Shadow Detective Supernatural Dark Urban Fantasy Series: Books 4-6 (Shadow Detective Boxset Book 2)

by William Massa

  Cormac nodded even if he didn’t seem one-hundred percent convinced. His eyes lit up with killer instinct as he released the Glock’s safety. Tonight, the psychic would get a chance to be a soldier again. But what was waiting for us in the cemetery was worse than any human enemy. We were about to step into the lair of a creature that was far older than mankind itself.

  Cormac’s gaze lingered for an extra beat on my gloved hand. It completely hid my long-nailed demon claw from view, but Cormac was probably wondering why I only wore one glove instead of two. Fortunately, he didn’t pry, his mind occupied with the grim task ahead. I made a mental note to wear two gloves in the future to avoid suspicion.

  I cocked Hellseeker and slipped off my protective magical ring. I hesitated for a second before I handed it to Cormac. Before my pact with Cyon, the ring had kept the demon in check. Since letting Cyon in willingly, such precautions weren’t necessary anymore. I wouldn’t be needing the talisman with Demon Slayer secured across my back, and I’d feel better knowing that the Seal of Solomon was keeping Cormac safe.

  Fully armed for battle now, I slammed the trunk shut with a grim sound of finality and turned toward the cemetery’s entrance. It yawned at us like the gates of Hell itself.

  “Let’s do this!” I said, trying to sound braver than I really felt.

  10

  Jennifer’s eyes fluttered open, reality snapping back into focus. Blinding light revealed a scene from her worst nightmare—she was back in the cemetery. She lay splayed out on a mound of cool soil while a shadowy figure was digging a hole in the ground a few feet away. Not just a hole, but a grave. And the figure in question was none other than the trench coat-wearing albino that Raven had identified as a ghoul, whatever that meant.

  Seeing the creature brought it all back. The attack in the institute’s parking lot, the vicious blow to the face, and the darkness which had followed. Suddenly, she wished she could return to that dark state of oblivion. Anything was preferable to the helpless terror she now experienced. She was at the mercy of a monster.

  Almost as if sensing she was awake, the ghoul pivoted toward her. Moonlight sparkled into those red-rimmed pink eyes, and the creature’s skin radiated waves of sickly luminescence.

  Her scream remained lodged in her throat as the ghoul lurched toward her. She wanted to move, but her limbs refused to obey her will. By the time she finally stirred, it was too late. The ghoul was upon her.

  She gagged as the creature’s fetid stench enveloped her, and the taste of bile stung her throat. Decay and mold clung to the beast like a ghastly shroud. She peered into the monster’s eyes. The blank gaze of a shark homing in on its prey met hers. But there was another emotion there. Beyond the hate and evil, there was a strange longing mixed with a sense of anticipation. The mouth distorted into a crooked grin. “The time of waiting is almost over.”

  And with these mysterious words, the ghoul pulled Jennifer toward the open grave. With horror she saw the open coffin in the ground, its surface marked by a series of exotic glyphs and runes that appeared to correspond to the markings on the temple-like mausoleum. A part of her marveled at her ability to take note of such details at a time like this. What did it all mean? Was this the last sight she would ever see?

  Her rampant speculation came to a sudden end as the creature unceremoniously dumped her in the open coffin. The smell of rotting flesh became overpowering. Terror surged inside her as she realized what would happen next. The ghoul was about to bury her alive in her father’s coffin. Before she could fight her way out of the box, the ghoul slid a heavy lid over the coffin, sealing her inside.

  She screamed as renewed darkness engulfed her but this wasn’t the blissful blackness of unconsciousness. No, this darkness promised even greater horrors. Confirming her fear, a green light filled the coffin as the glyphs etched into the inner lid pulsed to unholy life.

  For a moment, the blinding spectral light washed over her, basking her in its eerie glow. Then the coffin began to move. She could feel the casket sinking deeper and deeper into the ground, rapidly gaining momentum. Her terrified shriek rang out as the full horror of her situation sank in. She was trapped inside an express elevator headed straight to Hell.

  11

  The moon-soaked city of the dead loomed before us, a landscape of overgrown graves and forlorn crypts. Cormac and I were two lone souls braving a kingdom of the dead, ruled by a creature as old as time itself. A myriad of questions tormented me. Why had the ghoul ventured into the world of the living, why did the creature need Jennifer, the daughter of the man who once owned this place and now lay buried here?

  Or had been buried here, I mentally corrected myself. With the ghoul having claimed this cemetery as his feeding ground, I doubted many of the corpses remained. As sickening as this thought might be, I was currently more concerned with Jennifer. Her father was long gone, but she might still be alive.

  Remembering her earlier words, I took note of the strange symbols which adorned the headstones. It was certainly unusual, but it wasn’t clear what purpose they served. I wondered what Skulick would have made of these occult engravings, but I was on my own now, for better or worse. Well, not completely on my own. Besides Cyon, there was also Cormac. He had joined the ranks of monster hunters, at least for tonight. The psychic’s wary gaze swept the burial ground, hoping to come across a sign of the woman he cared about. The burning pain in my scar intensified with each step. We were closing in on the black magic that had grown roots in this place.

  As I continued to study the graves and the strange etchings, Cyon spoke up inside of me. “Fascinating. There is more here than meets the eye.”

  “What do you mean?” I said, my voice a whisper. Cormac looked nervous enough without having to hear me chat with myself.

  “It appears these graves are part of a greater whole,” Cyon said.

  I nodded, having drawn a similar conclusion. The markers were connected to each other in some mystical manner, almost as if each grave and its symbols formed the building blocks of some larger occult pattern. Like Stonehenge, the Carnac stones in France, the Dromberg circle in Ireland, and numerous other metaphysical sites across the globe. What strange, dark magic had Jennifer’s father tried to tap into here, and how did the ghoul and the young woman fit into it all? Did he need her to activate the magic contained within this cemetery? And what horrors would be unleashed upon the world if the ghoul should prove successful?

  Best not to dwell on the possibilities and instead focus on eliminating the problem at hand. Weapon drawn and ready, we continued to edge deeper into the spooky labyrinth of tombstones. My imagination conjured horrific images of the dead rising from their graves, and it required all my will power the shake off the vision. There were enough real horrors lurking here. I didn’t have to make up imaginary ones.

  A sudden sound up ahead gave me pause, and my gloved hand reached out for Cormac, stopping the psychic in his tracks. I brusquely pulled him aside, and we crouched behind one of the crypts.

  “What is it?” Cormac whispered.

  I nodded at the tombstone located about twenty feet to our left, where moonlight dimly outlined the pale figure of the ghoul. He was busy shoveling dirt onto a growing mound of earth. My first impression was that he was digging up a fresh body, and my stomach twisted in revulsion. Then it hit me. The ghoul wasn’t looking for his next midnight snack. He was filling a fresh grave. And that meant he was in the process of burying somebody.

  The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach told me it was Jennifer.

  Cormac tensed beside me, his eyes glittering with horror. He’d drawn a similar conclusion. But why would the ghoul want to bury Jennifer? It didn’t make sense. If she was dead, then he would presumably want to feed on her corpse. One thing I remembered from Skulick’s stories was the description of the bodies that had been gnawed on by the ghouls. There was rarely enough left over to put in a box. And if Jennifer wasn’t dead, why go to all the trouble of kidnapping her just to bury
her alive?

  I was still chewing it over, if you’ll excuse the expression, when Cormac reacted. Before I could stop him, he drew the Glock and targeted the monster. A deafening gunshot shattered the silence of the cemetery. Cormac hadn’t forgotten what the Army had taught him. The silver bullet hit the ghoul in his left arm, and the impact spun the creature around. A bloodcurdling shriek erupted from the monster’s throat. Seconds later, he darted behind another tombstone, vanishing from view.

  I cursed under my breath, and my hand tightened around Cormac’s throat, demonic rage bubbling to the surface. What a fool! Bringing Cormac along had been a terrible mistake. He had alerted the ghoul when I could have easily snuck up on the creature and finished him off with Hellseeker. Now I would have to track the creature in this godforsaken maze of death. This was the monster’s home—the ghoul would hold all the cards. This is why I was better off alone.

  Cormac gasped as the pressure tightened around his throat. I was cutting off his air supply. What the hell was I doing?

  Stop it, Cyon, you’re killing him, a voice inside of me spoke up. It sounded a lot like my voice—but if that was the case, then who was in the driver’s seat right now?

  For a beat, nothing happened and then the hand around Cormac’s throat loosened. The psychic gasped for air.

  “What the hell, Raven?” he wheezed, looking at me as though I was crazy.

  “The ghoul got away because of your stupidity. And now it knows we’re here.”

  My voice dripped venom. A part of me was stunned at the harshness of my words. I didn’t sound like myself.

  Cormac stared at me with bulging eyes, having drawn the same conclusion. I had changed since our last encounter. I wasn’t the same man anymore.

  You’re better now, Cyon corrected me.

  I did my best to suppress the demonic fire burning within me, but I felt sick to my stomach. “I’m going after the beast.”

  “Look, I’m sorry...”

  His apology trailed off as I whirled and tore after the ghoul. I was still disturbed by my own violent reaction but couldn’t dwell on it. Right now, the ghoul was of greater concern to me than my own mental state.

  I passed the freshly dug grave and hoped Cormac would reach Jennifer in time. If she was alive down there, how much air would she have? Hopefully enough to make due until Cormac dug her up. Her fate now rested in the psychic’s hands. I knew he would do anything in his power to save her. Hopefully it would be enough.

  I caught a glimpse of the ghoul rushing toward the mausoleum located in the cemetery’s center. It was far larger than the rest of the crypts. I was guessing the ghoul made his home in there. As I closed in on the oversized crypt, I couldn’t help but notice how three rows of tombstones surrounded the mausoleum in concentric circles. This wasn’t a random layout but part of some greater design. I had almost reached the crypt’s entrance when the glyphs on the tombstone started to glow faintly with mystical energy.

  Morgal’s mark gives me slight psychic powers, and I can pick up some paranormal phenomena. I doubted most people would have been able to see the surreal light show, which appeared to be growing in intensity as I approached. The runes and glyphs radiated waves of green-red light, each headstone humming with energy. I had the sensation that I was inside some vast, infernal machine that was just starting to warm up.

  Fighting back my growing sense of dread, I entered the mausoleum. In his haste, the ghoul hadn’t sealed the gated doorway which served as the mausoleum’s entrance, and I cautiously pushed it open. A gloomy chamber of death awaited me.

  My demonically heightened vision cut through the room, painting my surroundings in a crimson light. A series of coffins had been set into in the walls. A whole family appeared to be buried here. The lids had been pried open, and I refused to steal a glance inside. I might be part demon at this point, but my human half was still in charge. At least I thought it was. Most of the time. Regardless, I felt deep disgust. And below that a growing anger directed at the creature who had disturbed these dead people’s final rest by violating their bodies in the most horrendous manner imaginable.

  I prowled the mausoleum, searching for any sign of the ghoul. The albino beast had vanished into thin air. Where could the fiend be hiding? I received an answer a minute later when I took a closer look at the two coffins at the center of the mega-crypt. One was half open, and I fully pushed the lid aside. The coffin was empty but for a jagged hole at the bottom. The ghoul must have dug its way right into the coffin from below. I peered into the jagged opening, which was large enough for me to fit through.

  I hesitated. Should I really follow the monster down into his lair? Hunting it in the cemetery was bad enough, but the dark world below the graves belonged to the ghoul. This was the monster’s domain. His true home. I didn’t even want to think about the multitude of horrors that might be waiting for me in the darkness. My old self might have turned around and considered other options. The demon inside of me, however, refused to be patient. Buoyed by the confidence that came with my growing powers, I prepared to dive headlong into a world where shadows ruled.

  I was about enter a place of death. A place where monsters belonged.

  Fitting, on some level, since I’d joined their ranks.

  A low rumble shook the mausoleum. Dust choked the air. Whatever infernal magic the ghoul was activating, it was growing stronger. There really was no choice. I had to locate the creature and put a stop to this nightmare.

  Gun leveled, I slipped through the opening in the empty coffin and landed in what appeared to be a crude tunnel. The ghoul must have cleaved this space from the ground with his bare hands.

  I inhaled the stale, fetid air, fighting back a growing sensation of claustrophobia, and edged deeper into the blackness. The ground began to tilt as I navigated the cramped tunnel but started to level off after about twenty feet, leading into a warren of tunnels that stretched out like the filaments of a giant web. The ghoul had honeycombed the world below the cemetery, creating a complex network of passageways that probably led to the individual graves. There was only one reason why a ghoul would want to have easy access to the bodies buried here.

  As horrific as this place was, there was a mad logic to it all if one accepted the nature of the creature I was now hunting. What didn’t make sense was the act of burying Jennifer alive. Or risking everything to bring her back to this terrible place from which she had barely escaped a few hours earlier.

  The only explanation I could think of was that for some reason, the ghoul needed Jennifer to activate the magic that was rattling the cemetery. Dirt rained down on me and vibrations rocked the underground tunnels again. It was almost as if the graveyard was coming to life. Time was running out. Whatever magic the ghoul had unleashed here today had almost run its terrible course.

  More rocks tumbled from the ceiling, and I picked up my pace, my demon vision lighting up the dark tunnels ahead and mapping the way. It would have been easy to get lost in the labyrinth the monster had forged for himself, but I let Morgal’s mark guide me. If the pain in my chest started to fade slightly, I opted for another tunnel; if the agony increased, I stayed the course. The burning scar had become my compass, and I was sure it was pointing me in the right direction. I gritted my teeth as my chest throbbed and made my way down another tunnel, which began to widen with each step. I was drawing closer to the fiend.

  Less than a minute later, I emerged from the tunnel and entered a cavernous chamber. A mountain of junk dominated the space.

  As I drew closer to the strange collection and realized what I was looking at, my fear began to give way to renewed anger. The cave was filled with personal possessions. Watches. Shoes. Various pieces of jewelry. Discarded items of clothing. I even identified a pacemaker in the refuse. All of it covered in a fine film of dust and mud. These items all belonged to the dead buried here, the personal possessions they’d been interred with. It was ample evidence of how the ghoul had violated these people’s final resti
ng place. I suddenly knew that the ghouls mud-covered coat had belonged to one of the corpses it must’ve dragged out of its coffin. He fed on their flesh, then claimed their belongings.

  A scavenger.

  A parasite.

  As I studied the scene, I caught glimpses of something even more disturbing—human bones. Pile after pile of them, stripped clean of flesh. Boiling anger took hold of me. I couldn’t wait to have the ghoul in Hellseeker’s sights. I was looking forward to pulling the trigger and sending the beast to a Hell far worse than this chamber of terror.

  My fingers tightened on the grip of my pistol. Part of me was tempted to draw Demon Slayer, but that might be a tad premature. My pistol should be enough to end the ghoul’s miserable existence.

  As I looked for a way past the heaps of scavenged items, I spotted a leather-bound book. The tome stood out among all the other refuse, and as my hand reached for it, Morgal’s mark twisted with a fresh burst of agony.

  I rapidly flipped through the book’s pages. Even a quick perusal told me this was the real deal. I recognized bits and pieces of terrible rituals and spells I’d come across in the past. There were pages of names, many which were familiar to me. This book contained the names of demons. Like the Daemonium that Skulick had kept tightly under lock and key in the vault—until he handed it over to the White Crescent in exchange for the angel blood that had saved him and Archer from the curse of vampirism—this book was designed to conjure the beasts of the dark dimension. What other secrets were contained within its cursed pages? Had the ghoul stolen it from one of the graves…perhaps the grave of Jennifer’s father? After all, Robert Lamont had been a practicing occultist.

  But if this tome was crucial to the ritual the ghoul was performing, then why leave the book in the open like this, especially if he knew I was hot on his tail? Unless…