Bangkok Warlock: A Mark Vedis Supernatural Thriller Book 1 (Southeast Asia Paranormal Police Department)

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Bangkok Warlock: A Mark Vedis Supernatural Thriller Book 1 (Southeast Asia Paranormal Police Department) Page 17

by John P. Logsdon


  Chapter 30

  I stood outside of Theresa and Caleb’s apartment, but didn’t go in. Whatever happened back in the morgue made Caleb seem like someone I knew even though I’d never met him.

  I was afraid of what would happen when I saw where he’d died.

  Mira took my hand. “Something wrong?”

  “No,” I lied, opening the door with the key the front desk had provided. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Walking through the apartment didn’t take long. It was a two-bedroom arrangement, the same as I had with Bert, but it wasn’t huge.

  As I’d suspected, the place was spotless. The cleaners had removed all evidence that Caleb and Theresa had even lived there. There was new furniture, fresh paint on the walls and even new carpet. It quickly became apparent that we wouldn’t be finding any evidence, at least not the physical kind.

  “This is nicer than our place,” Bert said, opening the refrigerator for some reason. “No food though. Man, it really sucks not having servants.”

  “It’s nicer because you don’t live here,” I replied, closing the refrigerator door as Bert got distracted and walked away. “We’ve spent about four hours in our place so far and it’s already covered in trash and smells like someone rubbed skunk ass on the curtains.”

  “Again,” Bert said, “a problem that would easily be solved by servants. Preferably hot ones that don’t mind feeding and bathing me.”

  I had a feeling he was serious. His mother had seriously spoiled him. No wonder she’d finally had to kick him out. I didn’t know much about demons, but he definitely seemed too soft to survive on his own.

  I’d taken my time checking out the living area and Theresa’s room, but there was no putting off checking out Caleb’s room.

  That’s where the murder had happened.

  I took a deep breath and walked in.

  At first it looked like I’d been worrying over nothing.

  Like the rest of the apartment, it was cleaned to a ridiculous degree. The only way I could tell it was the same room as in my vision was by the placement of the windows and air conditioner since everything that could have been replaced had been.

  Then I studied the bed.

  Again, it was spotless, but only to normal eyes. Hovering above it was what looked like a shadow, made of energy.

  “Hey, do you see that?” Bert asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t see anything,” Mira said, looking around the room.

  “It’s an energy manifestation,” I explained. “Nagas are shifters, not magic users,” I told her. “That’s probably why you can’t see energy. Most werefolk can’t.” I pointed at the energy ball, even though she couldn’t spot it. “This is spirit energy, though. I couldn’t see it either before Bert merged with me. Well, sometimes, but nothing like this. I’d just see remnants of it now and then.”

  “Wait, are you telling me you can see a soul?” she asked. Her eyes went wide. “Are you saying ghosts are real?”

  I turned to Bert. “Are they?”

  He snorted. “Everyone knows ghosts are just stories. What are you, twelve?”

  Mira put her hand on her hip. “You don’t have to be an asshole about it. Spirit energy sounds like a ghost to me.”

  “Spirit energy is different,” I said almost reverently. “I think. I can’t explain it, except to tell you how it feels.”

  “Yeah, you sucked before you met me,” Bert said, “we know.”

  Everyone had life energy. Wizards and mages could sense it, though I always had to concentrate to pick up even a hint of it before. It was part of our bodies, but also separate. Energy created by our bodies is called life energy. Anything else got caught under the blanket term of spirit energy.

  I looked at Mira with my senses. She had a healthy glow, a deep brown energy tied to her that identified her as a shifter, and a powerful one at that.

  “You, for example,” I said, pointing to Mira, “glow brown. And Bert…” I scanned him with my senses, then laughed, “is pink. Hot pink.”

  “No way,” he said, spinning around like a dog chasing its tail. “Everyone knows demons have red energy.”

  “Oh, I guess nobody told you before.”

  We were taught in mage training that you couldn’t see your own life energy in most cases, since it would be like trying to see inside yourself and take a look at your heart.

  “This is bullshit,” he grumbled, staring into the bedroom mirror, trying in vain to catch a glimpse.

  “Technically, pink is just light red,” Mira said, patting him on the head. “We’ve already seen you wear pink clothes. What’s the problem? Aren’t you masculine enough to be pink without feeling insecure?”

  Bert stared at himself again, thoughtfully.

  “That’s true,” he said, emphatically. “Real men wear pink, right? Well, I guess real demons are pink. Fuck your gender preconceptions.”

  “Anyway,” I said, trying to steer the conversation back to the topic at hand. “This is just a guess, but it seems like spirit energy can stick around after someone dies.”

  “That’s true,” Bert said. “It can happen on purpose if a strong magic user wants to leave behind their personality for some reason, or by accident, if there’s a strong emotion attached to someone when they die.”

  He scratched his nose. “Spirit energy is a sensitive subject and one demons don’t talk about much, since we’re living containers of the stuff.”

  I sighed.

  “I was going to tell you earlier, but when I went to the morgue, I somehow absorbed the energy that was attached to Caleb’s body. It left some memories in my head. I saw him get killed in this room, which is why I freaked out a little about coming here.”

  Bert just nodded.

  “I wouldn’t tell a lot of people about that, if I was you. As far as I know, that’s an ability that only warlocks have, and it makes people uncomfortable. Nobody wants to think about their secrets being exposed after they die.”

  “Huh?”

  “There’s a reason people call you people spirit leeches.”

  “I didn’t know they did,” I said, raising my voice. “Why didn’t you tell me about any of this?”

  Bert took his finger, which had gone from nose scratching to full on picking, and pointed at me. “Yeah, because I’ve had a lot of time, right? We didn’t even talk about you hijacking my powers back at the station when you went all wolverine on that guy’s ass.”

  Hijack?

  There was so much I didn’t know, but Bert was right. There hadn’t been much time to talk.

  “I… shit, good point,” I acknowledge, my anger dropping a bit. “As soon as this is over we need to download Warlocks for Dummies or something and go over everything.”

  “That’s not the only talk you need to have,” Mira sent.

  Fuck. Apparently ‘I don’t want to talk’ meant she wanted to talk.

  I winced. “Sure. Looking forward to it.”

  Bert looked at me, then at Mira.

  “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “Doing what?”

  “Brain texting,” he said. “It’s rude. Next time we’re in the Netherworld I want a connector so you guys can’t talk behind my back.”

  “Fine,” I told him. “Pecker said he was working on one.”

  I smiled. “You know I could still private message Mira, right?”

  “Huh?”

  “Even when you finally get a connector, we can still communicate without you listening in.”

  Bert smiled even wider. “Yeah? Well, then I could private message her, too.”

  “I vote against Bert having a connector,” Mira said, stepping between us. “I don’t need mental dick pics being sent to me twenty-four hours a day.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Bert said smoothly. “I prefer to display my goods in person.”

  Mira sighed in relief.

  “Besides, I know when I’m beat,” Bert told he
r. “Mark’s dick is way cooler than mine.”

  Mira spun around, a mix of emotions flashing across her face.

  “Why does he know what your dick looks like?”

  Not this again.

  I appreciated the praise, strange as it was, but Bert was going to have to learn about appropriate conversation topics.

  “Can we discuss this later, please?” I asked.

  I pointed to the bed where the energy was still hovering.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s what is left of Theresa’s spirit energy. If we want to find out what happened to her, I’m going to have to try to absorb it and hope her memories tell us something.”

  Mira and Bert looked at each other, then swiftly exited the room.

  “Thanks guys,” I said, scowling. “I appreciate the support.”

  I approached the bed, doing one of my calming exercises to prepare.

  Opening my senses, I felt the energy reach out to me, like it was waiting for me to take it.

  So, I did.

  The experience was more vivid this time. The images flashed through my head so quickly it was painful.

  Like with Caleb, I felt emotions attached to each memory.

  I felt rage from a lifetime of mockery and hatred from the other races. Depression and self-loathing from not being beautiful like a fae.

  Then…love.

  Love from Caleb.

  A thousand memories from their lives ran through my head. They weren’t mine to share, so I let them pass through me.

  Finally, the rage returned, mixed with horror. I saw Caleb die, as Theresa was forced to stab him. Then, pain as she was stabbed herself, with the same weapon.

  All the emotions left as she went numb, but something moved before her dying eyes.

  The last thing she saw was the face of her murderer.

  It was all too much for me.

  I fell to the ground, weeping openly…a mixture of my, Caleb and Theresa’s emotions flooding my body.

  Mira rushed in and held me while I cried.

  Finally, I regained enough control to speak.

  “It was Jonah,” I rasped. “He’s behind this.”

  Chapter 31

  I woke up in Mira’s bed again, the little spoon this time. I hadn’t been in any condition to do anything after absorbing Theresa’s energy, so Mira had guided me to bed.

  Bert winked at me as we left him.

  “Cry sex,” he said. “Nice.”

  I moved gently, afraid of waking Mira up and getting clawed.

  She laughed. “I’m awake. I was just keeping you company.”

  I rolled over and looked at her. She was smiling, but it was a tight smile and her eyes were tired. I kissed her forehead and took her hand, marveling at how much I’d come to care for her in the last few days. I decided it was time to have the relationship conversation.

  “Okay,” I said, “let’s do this.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “Despite what your friend said, I’m not really into a grief screw.”

  “No, not that.” I grunted. “Let’s talk.”

  “Oh! No, it can wait,” she said, sitting up in the bed. “At least until after we finish off Jonah.”

  “No,” I insisted, “it can’t. Not just because I hurt you and I hate that so much I can’t breathe, either.” Okay, so maybe that was a bit dramatic, but I was kind of feeling sensitive at the moment. “Seriously, we’re about to walk into some heavy shit. We might die. Either of us. Both of us. And that’s even more likely if we are too distracted by this to focus on the job.”

  She looked away, for a second, wringing her hands.

  I want points for noticing that, by the way, because she was naked.

  “What is there to talk about?” she asked, finally. “You never would have noticed me if you hadn’t been entrained to ignore anyone you could have kids with.”

  I stared into her eyes and said the most romantic word I could think of.

  “So?”

  Her eyes flashed.

  Swing and a miss.

  “Look,” I said quickly, taking her hand, “everyone has their potential dating pool limited in some way. Geography, gender, money…there are a million barriers to finding someone. My entrainment was just a little more obvious about it.”

  She didn’t say anything, but nodded. Wow, I must have been super-duper right to get that much of an acknowledgement.

  “How we met doesn’t matter,” I pushed forward. “We found each other. That’s all that counts.”

  She didn’t respond, but she also didn’t push me away.

  “And what about you?” I asked, “You never even said why you were attracted to me.” I motioned to myself. “I’m not exactly eye candy.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Bitch, you aren’t just eye candy, you’re a fucking eye-snickers bar…the best of all eye candy.”

  That was the second time she’d called me a bitch. I kind of liked it. Not that I wanted to be her bitch or anything like that. I just mean that I dug that she was tough.

  “Seriously?” I asked. “Girls on the topside never seemed to like me.”

  “Don’t blame me for those women being stupid,” she said. “If I took you home to my city, you’d be eye-fucked to death before I got halfway to my house.” She smiled. “Plus, you’re a good guy and all that stuff.”

  I grinned.

  “Of course, I’d murder anyone if they tried to take you.” Her fangs popped out for a second and her eyes burned red for a moment.

  I stopped grinning.

  Fangs weren’t as bad as needles, but I’m not a fan of pointy things in general.

  “So what’s the problem?” I asked. “We like each other.” I shrugged. “Maybe more than like.”

  “Because I always do this,” she said. “I find someone I’m into, then I fall super hard and get my heart broken.” She took her hand away and hugged herself. “Why do you think I pushed you away when I found out you were my boss? I saw it all happening again.”

  “Yeah, but then you mouth-hugged me in the dressing room of a mall department store.” I reminded her.

  She slapped my arm. “Yeah, you weren’t complaining.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything. It would have been rude to make you talk with your mouth full.”

  She looked at me from the side of her eye, her mouth twitching slightly.

  “Full? I’d say there was plenty of room left.”

  Ouch.

  “Did I win?” she asked, batting her eyelashes innocently.

  I put my arm around her.

  “Yes, you’ve wounded me quite grievously. My fragile male pride may never recover.”

  She kissed me, quickly. “See, that’s the problem. I can’t control myself around you. I know I’m going to get hurt, but I still want you.”

  “Why do you keep saying you’ll get hurt?”

  “Because every time a guy finds out they can’t fill me with babies, they lose interest. Not at first, but eventually everyone wants a little copy of themselves to show off to their friends and family.”

  “Not a problem,” I sighed. “You and Bert are basically my only friends, other than a guy I’m half sure is trying to kill me…and all my family is dead.”

  “But what if that’s not enough?” she asked with a worried look. “That’s why I didn’t want anything serious. Sure, you’re cool with it now, but how about in five years? Ten?”

  I took a moment to think about it and be honest with myself.

  How would I feel if I never had kids of my own? No family legacy. Did that matter to me? Should it?

  I looked into Mira’s eyes and I knew the answer.

  “I don’t know about kids,” I told her. “I mean, I never thought I’d find someone I wanted to have any with.” She started to pull away, but I held her tight. “What I do know is how I’d feel if I didn’t have you.” I whispered, “Mages can live hundreds of years. I’m starting to get hints that warlocks live at least that long. That’s a long t
ime.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I have the feeling that when people say they want kids, what they really mean is they want to play with a baby. But the baby will be cute for what, a year? Then it’s just another person.”

  “Okay,” she said, not sounding convinced.

  “Besides, why not just adopt someone if we want to have a family?” I asked. “That way they’ve already learned to stop shitting in their pants and we don’t have to worry about the family cat treating the baby’s crib like a litter box. If we have a cat, I mean.”

  “No cats,” she stated. “Some of my family might think it’s a snack.”

  Eww.

  “Remind me to get drunk before I meet your family.”

  “No need. I’ll be drunk days before that happens.” She turned my face to meet hers, cupping it with her hand. “You’d really be okay with not having a clone of yourself to take credit for all of their minor achievements?”

  I shrugged. “Eh, it’s not that a big of a deal. Plus, with an adopted kid I can always blame everything they do on their birth parents.”

  She scowled at me. “Be serious.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Look, every kid gets messed up eventually, but most of us end up okay.”

  “What do you mean, ‘us’?” she asked.

  “I was basically adopted by my grandpa,” I explained. “My dad died when I was two and my mom left before that. I turned out around uh, seventy percent okay.”

  “You were about to say sixty-nine, weren’t you?”

  “No.”

  She raised her eyebrow.

  “Okay,” I admitted, “maybe. The point is, I’m not worried about kids. I’m worried about losing you. I’m not going anywhere.” I paused. “I mean unless Bubbles kills me, but he’d probably kill you, too.”

  She pulled me tight. “That’s more reassuring than it should be.”

  I held her for a few minutes, then sighed. “I guess we should go get Bert and plan our next move.”

  “Not yet,” she said, moving under the blanket. “How about another speech lesson first?”

 

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