Available Darkness Season 1

laying on top of her, blissfully sucking every memory and emotion she’d ever had in fast forward as her body burned and convulsed beneath him. He fed slowly, wanting to savor every moment. On the plus side, she would live longer, but on the down side, those moments would be excruciatingly painful. He didn’t normally kill during the day, but she was worth it, strong, happy, fulfilling.
    A siren blurted, breaking the moment, and Jacob glanced up to see a police cruiser behind them.
    “Shit!” he said, leaping up and jumping into the van as it took off. He spun around to see two officers jumping out of the car, rushing to help the still burning woman on the ground. They were too perplexed to give chase, trying to put out the fire.
    “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Jacob shouted as he pounded a fist into the floor of the van, upset that he’d been so careless to be seen. Even worse, he’d left a body behind so close to John. Jacob glanced back through the rear windows and saw one officer covering her with something as another ran to the car, no doubt to get a fire extinguisher. He wondered if the girl was still alive. If so, she’d be the first meal he’d left in such a state.
    And then, as the jogger’s memories continued to swirl through his brain, he saw something which terrified him. Something he should have seen in the memories he’d stolen from Rebecca Ashby, but was too hungry, too impatient, and had missed.
    The jogger had worked with Rebecca Ashby.
    He thought he’d played things safe by feeding on Rebecca but leaving no trace behind. Nobody could connect her death to him, or a feeder, if they never found her. She was just another missing young girl, one of thousands. But now, he’d left a victim which had been found, and could be connected back to Rebecca.
    It would only be a matter of time before the Guardians would be crawling all over the town. They’d make connections. John would find out that a feeder was in town and would no doubt flee. Jacob couldn’t let anything come between himself and John. He’d come too far and waited too long to get back home.
    If he didn’t act soon, John would vanish. Again.
    It was time to find his long lost brother. And maybe Jacob would get a taste of Hope.

    TO BE CONTINUED…

::EPISODE 5::
    CHAPTER 1 — Caleb Baldwin

    October 3, 1999
    Anchor Harbor, Washington

    Caleb stared at the glossy evidence scattered across his kitchen table—crime scene photos of the charred remains of a six year old boy, Billy Wilkens, one of the many suspected victims of a serial murderer found on the West Coast within the past six years. No matter how many times he’d combed the case in the two months since he’d been brought on board, nothing made sense.
    The boy had been thought missing, taken from his bedroom in the middle of the night on September 19. The media went apeshit, speculating that his single mother, Evelyn Wilkens, who’d fallen asleep drunk that night, was somehow responsible. When searchers found the boy’s body two days later (his remains so charred, positive identity couldn’t be confirmed without DNA proof), media scrutiny magnified on the mom.
    Caleb had an uncanny ability to spot even the smallest lie in the biggest ball of yarn. After interviewing the woman, he knew with unwavering certainty that the woman had approximately dick to do with her son’s murder. In all likelihood, someone had entered the apartment—the door had been accidentally left unlocked—and taken the boy without waking her from her stupor. Nothing else linked the case to the string of murders his unit was working on. This was, in fact, the first incident of a child being murdered by the serial killer(s).
    Why this boy? Why a child at all? What kind of monster would do this?
    While some local officers wondered if the murders were linked to the media-named Torch Killings, ( fucking media had to give everything a clever name ) the FBI refused to make the link official, even if Caleb was growing certain that the killings were the work of the same person.
    Last night, the case took a rather stunning turn. Talking heads on the local and cable news channels were hungry for someone to point their fingers at. Lacking a named suspect to pin the blame on, they turned their poison on the boy’s mother. Reporters practically pitched tents on her doorstep, haranguing her with incendiary questions, asking why she’d left the door open, why was she drunk, how often did she get drunk, why was she