Frozen Embers by D. S. Novis (books to improve english .txt) 📕

Gabriel was too exhausted to get to his feet. All he could do was hold out his hands in self-defence. The wolf hit him with the force of a bus. It grabbed Gabriel across the floor. Gabriel closed his eyes, praying it would be over quickly. He waited for the pain to come. He waited for razor sharp teeth to rip him apart, for knife like claws to shred into his flesh.

But it never came.

The wolf let out an enormous, bloodcurdling yelp. Gabriel felt the crushing weight of the wolf lift off of him. Gabriel opened his eyes to see an intense bright light.

At first he couldn’t tell where the source of the light. It took up his whole vision and stung his eyes painfully. With a pang of fear he realized it was fire. The wolf had, seemingly spontaneously, burst into flames right in front of Gabriel. Gabriel recoiled away.

It thrashed around in pain, screaming with unimaginable agony, before falling to the floor. The sound changed seamlessly from an animal’s whimper to the unmistakable cry of a man’s scream.

Its fur melted from its body until all that was left the charcoaled remains of a man. The man twitched around madly and then went very still.

Gabriel stood there in bewilderment and shook with fear.

How had the wolf spontaneously combusted like that? He looked around for a source of a flame but saw none. Then he looked down at his hands. It couldn't have been him, could it?

The light emanating from his veins was dim but there was no mistaking that it was still there. Had his hands been hot enough to set the wolf on fire?

Then Gabriel realised what the wolf had been covered in, extremely flammable alcohol. He stared at his hands until the light faded.

Gabriel sunk to the floor. This was all too much too soon. He was only sixteen. He had so many questions that he needed answered. He sunk off, lost in his own thoughts, into a kind of trance. He barely noticed the sound of dozens of footsteps that had burst into the room. Nor was he aware of being lifted up to his feet.

Gabriel only snapped out of his trance when he felt something cold was being wrapped around his bruised wrists. Realizing with a jolt to the heart that they were handcuffs, he took in his surroundings. All around his were armed policemen, approaching him with caution.

Gabriel was being arrested.

“No, you don’t understand.” Gabriel muttered to deaf ears.

He was carried outside and lifted into the back of a police car whilst a hundred onlooking strangers gawped.

*

The police department's interrogation room appeared to be a poorly renovated, dingy cloakroom. It consisted of a dusty table with two chairs that sat on opposite sides. Gabriel sat handcuffed in one, staring its unoccupied brother. Though snow fell unseen outside, sweat beads dribbled down Gabriel's exhausted face. The result of a broken radiator. Pressed up against Gabriel's bare back, it turned the air hot and stuffy.

The only source of light, as there were no windows, came from a huge, conical shaped light that hung from the low ceiling. It swung rhythmically, to and fro like a metronome, seemingly from its own accord as no breeze was permitted to enter the hot room. The changing perspective of light swung the shadows of the small rooms components backwards and forward. This gave Gabriel the nauseating feeling of being on a rocky boat .A large mirror, riddled with minor cracks, eclipsed the south facing wall, doubling this sickening feeling.

The interrogation served the purpose it had quite clearly been designed for. Gabriel was isolated and defeated. He sat lifeless in the chair, as limp as a discarded child's toy. His head hung low in his solemnity. Hours had past since he'd been brought here, or maybe it was days. There was no clock in this room and with no visual access to sunlight it was hard to tell things like time.

He had no idea why he was handcuffed in an interrogation room. What had he done wrong? If he hadn’t killed those wolves they’d be loose around the streets of London right now.

Gabriel flickered in and out of an unbearably uncomfortable sleep.

Eventually, after Gabriel didn't know how long, the sound of locks clicking mechanically open stirred Gabriel to consciousness. The door opened but the room did not light up as Gabriel had expected. A large silhouette forbid any light from entering.The door closed and the unoccupied chair was pulled slowly and dramatically from under the table, its legs squealing defiantly against the concrete floor.

Gabriel's curiosity raised his lax head upwards. A fat, greasy face greeted Gabriel's eyes. It was Sergeant Brody, the police officer Gabriel had met at his sister's hospital bed. Brody had a small smile that bent the edges of his thick, bristly beard. A mixture of sleep and sweat irritated Gabriel's eyes. Realizing his hands were still clasped behind him, he resolved to hard blinking.

Sergeant Brody didn’t say anything for a long moment.

He pulled a cigar box out from his jacket pocket. But he did not pull out a cigar, instead it was a little white plastic cylinder. He put it to his mouth and inhaled with the noise of a small hoover. He had a look of great pleasure on his face, like he was trying to extract every molecule of air from it. Then he exhaled, his shoulders becoming more relaxed.

“You know I’m not allowed to smoke in an interrogation room any more. This is called an inhalator.” He gestured to the pipe. “Rather takes the authority out of an interrogation, doesn’t it?”

Gabriel said nothing.

“Do you understand the trouble you’re in Mr Hawks?” Sergeant Brody asked.

“What am I supposed to have done?” Gabriel clenched his teeth, holding back his ferocity.

“You are looking at four counts of murder and one count of arson.”

“What?!” Gabriel tried to yell but all that exited his mouth was a hoarse whisper. He tried to get to his feet but the chains forced him back. “I didn’t... They were...” His outraged thoughts seemed to be restricting his ability to talk. He couldn’t string a full sentence together.

“Please sit down, Gabriel." Brody said and patiently waited for Gabriel to cease. "Now, seeing as you’re a minor the jury may go easy on you if you confess to everything now.”

“Confess?”

"Yes, Gabriel. Confess to all of your crimes and the system will have lenience."

"Lenience?"

All Gabriel seemed to be able to say was a repeat of Brody's last words, like a parrot.

“Yes, leniance." Brody opened a paper file he'd been holding. "We know you killed your baby sitter, a Ms Clark. You killed her and a Mr West with a knife in your apartment. We know you set an as yet unknown man on fire in the restaurant. We also know that there is another unknown body at the bottom of the elevator shaft."

Brody had stunned Gabriel. 

"But there are witnesses, aren't there?"

"I have been given this assignment, and so it is up to me who I choose to interview or not. I want to hear the truth from you, Mr Hawks."

Gabriel sensed hidden meanings in Brody's sentence.

"What do you mean, the truth?" Gabriel asked slowly.

Brody lost his composure then. Slamming his fist on the table, his comb-over fell out of the neat, brushed style he'd had it in. His large bald spot now exposed, glittered the reflection of the bright light above.

"Don't act stupid with me boy!" His eyes were deranged now. "Where are the bodies?!"

"What bodies?" asked Gabriel, utterly perplexed.

"The four people you murdered!"

He grabbed a woad of paper from his case file and threw them at Gabriel. The pieces floated down to the table scattered.

"Six different police reports detailing the finding of the bodies, four coroner signatures that picked up the bodies." Gabriel looked down at the paper, with no idea on Earth what Brody was talking about. "Only thing is the bodies never made it to the morgue, but you knew that didn't you?"

Brody pointing an accusing finger at Gabriel.

"How did you do it? How did you make the bodies disappear? Why was there no evidence found at either of your crime scenes? Who helped you?!" He yelled the last question, his voice wild now.

Gabriel’s couldn’t speak. The bodies had disappeared. How was that possible? He felt he already knew the answer. Was this another mysterious cover up?

The Sergeant waited for a long moment but Gabriel still didn’t speak. Brody raised a chubby hand then, and for one wild moment Gabriel thought Brody was going to strike him. Brody's hand stopped at his own neck and wrenched off the golden chain that hung there. He slammed the chain to the table in front of the two of them. The golden cross Brody had showed Gabriel in the hospital glittered neath the interrogation lamp. 

"Death defying falls, winged men and werewolves. The supernatural surrounds you like flies to a steamy shit! Why is that?" Brody clenched his jaw tight and banged his hand hard on the table again. "I have to know!"

Gabriel knew now what Brody was really after. Brody had said it in the hospital. 'I'm a deeply religious man, Mr Hawks.' Here was a mystery that could prove the existence of monsters and mystical creatures, of heaven and hell, of angels and demons. It was a mystery that held all of Brody's answers about his faith. And for some inexplicable reason, unbeknown to even Gabriel, Gabriel was the common denominator. The key to the puzzle.

Unfortunately, Gabriel knew as little as Brody and had no answers for any of his own questions, let alone the Sergeant's.

There was nothing Gabriel could do. This was it. He would be going to prison, most likely for life. He hung his head as complete, bottomless dread swept over him.

“You realise you’ll be going away for a very long time if you don't tell me? I have to know what's going on here!" Brody reached his hand round to his right pocket and what Gabriel saw sent absolute terror through Gabriel. An old fashioned silver revolver was pushed down Brody's black trousers, it's wooden handle sticking out above his belt. Gabriel made to jump out of the chair, but like before was forced back down by the handcuffs.

"Tell me or I swear I'll-”

But what Brody was going to do, Gabriel never found out. For Brody's words were cut short by an emphatic knocking at the door. Manic with rage Brody turned, allowing his shirt to fall back over the gun. He wrenched open the door and light flooded into the room, illuminating every nook and cranny of the tiny space. An immensely relieving breeze swept over Gabriel.

Gabriel looked up.  A pretty and important woman barged her way past a red, sweaty Brody. She was blond and wore a very smart and expensive looking suit. Her hair was pinned back into a tight bun. Peering over silver glasses, she seemed to be looking everywhere in the room other than directly at Gabriel, as though fascinated with the small room.

Two men then followed behind her and too crammed themselves into the now overcrowded room. One was tall and muscular, with spiked brown hair, and the other was short with long orange hair and freckles.

“Who are you?” Brody demanded.

“I’m Agent Jones. This,” she gestured to the big man “is Agent Halls and this,” she gestured finally to the ginger haired man “is Agent Smith.” All three showed Sergeant Brody small, official looking cards displaying identification.

“We are here to inform you that this case has been transferred to MI6. We apologise for any inconvenience. The London police service has done an exceedingly good job as of yet and we are very thankful for that.” The woman said.

“What? You can’t just come in here and take over. This is my case!” screamed Brody, going even redder.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” The woman said politely, as though not listening. The other two men