Shadow Detective Supernatural Dark Urban Fantasy Series: Books 1-3 (Shadow Detective Boxset)

by William Massa

  “No, that’s impossible,” Archer gasped. “It can’t be.”

  “I’m afraid Raven knows what he’s talking about. Engelman died in this room because of me.”

  ”That’s impossible. I’ve worked with you for years…”

  “And you never suspected a thing. Some kind of detective you are. But then again, I wasn’t always like this.”

  He took a step toward Archer, and my jaw tightened. Ballard wouldn’t be confessing his crimes if he expected us to ever leave Blackwell alive.

  “After the Crimson Circle caused their breach to the other side and the supernatural shit storm started to hit our city, I finally wised up. All this time, I’d been fighting for the wrong side. Mankind was doomed, headed straight toward the apocalypse. For years, I’d been trying to do the right thing, but for every bad guy I put behind bars, two new ones took his place. I could never win for one simple reason: the dark is stronger than the light. After two decades, it was time to be on the winning side.”

  “So you went around slaughtering innocent people and carving sick occult shit onto their bodies? You fucking freak!” Archer’s voice was shaking with rage now. I didn’t blame her. This was betrayal on a level I’d never experienced. It would be like finding out Skulick had secretly been working for Morgal this whole time.

  “I was welcoming the darkness into my life, hoping the masters of Hell would take notice of me and accept me into their fold.”

  I watched Ballard carefully as he spoke. Like Desmond Horne, he was clearly a nutjob who thought he could achieve transcendence through works of evil—a man dreaming of being a monster, a mortal foolishly hoping Hell would grant him a place among their infernal ranks.

  Even though his words held a strange, dark logic, I wasn’t buying it. It seemed more like Ballard was desperately trying to rationalize what he’d become. He might try to convince himself that the years of battling crime had burned him out. I saw it differently. Evil hadn’t worn him out; it had seduced him. It had probably started with something small. A bribe accepted in exchange for looking the other way, removing drugs from evidence for an additional payday—who knew what exactly had set him on this twisted, murderous path? With time, he had allowed the darkness into his heart, allowed it to infect him and ultimately claim his soul.

  I’d seen it all before. Every twisted sorcerer I’d put down over the years had started the same way. Just one little spell, a minor deal with the forces of darkness to make life a little sweeter. Inevitably, infernal power corrupted. Ballard was just one more sucker who’d fallen for Hell’s phony promises.

  The breach between our world and the world of monsters hadn’t been the beginning of his twisted journey—it had signaled the end. He was too far gone to save.

  My cold glare fixed on him as I spoke. “If you were so determined to join the forces of Hell, why pin it on Engelman? Why let an innocent man pay for your sick crimes?”

  Ballard met my gaze with a glassy-eyed stare, head tilted slightly to one side, almost as if he was wondering whether he owed me an explanation at all. Even monsters want to be understood on some level, and he couldn’t resist telling me all about his scheme.

  “I went to every one of Engelman’s lectures, read all his books but his insights into the paranormal turned out to be lies. No matter how many souls I offered to my dark masters, I remained invisible to them, an insect unworthy of their attention. The demons never revealed themselves, refusing to answer my calls.”

  He sounded for all the world like a frustrated high school kid who couldn’t get the prom queen to notice him. It would have been pathetic if he wasn’t about to kill us. Ballard’s gun never wavered as he circled me and Archer, his body infused with a nervous energy. He wasn’t merely telling us his story; he was reliving every single moment.

  “When my efforts failed to elicit a response from Hell, I started to question myself. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I was even crazy. All great men will face periods of crushing self-doubt. With my rituals failing and the cops closing in, I needed to buy myself more time.”

  “So you got yourself assigned to the investigation,” Archer said. “You targeted Engelman’s students, planted evidence linking him to the murders. You set up an innocent man for your crimes, you sick freak.”

  “It’s your own fault, Archer. If you hadn’t been so determined to catch your man, Engelman might still be alive.”

  Archer’s eyes narrowed, mouth pressed into a thin line.

  “Sounds like someone got scared. Was the thought of ending up in the electric chair keeping you up at night?”

  What was Archer doing? Was she baiting Ballard? Didn’t she realize she was facing a psycho with a gun pointing at her.

  But Jane was beyond reason. The anger at being betrayed by her old partner had taken hold of her.

  “I know why your twisted rituals failed. Hell hates a fucking coward!”

  Without warning, Ballard viciously brought the butt of his pistol down on Archer. She let out a muffled cry and crumpled. Ballard kicked her for good measure.

  Something in me snapped. Seeing red, I threw caution to the wind and lunged at Ballard. I didn’t give a shit about the pistol in his hand, didn’t give a shit about my own safety. Only Archer mattered. And this beast was hurting her…

  I was almost upon him when the barrel of his firearm swiveled toward Archer, kissing her forehead.

  Despite my boiling rage, I froze, less than three feet between us now. One wrong move on my part and he would drill a bullet into Archer’s head.

  “Back the fuck off! Now!”

  Reluctantly I complied, my gaze never leaving Archer. She was on the ground, bloodied but her eyes had not lost her fighting spirit.

  “Get in the chair!” Ballard ordered.

  Once again, the pistol fixed on Archer left me no choice. I had to play along for now.

  “If you try anything again, I’ll shoot this bitch in the fucking face. Now get in the chair, Raven.”

  Eyes never leaving Ballard, I did as I was told. A chill tore up my spine as my back leaned into the gasoline-soaked wooden chair, the scar on my chest coming to life. The chair was stained with old evil, marked by pain. How many monsters had exited this world in this contraption, fifty thousand volts surging through flesh and bone?

  Ballard eased closer, gun trained on me. A groggy Archer watched helplessly as her former partner began to tighten the chair’s straps around my hands. Gasoline stained my coat, and I fought valiantly to stave off my growing panic.

  Stop it and think! There has to be a way out! There always is!

  Ballard secured a thick strap around my midsection. My chest heaved and strained against the leather band, and it cost me a considerable amount of willpower to normalize my breathing. The fumes from the fuel weren’t helping matters, stinging my eyes and throat.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, fighting back the cough building in my throat. I wanted to keep Ballard talking while I figured a way out of this mess. Once I was out of the picture, Ballard’s attention would be directed at his old partner. And I had a feeling that with Archer, he would take his sweet time.

  Ballard finished securing a second strap around my waist and said, “I can admit it. The demons I worshipped felt me unworthy of their attention. And for good reason. I wasn’t ready. But this time around, things will be different. This time my call will be answered. The last few hours have shown me I was on the right path all along. Engelman’s published work might have been lies, but clearly he was holding back the good stuff. I merely lacked the right knowledge. The right sacrifice.”

  When he said sacrifice, Ballard was talking about yours truly. I was at the top of Hell’s most wanted list, and Ballard planned to deliver me on a platter to the Prince of Darkness. Fool! Ballard erroneously believed he could buy his way into Hell. The bastard was due for a rude awakening. The Prince of Darkness wasn’t known for his sense of gratitude or a willingness to reward his unholy servants. Far from it.

 
“Ballard, you are crazy,” I said. “Demons are liars and double-crossers. You’re a fool if you think you can bargain with them and walk away the winner.”

  Ballard glowered at me. “We’ll see about that.”

  He took a step closer. “And one more thing before I forget. Once I’m done here, I’m going to head back to your warehouse, put your crippled partner out of his misery and help myself to the secrets of your library.”

  For a moment, it felt like Ballard had flicked a switch and brought the electric chair to life, his words sizzling through me. Skulick was well-protected against supernatural threats, thanks to the Seal of Solomon, but his mystical defenses wouldn’t deflect a bullet. I had to stop this monster.

  Good call, buddy, but you need a plan.

  Fast.

  Unarmed and tied to an electric chair soaked in gasoline, I was fresh out of options. I’d escaped worse situations, or so I was trying to tell myself, but this time I wasn’t just trying to save my own skin. I had to get Archer out of here.

  I searched her bloodied face. I hated seeing her like this. What could she do without her pistol? Even if she made a suicide run at Ballard, bullets would strike her down before she could reach him. And I’d still be tied to this goddamn chair.

  But maybe there was another way.

  Maybe I could seek help from the lost souls trapped within these accursed walls.

  Engelman had made a pact with Morgal so he could return from the grave and prove his innocence. Naturally, the demon had tricked him, trapping his soul with the monsters in this prison so that their evil and rage would infect him. But many innocent people had been caught in the web of the ritual, and those imprisoned souls had to be desperate to escape their earthbound purgatory.

  Focusing my sixth sense was more difficult than usual, what with the fear of imminent death, but I managed to send out some psychic feelers. I pictured Ballard’s face in my mind until I could see every detail of the detective’s rugged features.

  This is the man who is responsible for your suffering, I thought, the man who is trying to keep you imprisoned.

  At first there was no indication that I was reaching my intended audience but soon the chants of the damned began to change. Their whispers now echoed in my head.

  Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!

  My message was getting through, filling the minds of the doomed spirits housed within this prison. And with each passing second, their mantra grew in intensity and volume.

  Ballard was busy securing my legs to the chair, completely unaware of the chaos building around us. As he tightened the last belt securing me to the death chair, he leaned forward and patted me on the shoulder.

  “Sorry, but I can’t risk you running around this place once I set you on fire. It might disturb the locals.”

  How nice, a considerate psychopath.

  He flashed me a grin. The bastard thought he was funny, too, but there was only room enough in the cursed city for one charmingly sarcastic bastard. My sudden preternatural calm combined with the confident sparkle in my eyes visibly unnerved him. I was too cool for a man who was about to barbecued alive.

  I decided to press my momentary advantage and knock him farther off balance. “You know why Hell never showed itself to you, Ballard? The Prince of Darkness can spot a rank amateur a mile away.”

  Rage crept into Ballard’s gaze, but he caught himself before rising to my taunt. Instead he pocketed one of the pistols and extricated a lighter from his jacket.

  “Let’s see if I can wipe that cocky grin off your face.”

  And with those words, Ballard flicked the lighter, spark turning to flame, and my world transformed into a searing inferno.

  18

  Ravenous flames engulfed the chair, threatening to turn me into a human torch. The fact that my clothes were still soaked from the rain would buy me only a couple of seconds.

  Then, a violent blast of air roared through the death chamber, extinguishing the burgeoning blaze. Choking back toxic smoke, my eyes tearing, I vaguely made out my saviors. A ring of entities had appeared at the far edge of the execution chamber. Guards, prison employees, even a few inmates. Hate-filled eyes bored into Ballard.

  A beat later, the leather straps securing me to the blackened chair snapped and tore, and I was free. I had no doubt that my spectral rescuers were responsible for this Houdini act. Ballard stared at me with wild eyes, his mouth hanging open in shock.

  I, on the other hand, was ready to make my move.

  My clothes still smoking – thanks for ruining a perfectly good coat, asshole – I bolted out of the chair and launched myself at Ballard.

  I slammed into the sick bastard and we both went down in a mass of flailing limbs. We rolled across the floor, locked in a fierce wrestling match. It would’ve been nice for the ghosts to come to my aid, but it seemed these entities had already exerted whatever energy they could muster. It was up to me now to finish this business.

  A sharp pain tore through my skull as Ballard’s elbow found my chin. Two more punches rained down, and I exhaled sharply, spitting blood. While I was still recovering from the flurry of blows, Ballard head-butted me full force. My nose seemed to explode. As I groggily tried to regain my senses, Ballard jumped to his feet and scooped up the pistols he’d dropped during my attack.

  A gunshot tore through the execution chamber.

  I flinched, but I wasn’t the one who’d been hit. During my brawl with psycho-boy, Archer had helped herself to Hellseeker and managed to squeeze off a shot. The blessed weapon was capable of inflicting damage on the dead as well as the living.

  Ballard returned fire while staggering out of the death chamber and Archer went down. A moment later, Ballard had vanished through the exit, leaving me and Archer behind.

  For an eternal moment, I remained frozen in place, gun smoke wafting around me. The coppery flavor of my own blood numbed my mouth. I’d faced indescribable horrors over the years, battled monsters and demons, but I’d never felt such dread as when I saw the woman I love hit the floor.

  Okay, I admit it. I love her. I’m crazy about Detective Jane Archer.

  And now she was lying in a pool of her own blood. I crawled toward her, desperately hoping that the the damage wasn’t as bad as it looked. As I approached, she glanced up at me with big eyes. Her shirt was stained scarlet, but her grip was strong as she snatched my hand. Even with a bullet or two in her, Archer still had the spunk of a born fighter.

  I inspected the wound. The bleeding appeared to be coming from her arm. Thank God, Ballard appeared to have missed any vital organs.

  “Are you alright, babe?”

  “Who you calling babe? Ouch, this shit hurts…”

  I grinned like an idiot at the sound of her voice. Even down for the count, she was still a fighter.

  “Get that fucker. I’ll be alright!”

  I squeezed her hand, hating myself for leaving her behind in the execution chamber but knowing someone had to put an end to Ballard. Snatching Hellseeker from where Archer had dropped the weapon during her shootout with Ballard, I jumped back to my feet and tore out of the execution chamber.

  A dark hallway lined with empty holding cells awaited me.

  I advanced slowly, knowing the enemy might wait around any corner. Somewhere in the pools of corpse-gray moonlight was Ballard. I swore he wouldn’t get far.

  I cast out with my sixth sense, hoping that the ghosts might be able to guide me, but I picked up nothing. Morgal’s scar had made me receptive to the other side, but I wasn’t a full-blown psychic like Joe Cormac .

  Hellseeker ready, I continued down the dimly lit corridor, following the trail of blood Ballard had left behind. Archer had hit the man, that much was certain. I generally used lethal force against monsters, not mortal men. But today I would make an exception.

  I reached the end of the cellblock and trailed the line of scarlet down a steel staircase. Rage simmered inside me as my shoes clanged down the steps.

  I spotted Ballar
d moments later. He stood in the center of the main hall, surrounded by three floors of prison cells on all sides. His gun was down and his body hunched over, and he appeared smaller than he had only a few minutes ago. Was it merely blood loss, or was something else affecting the detective?

  Lucifer’s So-Called Disciple barely paid me any attention, his gaze riveted to the rows of prison cells which encircled us both. I followed his gaze and stifled a gasp.

  Frank Engelman had arrived at Blackwell!

  The former professor of the occult stood on the second floor of the penitentiary, and his band of psychopaths had formed an impenetrable spectral wall around us.

  By saving my life, the lost souls in the prison had interrupted the exorcism ritual. The chair would need to fully burn down to send Engelman and the other spirits packing. Blinded by my anger, I’d forgotten why we had come to Blackwell in the first place—stopping the soul-eating entity looming menacingly above us. By allowing this fight to become personal, I had sacrificed our best way of defeating Engelman.

  Another thought occurred to me. How was Ballard able to see the ghosts?

  They want him to see them. Want him to feel their pain and rage. Want him to be as afraid as they were on that night when the fire took them.

  The band of ghosts began to circle Ballard, inexorably zeroing in on their prey. Ballard backed away, his eyes alive with terror. Archer had seen right through this monster—Ballard was a coward.

  “Raven, you have to help me. How do we stop them?”

  We don’t.

  Even if I could’ve, I wouldn’t have helped the sick bastard.

  Engelman and his spirit army drew closer and closer until they were upon Ballard.

  “Get away from me! I killed you, Engelman! You’re dead!”

  And so are you, buddy.

  I watched in grim silence as they viciously tore into Lucifer’s Disciple. More like Lucifer’s Embarrassment. I felt numb, beyond emotion. The less I talk about what happened next the better. Let’s just say that very little of Ballard was left by the time they were done with him. Gore caked the floor, and I was glad I’d skipped dinner.