How to Hunt a Menacing Magical Shadow

by Christine Schulz

  How to Hunt a Menacing Magical Shadow

  Book 1 ∙ Black Sheep Series

  Christine Schulz

  Copyright © 2020 Christine Schulz All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  4No334 part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13 // 978-1-7352474-1-0 // eBook

  ISBN-13 // 978-1-7352474-0-3 // Paperback

  Cover design by: Christine Schulz

  Printed in the United States of America

  Chapter 1

  “Y ou’re in my way, idiot.” A boxy woman behind me stood with her arms folded tightly across her chest, ferociously staring at me as I ripped open a sugar packet and poured it into my coffee. Her uniform was flawlessly ironed, from her dark blue button-down shirt to matching navy dress pants. Even her oxfords were nicely polished.

  “Good afternoon, Officer Foster!” I replied in an overly enthusiastic voice. “Just a second...”

  I picked up another sugar packet and meticulously tore it open, tapping the packet and sprinkling it into my coffee one sugar crystal at a time. She expressed her frustration with a loud exhale, and I couldn’t help but give a satisfying smirk as I paraded toward the door with my coffee in one hand and cupcake in the other. She mumbled something unpleasant under her breath.

  “Have a fabulous day!” I smiled and raised a toast with my coffee cup as I exited the break room. The second she was out of sight my shoulders slouched and my face went back to its usual blank expression. I did my best pretending their antics never bothered me, but I just couldn’t help to let their repulsive behavior get to my head. My short fuse was pretty well known across the station. In fact, I was on thin ice with the captain for a few...mistakes.

  I shuffled down the aisle of cookie cutter metal desks, each officer glowering at me like I was a dead man walking.

  “Why are you staring? Is there something on my face?” With my hands occupied, I shrugged my shoulder, pretending to wipe something off my chin. I was met with an assembly line of eye rolls until I reached my desk in the back corner of the office.

  The cheap rolling chair groaned under my weight, a testament to my love for delicious sweets, including the monstrous red velvet cupcake I snatched from the kitchen begging me to consume it.

  I glanced down at the crumbs that dropped onto my lap. My uniform was not as flawless as Officer Foster’s. I brushed my hands down my shirt to flatten out some wrinkles with my hand while simultaneously sweeping away the crumbs. A brownish red stain was prominent across the front breast pocket of my button-down shirt from some ketchup that squirted out of my burger last week. I was at the station trying to catch up on work all weekend, and for the few short hours I was home I wasn’t about to spend it doing laundry.

  I sighed at the mountain of paperwork on my tiny office desk, piled so high it was like a paper fortress surrounding me. I moved some files to clear a small space and placed the paper coffee cup next to my computer keyboard.

  I grabbed a manilla folder from the top of the stack on my right just as someone replaced it by throwing another one on top. My paper fortress came crashing down, my coffee cup a casualty of the invasion. Piping hot liquid cascaded onto the keyboard and raced its way to claim the folders next to it. I glanced up to see a potbellied man who’s had one too many donuts retreating away from me, twisting his bald head around to say something.

  “I need those done today.” The officer shoved half a donut in his mouth and kept walking until he was out of sight. I mentally laughed at my prior assertion. Cops really lived up to the stereotype here.

  I raked my hand through my messy chocolate brown hair and pulled on the ends of my curls in frustration. “Keep it up and the only Captain title you’ll ever get is Cap’n Crunch,” I mumbled softly to myself, then took some napkins from my desk drawer to sop up the mess. I rubbed my eyes, dark and sunken in from lack of sleep. Almost lunch time. Maybe I could go find a locker to shove myself into and take a nap.

  “Attention, everyone!” The whole office instantly fell silent. In unison, everyone froze in place and locked their eyes on the captain who was trotting down the stairs from his office. He stopped on the last step to give himself some extra height. Even standing on the stairs, the only thing that stood out from the back of the room was his overly gelled, spiky blonde hair sticking up over the sea of people standing around their desks.

  His voice erupted, overwhelming the room with his grating voice.

  “Arcane Enterprises is holding their annual MagiCon event next week, and it’s all hands on deck for security patrol. As you know, these events draw tens of thousands of magic technicians and organizations from around the world. With this many people in one place, we need to make sure the event stays organized and we keep everyone safe at all times. All officers are to be on high alert and fully aware of their responsibilities during this event. Further details on assignments will be sent to your email.”

  Arcane Enterprises, a magiceutical company dedicated to producing magic objects, hosted a massive magic conference each year. My mom used to attend, sometimes speak, back in the day.

  There was a brief pause when he stopped talking, then the noise picked up again as the busy officers carried on with their work. The captain was storming his way down the aisle.

  “Officer Cotter, with me.” He slammed his hand down on the corner of my desk, not bothering to even look at me as he passed right on by. I got up and followed him, entered an empty office, and shut the door.

  “Have a seat.” He motioned to the padded metal folding chair in front of him. He sat down on the other side behind the desk in an elaborate leather office chair, leaning back while tenting his fingers, enforcing his dominance over me.

  “Something wrong, Captain Fletcher?” That was usually the only reason people ever spoke to me. That, or I was finally getting the boot for my contemptuous behavior.

  “Adrian, I’m going to get right to the point. We are short staffed as it is, and this event is big for us. I know you’ve never been assigned to work security like this after...that incident...but I’m putting you on patrol for this event. I need to know you’re up for this and you won’t cause any problems.” He wasn’t really asking so much as demanding. The darkness laced in his voice suggested a warning. If I made even the slightest mistake, I could kiss my job goodbye. Who knew how long he’d been waiting for the perfect opportunity to get rid of me.

  “Of course, Captain Fletcher. I’m ready to assist the team in any way I can.” He nodded, got up, and left me sitting there by myself in the empty room. I pressed my lips together and made a discreet fist pump as I celebrated in silence. Most of the time I was assigned to direct traffic during construction and respond to fender benders—the safe jobs that were pretty hard to screw up. If I wasn’t doing that, I was entering endless amounts of paperwork into our system.

  The day went on. I kept checking the clock as each painful hour passed, absorbing the insults and judging glares, and shooting them right back to anyone who passed by my desk. After what seemed like forever, my shift had ended. I packed up my bag and was about to give up for the day when I heard a soft hissing sound coming from behind me.

  “Pssssst.” I twisted around to see Nolan peeking through the doorway. He waved his hand, gesturing for me to follow. I trailed behind him up the back stairwell to the second floor, watching him disappear into
his lab. As I reached the top of the stairs, my shoulder collided with a six pack of brick walls rounding the corner, causing me to stumble backwards and nearly tumble back down the stairs.

  “Watch where you’re going, dickhead,” a raspy voice beamed down at me, the smell of nicotine burning my eyes.

  Insult number thirty-six of the day—that I knew of anyway. I tried to stay professional when other people were around, but it was only a matter of time until that bubble of anger burst and exploded with a nuclear bomb of rage. “Oh, that’s all my fault. I didn’t realize your head was so far up your ass you couldn’t see where you were going.”

  Thankfully, there was no such thing as magic laser beam contact lenses or his turd colored eyes would be making smores with my melted face. I could already see this wouldn’t end well. His sausage fingers reached out and grabbed my shirt collar, yanking me against the side wall. He leaned in, his pointed nose inches away from my face. His grip was so tight I could barely breathe.

  “What did you say, rookie?” he grunted in a low voice. My legs went limp, the heels of my feet slightly lifting off the floor. The air slowly escaped my lungs. Let it go, I told myself. When I didn’t respond, my assaulter spoke. “Hmph. That’s what I thought. Don’t go picking fights you can’t finish, pussy.”

  “I’d rather be a pussy than an ass like you.” I managed to huff out, deciding I wouldn’t let it go.

  I thought it was rather funny. He unfortunately didn’t. He squeezed his grip tighter around my collar, the scratchy fabric burning through the back of my neck. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about it, but his brazen laugh and the intense urge to punch his face was all that swarmed my brain. I was seconds away from passing out when the captain came out of his office heading in our direction. The officer relaxed his grip and slowly I began to breathe life back into my lungs. I stumbled on my feet as he let go of my collar and gave me a backwards shove into the concrete wall.

  “Lieutenant Daley,” the captain nodded as he passed by.

  “Captain Fletcher,” he returned the nod.

  The captain glared at me, the unenthused expression in his eyes seeming to suggest that whatever was going on, it was probably my fault and I deserved whatever was about to happen. That’s the way it always was around here. Everyone turned a blind eye and took every opportunity to blame something on me. The worst part was the captain didn’t care...no one did. As long as it didn’t interfere with any important police work, he couldn’t care less how I was treated.

  My head snapped back to Lieutenant Dickhead after the captain disappeared down the stairs. He made a fist, pointed his index finger at me, and jammed it into my chest.

  “You’re a useless idiot and a disappointment to everyone here. Do everyone a favor and stay out of the way.”

  I tugged on the bottom of my shirt to flatten it out and continued on my way to the lab. I dealt with crap like this every day, so I was quite used to it by now, although it never got easier to endure. I learned a long time ago not to bother fighting back. Physically, anyway. I wouldn’t win a physical battle with anyone here. I was a five foot seven dud. Never bothered to go to the gym, and instead of donuts, I ate at least one cupcake a day. Not to mention, the one time I did manage to get in a punch, the guy went crying to the captain and I was written up for misconduct. But words? If you knew what triggered someone, you could fight back without lifting a finger. And hopefully without getting hurt...too badly.

  “What’s up?” I entered the room to see Nolan tidying up the mess that was his lab. He always reminded me of one of those mad scientists you see in movies, wearing the same white lab coat over his polo shirt along with the same white gloves he always used for work. His silver eyes matched his short speckled salt and pepper hair along with the scruff on his face. It was fitting for our Director of Forensics, and now Magic. I never questioned why, but he was the only person in this building who was ever nice to me.

  “What was that about, my friend?” He picked up a bunch of paperwork and threw it into the trash. I guess that was his way of organizing.

  “Oh, you know. Just a friendly conversation with a fellow co-worker. Would you believe he invited me out for drinks later with the guys?”

  Nolan snorted at the sarcasm, then walked over to a spot in the corner of the room. The perimeter of the lab was lined with specially made laminate countertops, so white it blinded me when the lights above reflected off it. In the center of the room was a large metal table with tall shelving stacked in the middle for storing all sorts of lab equipment. You’d think a science lab would need to be kept clean and tidy, but this one was a complete mess. I have no idea how he ever got any work done...then again, I wasn’t in any position to chastise.

  “Check this out.” Nolan lifted a majestic looking pistol with such care you’d think it would combust by giving it the wrong look.

  “It’s the new MP-Vanquisher, the first magic gun soon to be issued to law enforcement officers. This one’s actually a prototype, and thanks to the magic bullets, it can be used with multiple types of spells. There’s an air bullet that could knock someone off their feet, while a magic energy bullet could act like a Taser and paralyze your culprit. You can even shoot a car or a person with a tracking spell and track that magic energy output through our system to find a specific location. Here, check it out.” He was salivating like a hungry dog as he extended his arms to hand me the gun.

  I stared at it for a moment in both terror and awe. On one hand, new magic was unstable magic...maybe it really would spontaneously combust. On the other hand, it was a beautiful piece of weaponry that could change everything we know about how police officers carry out their jobs. The production of magic items had come a long way since its discovery nearly thirty years ago, but there was still a much longer road ahead until it became mainstream and reliable.

  I hesitated, then accepted the gun from his hands.

  “Wow...” I cautiously gripped the pistol, flipping it left to right, up and down, inspecting every inch of it. For the most part, it looked like your typical police issued handgun. However, on the plate of the magazine, the exposed part after it was inserted into the gun, were etched words to activate those particular magic bullets.

  “Why don’t we have some fun with it? I hope you don’t mind, but you’ll have to cancel your date with Lieutenant Daley. Meet me at the shooting range in an hour.” Nolan retrieved the gun from my hands and carefully placed it back into its protective case.

  “Nah, I can’t...I’m exhausted—” He gave me a firm slap on the back.

  “No excuses, my friend. Besides, you can use some help controlling magic and you know it.”

  I did. Me and spelled magic objects got along about as well as toothpaste and orange juice, and just like their non-magic counterparts, magic weapons were equally as dangerous, especially when used incorrectly. Magic was now a part of our society. As a part of this new and uncertain transition into the world of magic, officers were expected to adapt to always be at the top of their game or else get sidelined. Unfortunately, I kept striking out.

  I thought about it for a moment, then gave in. “Alright. See you there in an hour.”

  There was no sense in going home, so I walked back downstairs to my desk to get some more paperwork done. I tapped away on the sticky keys of the keyboard, courtesy of the portly messenger assaulting my paper fortress this morning. I got caught up in finishing a report when I noticed the time. Crap. I should have left fifteen minutes ago.

  I scrambled to pack up my things, slung my bag over my shoulder, and shut off my computer. On my way out, I gave a mental middle finger to this hell hole, and scurried toward the front entrance. Overall, there was nothing overly exciting about this particular police station. Everything was boring and falling apart. Our equipment was ancient, the desk chairs were dented and ripped, and no one really knew what the original color of the floor was supposed to be.

  As I passed through the lobby, I caught a glimpse of the dusty
decorative metal letters spelling out Lorith City Police Department popping against the dull canary yellow wall. I may suck at my job, but I was still proud of what I was doing. Even though my career was on track to be about as successful as an armless man at arm wrestling, I had to believe my parents would have still been proud of me.

  Both my parents were well respected individuals with promising careers. Key word there is were. Unfortunately, both of their careers ended early when a car accident took the lives of my dad and younger sister when I was eight.

  My mom, a genius scientist who pioneered the path for advancing magic, followed a year later in what I always thought to be a suspicious death. She died a day after a routine checkup to charge the magic implant in the back of her skull. The one that delivered neurological pulses to her brain allowing her to use the parts of her body that were rendered useless after the accident. They ruled it a faulty magic device, given that it was an untested prototype, but I heard the whispers of rumors saying she was actually working on some secret, unsanctioned magic project. And someone wasn’t thrilled about it.

  Although I loved magic and science, I couldn’t bring myself to take over where she left off. Instead, I followed in my dad’s footsteps. He was a household name in the city and a true hero to its residents. A talented lieutenant, he took down the Black Mark, one of the city’s largest, most dangerous criminal organizations.

  I wished to be a hero one day too. Instead, I became a punching bag for physical and verbal abuse—a useless police officer who could never live up to the standards his dad had set. Most days I sat in the office doing paperwork and taking statements from crazy old ladies who couldn’t find their cat. The closest I came to actually becoming a hero was finding and rescuing one of those furballs once.

  “Creep.” I snapped out of my trance and realized I was standing in the middle of the lobby like a broken robot, staring into oblivion. I found the source of the voice across the room, the receptionist squirming uncomfortably in her chair. She must have thought I was staring at her. I threw her an eye roll as I turned a heel toward the door. No heroism for me today.