Chapter 18

Hell's Gate police force and special units prided themselves on being the best of the best. They have to be with the rest of the country turning a blind eye to what many believe to be the actual gates of Hell. Nationally, they are ranked equally amongst the most elite forces. These men and women are faster, stronger, smarter, and skilled beyond precision.

And then there was their chief.

Chief Wilson was a short, stout man. If he was ever healthy and fit in his youth, there was nothing to suggest that now. His large round belly sagged over his pants, causing his shirt buttons to work overtime to stay closed. He had grey thinning hair and was clean-shaven maybe a few days ago. Despite his unsavoury appearance, he walked in with an arrogant swagger, his whisky nose held high as he entered Grace's office.

"Chief Wilson," Scarlett said, announcing him to Grace and Archer. She looked uncomfortable and withdrawn. It took a lot for Scarlett to hide in her shell. Scarlett wasted no time leaving, and as she did, Grace watched Chief Wilson check out Scarlett's ass, and heard him make a faint grunt of approval.

Then he turned his beady eyes on Grace who suddenly felt like she wanted to hide too. He made her skin crawl and she was thankful that Archer wanted to be there. She stayed seated, while he stood behind her.

"You're the victim?" Chi ef Wilson said curtly before he sat down in front of Grace's desk.

"This is Grace," Archer intervened.

"Pretty name," he remarked, while he slowly took Grace in, not bothering to hide where his eyes landed and lingered.

Grace crisscrossed her cardigan and folded her arms across her chest.

"The information," Grace said impatiently. The sooner this man left, the better.

"Right," he grunted. He placed his folder on the desk and shot Archer a disgruntled look before he continued. "Dimitri Blackburn. Now deceased. Was a warlock."

"All information we know," Archer stated.

Chief Wilson grunted again.

"You, Miss, are not the first woman he has picked up from a dating app. We found two women, around your age locked up in his basement. There are a few other disappearances that he could be connected to, but we aren't certain yet."

"Oh my god," Grace gasped quietly.

Archer placed his hand on her shoulder for support. The warmth from his palm was calming, and his thumb moved in circles, helping to ease her anxiety.

"Maybe if you women tried to meet men in person and not off the internet, we wouldn't be having these problems," Chief Wilson muttered, while he flipped through his documents.

"Did he just…?"

"Victim blame you? Yes, yes he did," Archer finished for her.

"Now now, let's have none of that talk. I'm just saying that the internet has made my job a lot harder," the chief said, his tone condescending. "As I was saying, we recovered the two women. He told them that they were to be sacrifices for the next super moon, or blood moon, or whatever moon got him off. They both met him online, were dr ugged, and woke up in his basement.

"He told the women a lot. Their sacrifices would make his power grow, and he would be able to make all humans suffer or end the world or something. Honestly, does it matter?"

"Are they alright?" Grace asked.

"Yeah yeah. He didn't like, you know, touch them if that's your concern," the chief said waving his hand in dismissal.

"One of many concerns," she mumbled.

Archer squeezed her shoulder in understanding.

"You were the last piece of the equation. He had a redhead and a blond but needed a brunette."

Grace was quiet as she processed how close she had come to dying.

"Was he working with anyone? Did he have a coven? Family? Friends? Anyone who would go after Grace now?" Archer asked.

"No. All evidence points to him working alone. The other two victims never saw anyone else and he kept going on about how everyone would regret underestimating him or something."

Grace sank back in her seat.

"That's a relief," she breathed.

"The funny thing is that even if he got you back, and, well, you know, it would've all been for nothing. Turns out the blonde was a bleach job. Curtains don't match the drapes, if you get what I'm saying, so it wouldn't have worked," the chief chuckled as he closed his folder.

"How the hell could you find the death of women funny," Grace snapped.

She was finished listening to the misogynistic ramblings from this poor excuse of a man and was going to tell him where he could shove his chauvinistic opinions. But when she went to stand up to confront him, Archer pushed down on her shoulder, keeping her in pla ce. She twisted around, to tell him off too, but when she looked at him, his eyes pleaded for her not to do anything. He gave her shoulder a soft squeeze.

This isn't over , she thought, her eyes conveying the silent warning.

"Now I didn't say anything about murder being funny," the chief clarified. "I was talking about the circumstance. He understands," he said, nodding to Archer.

Archer responded with a cold blank stare.

"So what you're saying is that if Grace is under threat, it isn't about Dimitri," Archer clarified.

"Open and shut case," Chief Wilson concluded.

"If you'll excuse me," the chief said as he stood from his chair. The movement half-winded him, and he took a minute to gather his breath before he continued. "Now that your girlfriend got her precious information, I have real police work to do."

Grace was vibrating.

Archer kept his firm grip on her shoulder.

"I'll let you see yourself out," Grace seethed through clenched teeth.

"Hopefully that cutie secretary of yours can help me find the exit," he said as he winked at Grace, causing her stomach to stir.

And throw up a little in her mouth.

Before Chief Wilson reached the door, it flew open, slamming hard into the door stopper.

"Pig!"