by Antara Mann
“Hello, Sergeant Griffith,” one of the officers greeted the fae, respect evident in his voice.
“What do we have so far?” Kagan asked as he approached the corpse, with me following him closely. The flavor of magic reached my senses — it was the same as at the first murder scene, a very distinct dark magic. This was sorcery, as clear as day, and in that instant I knew both murders had to have been committed by the same perpetrator. We had to catch him before he committed another gruesome murder.
One chubby middle-aged cop heard the fae’s question and turned to us. “Well, apparently the victim has been a hobo in Queens for years. We have to wait for the coroner’s report, but at first glance, it seems he died from blood loss from a stab wound in the chest. No one seems to have seen or heard anything. We’ll check the footage from the surveillance cameras to see what we can find.” The cop hesitated before adding, “As you can see, there is some kind of symbol carved into the victim’s chest.”
“Do we have a time of death?”
“Probably in the early hours of the morning. A passer-by discovered the body around half an hour ago — it was hidden in a dumpster. After we get the autopsy results, we’ll know more.”
“All right. Call me when the medical examiner’s findings are in,” Kagan told the policeman, and handed him a business card. The cop glanced at it and nodded, then Kagan turned and headed quickly down the street.
“Wait, where are you going?” I called after him and had to scurry to catch up with him yet again.
“I want to question any other homeless people in the area,” he replied, still pacing forward and looking around.
“The cops have probably already done this, or are working on it. Can’t we just ask them?”
“I prefer to question them myself. I have my own methods.”
“Okay then. Even if we find anyone, do you think they’d have any information?”
“It can’t hurt to try. I find it particularly strange that no one has seen or heard anything. I would imagine the poor man screamed bloody murder.”
About three blocks later, we saw a few beggars sitting on the sidewalk. One of them, a woman who appeared to be in her forties, was drinking beer and speaking to one of the others, a man.
“Oh, what do we have here?” the woman said, raising her hoarse, husky voice and then cackling with insane laughter. Obviously, she was as nutty as a fruitcake. She looked like a hag but had no trace of magic. I didn’t like the feel of her energy, but at least she was a human. If she’d been a supernatural, she would probably have been a pretty nasty witch.
“Spare some change?” One of the men beside her stood up and came over to us. He was almost six and a half feet tall, about the same height as Kagan, and burly.
“Sergeant Griffith. Officer Shaw and I are investigating the death of a man who we believe lived around here for quite some time. He was killed early this morning. Did you know him?”
The big man froze on the spot, then grunted, “I don’t do no business with cops. I don’t know nothing,” and walked away. The woman, however, smiled at us, showing blackened and broken teeth.
“I’ll talk to you — in exchange for a dollar or two.”
I glanced at Kagan. Chances were she knew nothing, and besides, I didn’t know how reliable she was. But Kagan ignored my look, and took out a ten-dollar bill.
“Do you know what he was doing last night? Or did you notice anything unusual in the small hours?” the fae asked her.
She gave another cackled of insane laughter and said, “I might know or I might not know. Who knows?” The woman clasped her hands, her eyes gleaming with delight. She seemed like a total whacko.
I pulled Kagan aside and whispered, “Leave her — I seriously doubt she knows anything. She’s totally nuts.”
“Well, a little bit of charity won’t hurt, will it?” he replied in a low voice, and turned to the woman, taking out a ten dollar bill out of his pocket. “Will this refresh your memory and help you remember?”
She licked her lips and reached to take the bill, but Kagan drew back his hand, keeping the bill out of her reach. “Uh-uh. First you’ll tell us what you know, and then you'll get your reward.”
She swore and reluctantly said, “Okay, fine. His name was Craig — at least that’s what I called him.” She chuckled. “Poor guy — he lost his memory, didn’t remember anything about his past life. Anyway, we fucked now and then.” She laughed again, and Kagan urged her to continue with her story.
“Last night, though, he took off somewhere, said he had some business. Simon was looking everywhere for him. Never did find Craig, but he found a couple of boxes full of food dumped about five blocks from here, over on Brown Street. He called Larry” — she pointed at the tall man — “and told us to come over and eat up. So we didn’t see or hear anything last night.”
“Called him? You have mobile phones?” I asked in disbelief.
"Honey, everybody has a cell phone,” the woman snickered.
“That’s not of much interest to us.” Kagan glanced at me and went on, “At what time did you have that ‘feast’?”
She thought hard for a few moments before answering. “After midnight. Probably around one.”
“And that's all you know?” I asked, my disappointment clear in my voice.
“Sh,” Kagan said, then handed the woman the bill. “You earned your money; here it is,” he said, and motioned for me to follow him.
“Are you nuts? She lied — she said she knew something but she didn’t know anything at all,” I snapped when we had moved away, leaving the woman with her reward.
“I beg to differ. We know now that Craig left his friends for some reason. It is quite possible that the culprit lured him away with either money or food, and then, when one of the homeless guys went to search for him, distracted the rest of the group with a few packages of food.”
I didn’t know what to say. I hoped Brendan and Carlos would have better luck in uncovering something of interest to the investigation. That thought had just crossed my mind when Kagan stopped in his tracks, his face sterner than it had been a moment before. I’d seen this look twice today; it meant he was receiving a new mental message, either from the Council or from Brendan or Carlos.
Chapter 10
“I hope we have better luck this time,” I muttered, sitting in the Hellfire Club. The stark neon lights in the hall were making my eyes hurt and giving me a mild headache. There was something deeply hellish about this place, even without taking the name into account. It was already eight p.m. and the four of us — me, Brendan, Carlos, and Kagan — had spent the past few hours “in the devil's den,” as Carlos put it.
Brendan and Carlos hadn’t seen anything of significance all day. They had arrived at ten thirty, and kept an eye on the premises until the establishment opened at noon. Except for a bartender and a few drunken low-level wizards, they’d seen no one else in the club. When Kagan had gotten the call from the Council and had to leave me, I’d joined the shifters. The club wasn’t as impressive as in the evening; there were no sparkling lights on the ceiling, and the runic symbols looked dull. Everything seemed very different — almost ordinary.
There’d been a different bartender on duty. He was a mage too, though a weak one. The shifters had already questioned him about the sorcerer known as the Rune Keeper, but he claimed he had never heard the name before.
In the late afternoon, much to my relief, we’d gone to get lunch at the Lucky Leprechaun; I was famished. I’d ordered myself a pizza Margherita, a magic pastie, and a few magic raw bars. Even Brendan had stared at me in disbelief as I devoured the food. He’d asked about the new murder, of course, and I described everything Kagan and I had seen at the crime scene.
“So seems like it really is the same culprit,” he said thoughtfully and sipped his beer.
“I am afraid so,” I agreed.
On our way out, Brendan had taken the opportunity to question some of the supernaturals in the restaurant
about the Hellfire Club, but with no luck — the clientele was entirely different. Only one witch said she had been there, but she hadn’t ever heard of the Rune Keeper. Then we’d gone back to the Hellfire Club to meet the fae.
For the past few hours now we’d been in the club, watching and occasionally chatting with the growing number of supernaturals. The werewolf was still in a shitty mood; I knew Brendan very well and his face told me everything. Although he would never have admitted it, my ex was a beta male to the core — yet another reason not to be dating him anymore — and having Kagan bossing him around was driving him crazy. The fae was under pressure from the Council, just as Brendan had been: They had contacted him mentally to inquire how the investigation was proceeding, and wanted him to check in once a day.
By now, the club was packed. There were a dozen vampires in here, their fangs showing while they conversed with each other or with other customers. There were also incubi present, of course, as well as dark wizards, but I didn’t see any sorcerers. One vampire came over to me, probably to flirt with me, though he would have been disappointed. He definitely wasn’t my type. I was about to tell him to get lost when Kagan intervened, and asked if the vampire knew of any sorcerers here.
“Are you fucking kidding me? We vampires are not the most social of species, if you know what I mean.” He chuckled and his eyes gleamed a deeper reddish color. When a few of his buddies approached us, the fae repeated the question to them. The reply, as I expected, was negative. The vampires, however, seemed determined to talk to me, and two of them ordered me a martini.
“Now look what you’ve done,” I scolded the fae under my breath, so our new companions wouldn’t hear us. “How are we going to get rid of them? If I spend any more time with them, I’ll get drunk.”
The fae only chuckled and said, “Just watch.”
Moving nearer to the vampire who had first spoken to me, Kagan put his hand on the monster’s shoulder and, concentrating hard, connected with his magic. I felt it too: Potent and ancient, like songs about dragons or forever-lost old worlds, but this time quite soothing, like a lullaby or rhythmic ocean waves at night. It calmed my strained nerves. The fae exchanged only a few words with the vampire before the latter nodded, his energy and the expression on his face completely changed. He went away, his cronies in tow.
“Wow, impressive,” Carlos muttered. “Good job, bro.”
“A piece of cake,” Kagan said. “It’s rather fun here, actually. I like it. This place reminds me of Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller.’” His eyes gleamed in the dark blue-brown light of the club. “Most of the magical creatures here are mediocre, but together their powers become strong.”
Weirdo, I thought to myself.
Kagan turned to me and said, “I know you like me, Alex.” He smiled at me.
Hell! He really could read my mind!
“Good news. The bartender we talked to last time is on shift,” Brendan said, interrupting my surprise. Heading to the bar he said, “Hey, dude, how ya doin?”
The bartender’s face lit. “Ah — the lady who blasted Roy, the womanizer! If you’re looking for him — ”
Brendan cut him off. “No, we’re not looking for him. We’re looking for a sorcerer who goes by the name of ‘the Rune Keeper.’ Does that ring a bell to you?”
“Depends on how badly you want to know,” the bartender chuckled, showing his teeth. “I’m a hard-working guy. As we discussed yesterday, I’m happy to share my wisdom with you — in exchange for a small monetary reward.”
“How is that? A thousand dollars — enough?” Kagan had taken out a wad of hundred-dollar bills and put several on the bar. The bartender’s eyes gleamed with excitement and greed.
“I think I know someone who can help you,” he said, reaching for the bills like a predator going after his prey — which suited his nature as a big-cat shifter. Sticking the money in his pocket, he looked around, then said, “Do you see that slim guy over there? His name is Jimmy. I’ve seen him talking to some creepy guys you wouldn’t want to cross paths with, and I think I’ve heard him drop that name once or twice.” He nodded and reached for a bottle of whiskey, and began preparing a cocktail for another customer. I had turned my gaze toward the guy he indicated. Calling him slim was an understatement — the guy was as thin as a stick. He was also quite young — he didn't look a day over twenty-three.
“That guy?” Brendan asked, mistrust clear in his voice. He turned to the fae. “I think you just wasted a thousand dollars.”
“He wasn’t lying, was he?” I asked glancing at Carlos. My magic told me the bartender had spoken the truth.
“Apparently no, but he could be wrong, anyway,” Carlos replied.
“Let’s go and check it out. I’d like to ask him a few question. Shall we?” Kagan made his way through the overcrowded dance floor, bumping into supernaturals left and right. I noticed that nearly all the women in the club turned their heads after him. A few succubi tried to talk to him, their magic dangerous and alluring, but he was unfazed. He pushed them away with a strong hand, their magic no match for his. I was glad — I didn’t want him getting distracted, like I had when the incubus had tried to seduce me. Damn it! Who was I kidding? I didn’t want Kagan to be with anyone in here. A realization struck me like a thunderclap — I had a crush on him. Shit! Wasn’t there enough going on already, with two ritualistic murders? Did I have to add falling for a powerful fae?
You don’t even know this guy. Better keep your guard up, the voice in my head told me, but I pushed it aside.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Kagan asked the skinny boy when he drew near enough, putting on a false American accent which made me chuckle inside. The boy turned to Kagan, surprise evident in his eyes.
“Who the hell are you, and what do you want?” he snapped. I guess politeness wasn't his strong suit. I sensed nervousness and anxiety in him, though. And he wasn’t a supernatural. This was getting more and more interesting.
“We’re looking for someone called the Rune Keeper, and we’ve heard you know about him. Can we talk about this in private?” Kagan asked.
I saw a faint smile flash in the boy’s eyes, and in the next instant he had flung a stool at the fae and was running away faster than I would have imagined for such a skinny guy. Then again, maybe that was how he was able to move so quickly — he had no excess weight.
We all took off, hot on the boy’s heels. To chase someone in such a tightly crowded spot was quite a challenge, especially when the customers included vampires, dark wizards, incubi, and succubi. A few times as I pushed someone aside I felt electricity go through me.
“After him, faster! Don’t let him escape!” Carlos shouted at Brendan. My ex had shifted into his wolf form and was racing across the hall, but the skinny boy ran like the wind.
He left the club, Brendan close behind him. Just a little more, and he would catch the bastard. I followed the shifters out to the street, the sounds of echoing footsteps and panting serving me as a guide since it was pitch dark. That was odd — last time there were neon lights outside the club and besides, we were in NYC. Suddenly, it hit me: The guy must have used magic to black out all the lights. I could create a fireball so we could see, but I was in a hurry and didn’t want to pause.
“Can you see?” Kagan asked, drawing up level with me. He didn’t slow down, but in the next moment a white light appeared in his right hand, illuminating the dark space around us.
“How did you do it?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me, then hastily added, “Never mind.” We were in hot pursuit and there was no time for chit-chat.
We crossed a few more intersections when Carlos and Brendan, who were slightly ahead of us, stopped. Then Brendan shifted back to his human form in the middle of the street, and turned to us, quite puzzled. “I don’t understand what happened — one second he was here and I was just about to throw myself on him, and in the next moment he disappeared. Poof! Just vanished into thin air.”
Before an
yone could respond, we heard a sinister cackle. Turning in the direction of the sound, we saw a gang of vampires coming at us. I counted fifteen of them, their eyes full of bloodlust and rage, gleaming crimson. Their skin, though, wasn’t as pale as that of common vampires. These were definitely not normal vampires — so what were they? Shapeshifters, summoned vampires, or something entirely different?
I tried feeling their magic: They didn’t smell of rotten meat and corpses, like common vampires, which only increased my concern. Suddenly a wave of fear and anxiety washed over me. Was that coming from me, or were the vampires causing these negative emotions?
“What was that?” Brendan said, looking at me and Kagan. I didn’t have to be a shifter to read his mind; I was thinking the same thing. This was a trap.
“I have no fucking idea, but I don’t like it at all,” Carlos said, drawing his gun. Brendan followed his lead, taking out his as well. I noticed these guns were different from the ones they usually used — the handles were encrusted with silver. Given the type of vampires we had bumped into, I was ready to bet the guns were loaded with silver bullets, which was a sure way to kill vampires. Good; at least we had ammunition against these monsters. Wooden and silver bullets have always worked against vampires — at least, against common vampires. Hopefully, they would work against these ghoulish creatures as well, whatever they might be.
“Stay positive, guys. Don’t let the fear creep in. They feed on it,” I said, and glared at them.
“Well, well. Nice to meet you, especially you, Miss Positivity.” The vampire in front of the gang spoke, saliva dripping from his fangs. Why do vampires always have to be so gross?
To make you want to kick them faster and harder, the voice in my head said.
“I hope you did enjoy your stroll, because it was your last one.” The vampire nodded to one of his comrades, and they charged us.
This is going to be fun, the voice in my head chimed in. I had to agree.
Chapter 11