't been as thorough as they should have been out here, and he didn't know what they would find inside.

This is getting out of hand; we're going to need back-up if this goes much longer.

But he wasn't sure if they were going to get the chance. The more that he tried to focus on his own abilities, on tracking the thing that was out there, the more that he felt it growing. That sense of magical burning power was growing stronger, and that meant that there was a very big chance that something was going to happen, and soon. Another death, perhaps, or a sacrifice to encourage the power to grow stronger.

Whatever, whoever had summoned this thing, they weren't done with it yet, and they were feeling scared. They were going to act again soon.

"You alright taking first watch?" Dowsley asked.

"Sure."

"I'm going to take a shower."

Easter nodded, and he rolled off his bed, making his way to the hotel shower unit. He grumbled as he pulled off his clothes as soon as the door shut, and he turned on the water as hot as it would go. He felt like he needed it tonight, particularly after...that.

He remembered the calico, still, remembered how they had talked to Easter. He remembered how it had felt to think of Easter being dominated by someone else that way, to see the black rabbit wearing someone else's leash, of walking down the street in the buff, showing off his muscles and ass and...

The dog growled as he got under the water, letting the hot current blow away some of his tension, even as his cock started to rise up thinking of Easter stripping out there on the sidewalk. The idea of having that level of authority...

Just wondering if this is going to be the new you.

He remembered Easter saying that, but this time, it was twisted in his head. The idea that the rabbit would like a rougher dog in charge of him, hit him harder than a ton of bricks. His cock throbbed up as he imagined giving into the feral instincts that he tended to keep at bay, the idea of slamming the rabbit down and showing him what it was like to have a hunter over him instead of a -

Not this time, cock, not this time.

A flick of the wrist twisted it from hot to cold water, and Dowsley barely managed to cover the howl.

The End