Available Darkness Season 1

PROLOGUE — A Boy Long Ago

    He was a child when he first learned of monsters.
    He was lying in bed, pillow clutched over his head, trying to drown the muffled sounds of his parents fighting downstairs. His father was drunk. Again. Violence was electric in the air. The current’s ripple caused his hairs to stand on end.
    It wouldn’t be long before the sounds of screaming were replaced by cries and the sickening sound of flesh bruising flesh. Perhaps his father’s bloodlust would be sated. Maybe the boy’s door would burst open and the battle would be continued on the second floor, again.
    He prayed in vain to a God he long ago stopped believing in.
    Please, stop him.
    The house fell silent. That meant one of two things. Either his prayer was answered or, more likely, the monster was coming for him.
    The boy pulled the pillow from his head and strained to hear the sounds of footfalls on stairs. He closed his eyes tightly and braced for what was to come. He would pretend to sleep. Sometimes it worked — sometimes monsters could be fooled.
    He heard the door creak open behind him and tried to camouflage his rapid breathing so the monster wouldn’t know he was awake. Light bathed the wall in front of him. And in that light, like a dark stain promising so much violence, the shadow of the monster.
    The boy nudged his face deeper into his pillow and focused on his breath.
    In, out, in, out. Nice and slow.
    The door closed with a whisper casting the room into darkness.
    He waited to hear retreating footsteps, but heard nothing. He was certain the monster was in the room with him — Waiting.
    He could feel his father’s hateful eyes on him.
    In, out, in, out — just pretend and maybe he’ll go away.
    He wasn’t sure how long he feigned sleep, but it seemed like forever. Suddenly, he heard his father’s voice again downstairs, followed by his mother’s crying out.
    Surprised, the boy figured he must have fallen asleep and missed his father leaving the room. Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t alone — that eyes were still on him. He slowly turned over, eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep. He took one more breath, then risked opening his eyes.
    The shadow in the corner of the room wasn’t a shadow or a man, but it slid across the wall and hung in the air like a cruel mockery of both.
    The boy screamed.
    The memory, like a bubble, rose and broke as it crashed to the surface …

CHAPTER 1 — Caleb Baldwin

    October 20, 2011
    morning…

    FBI Special Agent Caleb Baldwin narrowed his tired eyes at the charred bodies as his team processed the crime scene: Two bodies burned through, wearing clothes that were barely touched by flames, in a house also untouched by fire or smoke.
    “You ever seen anything like this?” Oakview Police Chief Arnie Williams asked.
    It was too early for dumb questions. Why else would he be here if he wasn’t investigating murders where the victims were in this exact condition?
    “You’re the one that responded to our memo, right?” Caleb asked, attention still on the bodies.
    The chief looked down at his shoes, chagrined.
    Caleb was maybe 20 years younger than the town’s police chief, who was on the wrong side of 60. But it was Caleb who carried the jaded look of a man who’d seen five lifetimes of action. He also wore the look of a man who was used to calling the shots and waiting for the yes sirs! Which is exactly what he got when he and his seven member team arrived, brushed the locals aside and locked down the crime scene.
    “So, do you guys have a profile of the unsub?” the chief asked, a nervous half-smile flirting with his lips.
    For the first time, Caleb turned his head to meet the chief’s eyes.
    Williams was no different from the other cops Caleb usually met when he arrived in small towns like this. Eager police looking to show their little knowledge of serial crimes to the FBI agent. Caleb wasn’t sure which he liked least, the small town lapdogs or the asshole city cops, who wouldn’t cooperate until Caleb put the fear of God into them. Since the lapdogs were easier to control, he decided he liked them more, but just barely.
    Besides, this case was still fresh and he might need the chief’s cooperation if another body popped up soon. So he swallowed his annoyance and responded.
    “We’re still working on the profile, but we’ll keep you in the loop,” Caleb lied, holding the chief’s stare for a long moment until the old man