“Why did you do it?”
No answer was forthcoming. She stepped up to the window, and her form seemed to lose substance, merging with the light spilling in from outside.
“He doesn’t love me anymore,” she said, her voice tinged with a palpable sadness. “Maybe he never did. Maybe it was all in my head. Or maybe the ritual changed him. All that matters to him now is revenge…”
I let her words sink in. Love had motivated Gould’s actions. Somehow, she must’ve believed that a reunion would be possible with her dead lover. Unfortunately, once she finally provided him with a host body that could hold his spirit, he’d cast her aside, driven by an undying need to go after Archer and Ballard. Her love scorned, she had opted for suicide. Had she foolishly believed their spirits would be reunited? My answers would have to wait. At the moment, there was only one question that mattered.
“Where is Engelman now?”
“I don’t know.” Suddenly her voice grew confused. “Who are you? What are you doing here? What do you want from me?”
The candles in the bathroom flickered violently.
I stood my ground as a gust of wind whipped through the apartment. Gould’s spirit wouldn’t be at peace until someone reversed the ritual that bound her spirit to the place of her death.
It wouldn’t be me.
The parapsychologists had lured innocents to their doom. She’d crossed the line. She wouldn’t be receiving any help from me.
Almost as if Gould had read my thoughts, she shouted, “Get out!”
I happily obliged.
14
I left Gould’s apartment and immediately headed back to headquarters, eager to share what I’ve learned with Skulick. Archer was impatiently pacing back and forth in the loft when I stepped out of the elevator. Ballard sat in a leather armchair nearby, a couple of books on demonology on his lap and an empty highball glass beside him, looking out of his depth. Someone was getting a hell of a crash course on the dark side.
I mentally resolved to cut the poor guy some slack. Both Ballard and Archer were coping with the situation the best they could. Outside, rain tapped the roof like a hive of angry wasps. A little sunshine might’ve brightened the mood, but the weather refused to cooperate.
Just another beautiful day in the cursed city.
Archer appeared relieved to see me. It seemed there was a first time for everything.
“How did it go?” she asked.
I quickly brought them all up to speed. My partner listened with grave interest as I told him about the role Morgal had played in the ritual. As soon as I finished, Skulick gestured toward his bank of monitors.
“We seem to be on the same page, kid. Check out Engelman’s last interview before his execution.”
He brought up a video on the monitor. Engelman, clad in an orange prison uniform, sat in a brightly lit room while a reporter fired off a series of increasingly banal questions. I couldn’t care less what Engelman planned to have for his last meal before they fried him or how many letters he’d received from lovelorn women. I was far more interested in the crude tattoo poking from the v-neck of his prison shirt.
The mark of Morgal, identical to the one on Dr. Gould’s chest. I’d never seen it in any of the other shots of the serial killer—he must’ve branded himself while behind bars on death row. Like Dr. Gould, Engelman had turned himself into an integral part of an arcane ritual.
“It shouldn’t come as a surprise that a professor of comparative mythology and religion would be able to use his esoteric knowledge to his own advantage,” Skulick said matter-of-factly.
Something about my partner’s words gave me momentary pause. Skulick’s understanding of the supernatural was uncanny. What if he should ever be tempted to use his arcane expertise to his own advantage?
The video froze, the mark of Morgal filling the screen. We were up against our old arch nemesis once more. No matter what, it all came back to Morgal.
“What’s going on here?” Archer asked, picking up on the unvoiced emotion between us.
“Engelman drew on the power of a demon when he performed the ritual that’s keeping his spirit in the world of the living.”
Archer searched my face, picking up on the barely contained emotion in my voice. She knew I was holding back a crucial piece of information. Her eyes narrowed as she said, “And you’ve faced this demon before, haven’t you?”
I nodded gravely. A part of me wanted to share the full story with Archer, but this wasn’t the place or the time to go into the details of my past. I was thankful that Archer didn’t push further.
“So now that you’ve identified this demon, you boys will be able to cook up some sort of counter-ritual, right?”
“We’re going to focus on the electric chair. The chair survived the fire because it has been touched by Morgal’s essence,” Skulick explained.
I could see Ballard and Archer’s eyes glaze over and I jumped into the conversation. “The proper exorcism ritual should weaken Morgal’s link and allow us to physically destroy the electric chair, sending Engelman and his merry band of super psycho-freaks straight to Hell.”
“Now we’re talking,” Ballard said, eyes lighting up. Archer’s ex-partner had snuck up on us, his glassy eyes widening with a new sense of hope and purpose. I caught a whiff of Scotch on his breath.
My focus shifted back to Skulick. “Something else has been bothering me since I learned of Morgal’s connection to all of this. Why is my scar responding to Engelman’s approach? Shouldn’t Morgal’s magic cancel it out?”
I was thinking of my last case, when my scar failed to detect Morgal’s hellhounds. The demon had left the scar on my chest twenty-one years ago when he killed my parents. It responded to the presence of all supernatural beasts—except for Morgal.
“I can only guess.” Skulcik scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps Morgal’s evil activated the spell, but the ritual wasn’t created by the demon. Take a look at this!”
A new image flashed on-screen. This one showed an aerial view of a dense jungle landscape. Ancient pyramid-like ruins thrust from the thick canopy. “These are ruins of Mayan temples located in Guatemala. From 250 to 900 AD, the Mayan civilization supported one of the densest populations in human history. Then they disappeared in the space of only twenty years. Which raises an important question: What happened to cause this collapse?”
I fought back a twinge of impatience. Skulick was a genius when it came to research, but he wasn’t always great at getting to the damned point. Beside me, Archer shuffled her feet and snorted out a quiet breath.
“Just let him do his thing,” I whispered. “Trust me, he’s going somewhere with this.”
A fresh series of images appeared. Skulick had been busy. These new photographs showed close-up views of the various excavated Mayan temple structures. He zoomed in on the ruins, and a set of familiar glyphs jumped into view. My brow turned upward, and I let out a low whistle. The markings bore a striking resemblance to the ones I’d found on the electric chair. “You’re saying Engelman resorted to an ancient Mayan ritual to return from the grave?”
“It appears that way,” Skulick replied. “This is what we know, based on some of the writings on the temple walls. A bloodthirsty high priest by the name of Totec ran a death cult over a thousand years ago. Think of him as the Mayan equivalent of Rasputin—a scumbag who sacrificed thousands of slaves to the death god Yum Cimil. Some of the other priests feared Totec’s rule of blood and conspired against him. After numerous failed assassination attempts, one succeeded. But the priests weren’t prepared for what happened next. Totec’s spirit returned to seek bloody vengeance.”
“So both Engelman and this Totec character used the same ritual to cheat the Grim Reaper?” Archer wondered.
“I believe this is where Engelman drew his inspiration,” Skulick said. What’s more disturbing is what happened next to Mayan culture. Totec transformed thriving urban centers into cities of the dead.”
More shots of the various archeological sites flickered across Skulick’s computer. Carved images and statues showed a shadowy, skull-faced entity hovering over hundreds of mummified corpses. Attempts by an ancient culture to capture and make sense of the horror.
“The spell not merely bound Totec’s spirit to our world but also gave him an appetite for the souls of the living. Remind you of anyone?”
My eyebrows ticked upward. “Are you saying there have been more incidents since Engelman made a go for the uptown precinct?” Archer asked.
A grim-faced Skulick nodded. “I’ve been getting reports of other attacks. Engelman’s been leaving a trail of mummified corpses across the city. The reports are disconcerting, to say the least.”
That was an understatement. Things were spinning out of control. Besides having to worry about Engelman gobbling up the souls of the living, I also now had to worry about Gould. She’d used the same Mayan ritual to remain in our world which suggested she too now had the ability to feast on the souls of anyone unfortunate enough to set foot in her place. And if she should somehow find a way of attaching herself to a medium… The thought of having to deal with two soul-eating monsters at the same time sent a chill up my spine. I had to stop Engelman–sooner rather than later.
“This thing is spreading like a virus,” I said.
Skulick nodded. “Engelman and his trapped spirits are feeding on the living at a geometric rate.”
“Christ, it just keeps getting better!” Ballard said. “How the hell do you guys do this job without going insane?”
This job is what’s keeping me sane. At any other time, I would have voiced the flippant response, hiding the truth in a joke, but not today. A cold terror had gripped me. Engelman was like no enemy we’d ever faced before.
A beeping sound whisked me out of my grim thoughts. I swapped a quick glance with my partner. The incessant electronic whine spelled trouble. Someone had tripped one of our sensors.
Skulick immediately punched up our security feed. The bank of monitors came alive with flashing red lights. We used both modern technology and mystical wards designed to keep supernatural enemies from breaching our base.
“What’s going on?” a nervous Ballard asked.
“Looks like we have company,” Skulick said in a tight voice. A familiar face dominated one of the CCTV feeds. Joe Cormac fronted our warehouse’s main garage bay, his dark gaze fixed on the security cam.
The bastard wants us to know he’s coming, I realized, deeply unnerved by the cocky expression on the possessed psychic’s face. Why was Engelman announcing his approach like this? What game was he playing?
“How did he find us?” Skulick said. I cursed under my breath, and Skulick swiveled toward me, eyes slitted with suspicion, hands clawing the armrests of his wheelchair. “There’s something you’re not telling me, kid.”
I hated it when Skulick treated me like a sidekick, but this time he had a valid reason to be upset with me. I should have come clean from the start.
“Engelman tried to take possession of me earlier today, but the Seal of Solomon stopped him.”
Skulcik furrowed his brows. “When were you planning on telling me this?”
“It didn’t think it was a big deal,” I lied.
“In this game, everything is a big deal.”
My partner was right.
“You think that’s how he found us?”
“It appears Engelman is able to absorb the knowledge of the souls he consumes or even touches.”
“How safe are we in here?” Archer said. Skulick’s pensive silence didn’t inspire confidence.
Outside our warehouse, Engelman stepped closer to the security camera. He was close enough for me to make out his eyes, which swirled with malign energy. And then the eyes cleared, the fiend’s brashness replaced with confusion and terror. There was only one explanation for this change in expression—the spirits must’ve evacuated their host. And that meant…
I whirled and spotted Engelman’s eerie form streaking across the large skylight overhead. I whirled and caught more glimpses of the dead inmates beyond the rain-streaked windows. Engelman and his ghost army were surrounding the warehouse.
The wards will hold, I told myself, but suddenly I didn’t feel so confident. Engelman wasn’t playing by any of the usual arcane rules. Best to steel myself for the worst-case scenario.
Archer and Ballard studied me with growing concern. They couldn’t detect the invisible monsters swirling around our warehouse, but they sensed my fear.
“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” Archer said.
My answer was to draw Hellseeker. I expected the spirits to make a go for the ward-protected windows, but no attack came. Why weren’t they even bothering to test our defenses?
My tension grew as the seconds ticked away. Time stretched. Beads of perspiration dripped down my face as I circled the windows, keeping pace with the floating apparitions outside. And then I picked up another sound—an approaching helicopter. I cast a glance outside the window. The searchlights of the rapidly incoming police helicopter speared the night. What the hell was going on?
Meeting my questioning gaze, Skulick switched on the police band. I caught only every second or third word, but it was enough. The law was closing in on our warehouse. Apparently, someone had gotten the crazy idea that I’d murdered a couple of officers at the uptown precinct and taken Detectives Archer and Ballard hostage.
Keeping Hellseeker in my right hand, I awkwardly maneuvered my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Detective Benson. As soon as he picked up, I nearly shouted, “What the hell is all of this, Benson? Why is half the department closing in on my home?”
“Raven, eyewitness accounts place you at the scene when this craziness went down, not to mention the security footage of you taking off with two of our officers. I know you didn’t do it, but the commissioner wants you brought in. I think he doesn’t like you.”
That was putting it mildly. Commissioner O’Connor was devoutly religious and had always been deeply disturbed by my so called pagan methods. Despite an alarming number of weird cases in the city, some people still preferred to live in denial.
“They’re going to take you in for questioning, one way or another. You can either cooperate…”
“Benson, this is bullshit,” Archer interjected, leaning over to speak into the phone. “We’re under attack by—”
The line hissed and crackled and then went dead. Either Benson had hung up—not likely—or else Engelman didn’t want to give us a chance to explain ourselves. Our security system had been designed to keep unwanted intruders at bay, whether dead or alive, but it wasn’t a fortress. We couldn’t keep the law out if they were determined to breach our base of operation.
I had no doubt Engelman had called the cops and told them where our headquarters were located. He would use the law to gain access to Archer and Ballard. He’d merely have to wait for the cops to enter the warehouse and arrest us. Once we were outside, he and his undead minions would strike. By the time the law realized it was all one big set-up, it would be too late for Archer and Ballard.
And, more likely than not, me. I caught sight of the shadowy shapes positioning themselves on the neighboring rooftops. SWAT sharpshooters.
“Okay, guys, we’re getting out of here now!” I declared.
Ballard raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, man, maybe you should just turn yourself in. We can explain that you didn’t actually kidnap us. I mean, you sort of did, but…”
“Shut up, Ballard,” Archer said. “Raven, how are we supposed to get out of here?”
A series of police cruisers and officers had taken up position around the warehouse. Trying to barrel through the perimeter in my Equus Bass was tantamount to suicide, even for a guy who battled demons and ghouls in a bullet proof, ward-protected muscle car.
A wise man knew when to retreat. “Leave that up to me,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “I have a plan.”
15
The engine of my Equus Bass roared to life in the underground parking structure. Archer eyed me nervously, while Ballard looked a tad pale in the backseat. If he barfed on my painstakingly restored vintage upholstery, I was going to kick him out of the car and leave him to Engelman’s tender mercies.
“How do you expect to get past those cops outside again?” Archer wanted to know.
“Let’s say the main garage bay is not the only way out of this place.”
Archer gave me a long look, and I grinned back at her. “Every secret base must have a back door.”
With these words, I mashed the gas and twisted the wheel, steering my car straight at the back wall.
Archer looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. Couldn’t blame her. I often looked at myself the same way in the mirror.
Impact imminent, I flipped a switch and the wall rumbled open, revealing a second exit. But this one didn’t lead to the surface streets. Instead, it led into a tunnel that wound its way deeper underground. Soon, we were blasting down the secret passageway, lit only by the car’s headlights.
“This tunnel runs about a third of a mile underground. It lets out near the freeway exit.”
Archer flashed me an open-mouthed stare. The network of old underground freight tunnels running below the warehouse district had been one of the main reasons Skulick had selected the area for our base. Originally built to hold telegraph and telephone cables, they were later used to haul freight before being abandoned in the last decade.
Skulick believed in always having a back-up plan, and I silently thanked him for making a point of always being one step ahead of the bad guys. I worried about leaving him behind by himself, but we couldn’t all become fugitives from the law. Someone had to stay behind to clear up the situation. Just about now, he would be granting the cops access to our headquarters. I pictured armed SWAT barreling into our place, laser dots flashing across Skulick in his wheelchair. Even with the door open, the magical barrier should hold. Engelman would not be able to enter the facility. But if the cops dragged my partner out of the secure building…
Shadow Detective Supernatural Action Thriller Series: Books 1-3 (Shadow Detective Boxset) Page 20