Shawdow Detective Box Set, Vol. 2 [Books 4-6]

by Massa, William

  “The animal was a mess of fur draped around bones. I cut off its head, removed the fur, and got my first good look at the dead creature’s skull. It was pure. Perfect and magnificent. After that, I was hooked.”

  For some reason, the man underneath the executioner’s skull felt the need to explain himself. To make me understand his horrific acts—as if I could ever accept them as a normal behavior.

  But what would I sound like to Skulick if I tried to justify stabbing Saxon and shooting the Crimson Circle auctioneer in the leg?

  “As the years passed, I learnt the many ways of preparing a skull. I discovered knives were best for the rough cleaning, and flesh-eating maggots more suited for nibbling around the crevices. But sometime the maggots were too brutal in their treatment of the finer bones and could distort them. So I found a new method. I would soak new skulls in a bucket of water for a long time and let the bacteria dissolve the flesh way. You should have seen my parents’ faces the first time they found a rotting animal head in a bucket in our basement.”

  I swallowed hard and gritted my teeth. I had heard enough of this gruesome nonsense. I couldn’t care less about Valdis’ dark obsessions. This monster had slain five good people and was now looking to go after my partner. If he hadn’t done so already. I wasn’t going to let him win. I had to get past this monster and escape from the yard. If I could only make it to the Ducati…

  The unexpected sound of approaching footsteps made me freeze.

  “Drop the axe!” a man shouted. “It’s over!”

  I had an ominous feeling nothing could be further from the truth.

  I pivoted toward the three newcomers in the garden and my heart sank—Aria Giovanni and the two FBI agents had decided to join this nightmare. I recognized a flicker of fear beneath Aria’s lovely features, but it was tightly reined in by her steely resolve. She could still pretend that the monstrous figure before me was just a man, that the glowing axe was some trick of the moonlight. She hadn’t battled a supernatural force like this before, nor had she had to confront the flying skulls.

  And on that note, where were the skulls?

  “Do you make it habit of being saved by the fairer sex?”

  Cyon’s comments failed to amuse me. No one had saved me yet. On the contrary, the potential body count had just risen sharply.

  “Stay back!” I cried, my voice exploding from my dry throat. “You and your men get the hell out of here!”

  How had the art investigator found me? Only one possibility came to mind, and I did not like it. She must’ve planted a tracking device on my Ducati, guessing I might not cooperate with her. A good idea…if I’d been lying about the danger. I admired her grit and determination, but in this game, those qualities could also get you killed.

  The Skull Master turned toward the newcomers, regarding them with silent indifference. As he raised his axe, almost lazily, Giovanni and her men unleashed a volley of lead. Bullets ripped into the Skull Master’s torso, but they failed to bring him down.

  I fired Hellseeker.

  I didn’t expect my gun to destroy the fiend but I hoped my bullets would at least prove a tad more effective. I was right.

  The Skull Master stumbled a few feet back, but not even my blessed ammo was able to drop him. Making matters worse, I felt a rush of air overhead and knew the executioner’s army of skulls had arrived. Aria Giovanni traded a stunned look with me, finally understanding that this case was different than the usual art heists she dealt with. Dark forces were at work here.

  The skulls were circling the garden like a school of hungry sharks. Counting five skulls instead of six gave me hope that Skulick was still safe.

  Aria’s incomprehension quickly gave way to terror as the skulls tore into her and the agents, burying teeth into flesh. Screams cut through the night.

  The men went down as I rushed toward Aria, Hellseeker blazing away. One of the skulls whirled toward me, and I flung my trench coat at it. The coat blinded the thing, and it shot past me. It bought me a few precious seconds.

  A second skull hurtled toward me with a bloodcurdling shriek. I pivoted and fired. My bullet connected, and the impact sent the skull ricocheting across the garden. But the skulls were already regrouping, turning for another attack.

  I knew this wasn’t a battle we could win. Retreat was our best option.

  Aria let out a shriek as one of the glowing skulls chomped on her arm. I brought my magical ring down on the attacking skull, and it let go with a bellowing shriek. The sleeve of Aria’s suit turned red as the skull zoomed away, teeth coated in her blood.

  I continued to fire with one hand while the other reached for Aria. She pushed me aside—this was no helpless damsel in distress—and despite her injury, she opened fire on the skulls. Her bullets proved a little less effective than mine.

  “We’ve got to get out here!” I shouted.

  She gave a single, sharp nod. I laid down cover fire while Aria led our escape, retracing the path that had led her into the yard. As we cut through the weeds, I glanced at the two FBI guys. Three skulls were still munching on the first, but the second man had already stopped moving. All help would come too late for them. My gut sank. Two more victims in the battle with the dark side.

  My litany of regrets was abruptly silenced as the Skull Master tossed his massive axe at us.

  I launched myself at Aria, and we hit the ground as the axe whooshed overhead and buried itself in the fence. The wood immediately ignited, consumed by the magical flames of Hell.

  Aria allowed me to drag her along this time. Her training and experience had prepared her for violent conflict, but the horrors of the night were too much for her to deal with.

  I changed direction in mid-stride, darting away from the smoldering remains of the fence and surged toward the steel mesh gate that led back to the main street. Seconds later, we reached the sidewalk and barreled toward my Ducati. I worried that Aria might not be able to keep up with my punishing pace, but she never faltered.

  We reached my bike, and I signaled to Aria to get on it. The Italian art investigator showed no hesitation as she swung her leg over the backseat.

  “Give me your gun!” she demanded, having realized that my magical pistol was far more effective against the skulls than her regular firearm.

  I hesitated.

  “You can’t steer and shoot at the same time,” she said, urgency building in her voice.

  A rush of air signaled the skulls were closing in. They emerged from behind the fence, ready to take up pursuit.

  I reluctantly handed Hellseeker over and swung onto the bike. Aria immediately squeezed off a couple of shots. A heartbeat later, the Ducati wailed to life and we barreled down the moonlit streets, five flying skulls in hot pursuit.

  Not even yours truly could claim it felt like another day on the job.

  15

  The Ducati’s engine bashed the night as we hurtled through the nocturnal urban landscape. A quick glance at the bike’s rear-view mirror revealed three glowing skulls hurtling after us in hot pursuit. Which was bad enough but also made me wonder where the other two skulls might be.

  I received my answer a split second later as the air distorted with sizzling magical energy and the missing skulls popped up twenty feet in front of us.

  I cut a sharp left and blasted into a narrow alley, hoping to shake off my black magic pursuers. Aria shifted behind me, one arm tightly wrapped around my waist while the other brought up Hellseeker. It felt weird having someone else handle my gun, but Aria was right. Steering and shooting at the same time only worked well in the movies.

  A chilling shriek ruptured the silence, and I figured Aria must’ve hit one of the flying skulls. Good girl. Hellseeker couldn’t destroy the servants of darkness, but a direct hit would at least slow them down.

  I burst from the alley, turned left, and was back on a deserted main road. I could only imagine how this chase would have played out during morning rush hour. Fortunately, it was the middle of the
night, and no one was round to get caught in the crossfire.

  Aria’s gunfire was dying down, the shots sporadic. Were we shaking off our pursuers? Despite the skulls ability to appear out of thin air, I guessed they needed to remain within a certain distance from their master. Without Valdis, their power would wane. Or so I prayed.

  I slowed the bike, sensing that the skulls had given up. Okay, maybe that was the wrong choice of words. The Skull Master had chosen to let us escape. The way I saw it, there was only one explanation: Valdis had bigger fish to fry. Meaning he was most likely focusing his attention on victim number six. Why waste time on us when he could get his hands on the sixth skull?

  I had to warn Skulick. Right now. Our warehouse was protected by both mystical and electronic security systems, but those defenses could be breached by a strong or cunning adversary. The Skull Master was an opponent I didn’t want to underestimate.

  The bike screamed down the empty streets for another minute until I was finally convinced that we were in the clear.

  I stopped the bike and turned my attention to Aria. There was a faraway expression in her brown eyes. She was still processing things, trying to make logical sense of what was happening but failing to do so. Nevertheless, she managed a brave smile.

  “You deal with these things all the time, right?”

  “Not really. Flying skulls are weird even for me.”

  Her grin faltered and her face turned serious. She palmed her cell and patched Valdis’ address through to the FBI. After she told them to send more men to Valdis’ home, along with a team of medics, she killed the call. Her eyes found mine, shiny with tears she refused to shed. She knew all too well the FBI agents she’d left back at the killer’s house were gone. Still, she somehow managed to maintain her professional cool. Aria Giovanni was one tough cookie. I’d seen some hardened badasses break down when they first encountered the forces of darkness.

  “All the stories about the executioner weren’t just stories. It all really happened,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

  “And it will happen again if we don’t stop Valdis.”

  “How do you stop a monster like that? I hit the skulls—I know I did. I thought your weapon was effective against monsters…”

  “Depends on the monster. Hellseeker works best against low-level demons. Stronger opponents require other methods.”

  “What other methods?”

  Good question. Truth be told. I had no specific solutions for the problem at hand.

  “The Demon Slayer,” Cyon whispered in my mind.

  I considered his suggestion. I had wielded the magical sword only once in Switzerland and hadn’t used it since. Would the sword be powerful enough to destroy Valdis? Only one way to find out.

  “The Skull Master is after my partner,” I said.

  I quickly recounted what I had discovered back at Valdis’ place. Aria listened intently, brows knitted in concentration.

  “Did you see a picture of the seventh victim?”

  “I don’t know. I was so shocked when I saw Skulick’s photo. Maybe he hasn’t picked out the seventh victim yet.”

  Except that if those files were any indicator, Vardis was meticulous about how he selected his victims. There should have been something about victim number seven, now that Aria mentioned it.

  “Right now, I’m more worried about my partner,” I said, impatience in my voice.

  It was my turn to make a call. Naturally, Skulick didn’t pick up. The man had the sleeping habits of a bat most of the time, but the one night when some monster was after him, he decided to catch up on his beauty sleep. I refused to think there was some other, more sinister explanation for why he couldn’t come to the phone.

  “No luck?” Aria asked.

  I shook my head. “I have to get back to my place before Valdis does.”

  I took note of the large dark red spot on Aria’s forearm.

  “You’re coming with me,” I decided.

  This earned me a long, hard look. “Why?”

  “You’ve been bitten by one of those things. You may need something stronger than antibiotics.”

  I sensed her reluctance to dive any further down this rabbit hole, but something in my voice must have cracked through it. Aria’s resilience under pressure confirmed my initial impression of the art cop.

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  “How bad is the pain?”

  “I can manage.”

  I was about to start the bike when Aria gripped my shoulder. I faced her, aware of the closeness between us. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since the romp with the bartender, but I hadn’t really been present for that. Feeling Aria pressed against me on the bike made me realize how long it had been since…

  “How do you live with these nightmares and stay sane?” she asked.

  A month ago, when I had teamed with Archer to battle the Soul Catcher, she had asked me the same question. How do you carry on knowing the horrors are real? For that matter, how do you keep going when a demon has clawed its way into your soul?

  Before I could even attempt an answer, Aria said, “If these demons are real, then so is Satan and Hell and the whole Judeo-Christian pantheon…” She was talking like someone trained in religion, archeology and art history, to whom every bit of ancient wisdom had been merely a metaphor and not a non-fictional account of what had really happened.

  “Never met Satan, but I’ve run into plenty of demons.” I don’t think Aria heard me.

  “I’ve studied the Bible, know the history, but I was never a believer.” Her voice was trembling now. “I’ve always been too aware of the beliefs of other cultures to accept one absolute truth.”

  “I don’t know if there is one absolute truth.”

  That got her attention. “I thought the executioner made a pact with the devil.”

  “He did, but the devil isn’t like anything we can truly imagine.”

  She frowned at me, and I realized I was going to have to give her more of an explanation than that.

  “There are two cosmic forces. Good and evil. The light and the dark. Each culture interprets the same conflict in different ways. Poets dream up names, artists give it form, priests create rituals. The demons and monsters and mythologies of the world are man’s attempt to conceive the inconceivable. The Christians call it Hell, the Celts called it the Otherworld, the Greeks called it the Underworld. Different names for the same thing. For the darkness.”

  “And this darkness is after your friend?”

  I nodded gravely. I knew what her next question would be. Why did I fight the nightmares? Images of my parents sprang to my mind, and for a moment I was ten years old again, facing down the icy beasts Morgal had sent to kill us all. They had taken everything from me, and perhaps I never wanted another little boy to see his parents murdered by demons again.

  “I understand your pain, Raven.” Cyon’s sudden words startled me, catching me momentarily off guard. “It’s a wound that will never heal, yet you draw strength from it.”

  For a change, the demon wasn’t wisecracking at my expense or trying to point out my many flaws. If I didn’t know better, he almost sounded regretful, as if he wished to apologize for an act committed by his unholy brethren. Was the demon developing empathy for his host?

  I killed the thought and fired up the Ducati before Aria could ask anything else. Time was running out. We had to reach the warehouse before the Skull Master did.

  The drive cleared my head. There was only the road, the feel of Aria’s arms around my waist, and the inky streets ahead. The dormant metropolis was slowly coming back to life. I was starting to see other vehicles besides my own on the road. It had to be almost five o’clock in the morning by now. I had never looked forward so much to morning. Skulls and monsters just seemed less real in the harsh glare of sunlight.

  As I pulled up to the loft, I couldn’t quite shake my growing sense of unease. Was I too late? Judging from all outside appearances, the Skull
Master hadn’t struck yet. There were no signs that any of the ward-protected windows or entrances had been breached. Still, I felt uneasy, dread pooling in my gut.

  “Are we too late?” Aria asked, grimacing in pain. The adrenaline had to be wearing off, and she was beginning to feel the agony of the vicious skull bite. Skulick kept a collection of salves and healing potions in our loft, and I hoped one of them would help.

  The garage rumbled open as I approached, the security’s system’s facial recognition software confirming my identity.

  I pulled into the large parking structure, which seemed lonely without the Equus Bass in it. Only Skulick’s Humvee sat forlornly in the garage, collecting dust. He had barely left the loft since becoming wheelchair-bound, knowing that he would make an easy target if he dared to venture beyond the warded walls. The loft had become both a fortress and a prison.

  “So is this the batcave?” Aria said, managing a smile through her pain.

  “Batman wishes he was as cool as us.” I flashed her a grin. My mood brightened. We had made it in time. By now my scar would have warned me if any black magic attacks had occurred within the last hour.

  I headed for the elevator, Aria by my side. Less than a minute later, we stepped out of the lift and walked up to Skulick’s desk. Even though I had convinced myself that everything was okay, I was relieved to see my partner doing what he did best. Watching over the Cursed City, no matter what hour of the day. It still it didn’t explain why he hadn’t answered my phone call earlier. Didn’t explain why he wasn’t saying anything now. The feeling that something was terribly wrong returned. I nodded at Aria to stay put as I advanced toward the desk.