Death March: Black Magic Outlaw

by Domino Finn

  "It was nothing," I said. "Don't worry about it." I eyed Kasper, but decided I could trust him. I stood and dimmed the lights. Then I teased the shadow with my fingers. A finger of darkness pulled away from an unlit corner. "We could get a quick lesson in."

  Excitement splayed across her face, but she quickly tempered it into full concentration. She sat up straight on the couch and studied my string of shadow. Kasper peeked an eye open and watched as my construct vanished in a blink.

  She laughed. "Got it! That was easy."

  Unbeknownst to her parents, Fran had begun spellcraft coaching at the age of seven. Not by me—I wouldn't have crossed that line. But what was done was done. Now that she had the talent, I felt an obligation to continue her instruction. Magic without guidance was a dangerous thing. At first, I was just curious what she could do, but as we started the lessons, I was more and more fascinated by what I saw.

  "Null magic," whispered Kasper with just a hint of awe. "You got someone to teach you null magic."

  "Not just anyone," I said. "An egomaniacal drug kingpin."

  "Connor Hatch?"

  "Yes. Which is why I'm making sure she exercises proper judgment with it now." I turned back to my daughter. I wasn't familiar with her patron. I couldn't cast her spells. But magic was more instinctual than textbook. I knew what it meant to channel the Intrinsics. And I knew that she needed practice. "Let's try something a little harder."

  I manifested a bundle of shadow. It took more time and effort on my part to set up, but it was in the span of seconds. I stretched it into a wall, stood behind it, and said, "See if you can get to me."

  Kasper scoffed. "You call that harder? That's just a bit of darkness."

  I smirked. "Try it."

  "You serious, broham? You don't want to go toe to toe with me again, do you?"

  I'd learned a while back that Kasper was a tank now. He had so many defensive wards tattooed on his body that he could absorb damage all day and be fine. I couldn't beat him in a boxing match, and I didn't know anybody that could.

  But animists weren't built for boxing matches. There was a wide variety of spellcraft that, if not exactly harmful to Kasper, could easily defeat him.

  "Bring it on, old man," I challenged.

  He eagerly rose from the massage chair. "Don't say I didn't warn you." Without further pretense, he stomped straight into my shadow.

  It held him back like a soft cushion over a brick wall. He grunted, stepped back, and slammed his shoulder into it. The glyphs on his body flared and he managed to penetrate the wall more than before, but it still stopped him cold.

  Kasper's wards were defensive. It was his specialty, so I doubted a week of trying would net more success. I chuckled. "Now how about we allow the student to continue her lesson?"

  He grumbled and pulled away. "Just trying to make you look good in front of the kid." He returned to the massage chair.

  "I'm not a kid," said Fran. She walked to the wall and pressed her hands into it.

  I wasn't going easy on her this time. The wall wasn't an afterthought. It was an active construct I was putting my will into. I didn't need full concentration or anything, but I was pumping power into it nonetheless. She was clearly struggling, getting about as far as Kasper had.

  "It's... too solid," she said.

  "Don't think about the physicality of it," I instructed. "Shadow is anything but."

  "But I feel it."

  "Forget about your hands. Feel it with your head. Your heart."

  She scrunched her eyebrows together and leaned into the construct, breathing harder.

  "Relax. Adrenaline is good. Emotion is good. Frustration isn't."

  She nodded. Her breathing slowed and grew more regular. Deep breaths. Her brow eased and her eyes locked on the center of the shadow manifestation. I couldn't recall ever seeing her so serious.

  Fran pushed deeper into the shadow. Kasper's eyes widened in disbelief. My daughter was halfway through it when she hit a snag. Her mouth twitched. She strained under the effort. The wall held.

  "I can't," she said, giving up.

  I nodded and dispersed the darkness. I could've given it to her, weakened the spellcraft so she would succeed, but she was already gifted enough with weaker constructs. I wanted to offer her something to strive for. A victory that would be meaningful when it finally came, not because it was awarded to her but because it was earned.

  "Don't worry," I said, kneeling and giving her an encouraging hug. "That's a great first try. That one's not easy. It's meant to keep me alive in scary situations."

  "It's just..." She chewed her lip. "For a second, it felt like I could actually do it. It was in my grasp."

  "I'm sure it was. Don't rush it. That's what these lessons are for. You'll get there."

  After mulling it over, she nodded. She was a bright girl, but she needed the assurance. The best thing a parent can do for their kid is believe in them. Not that I was in the best position to give advice, but I knew that much.

  "You did better than I did," noted Kasper.

  She smiled and gave him a high five. "Can we try that one again in the next lesson?" she asked me.

  "Why not keep it up now?"

  She shrugged. "I figured you had to get ready for your dinner party."

  "Dinner par..." My jaw sagged.

  Crap. It was nearly evening and I had dinner plans tonight. And not just any plans, but Evan and Emily's fifth wedding anniversary.

  I knew I was forgetting something.

  I swore. Briefly considered pushing the time. I had promised I wouldn't screw up their night, practically begged Evan and Emily to leave their anniversary in my hands. They'd been skeptical, maybe rightly so, which especially meant I had to pull this off without a hitch.

  And really, what was stopping me? I had to eat, right? It would be a good opportunity to talk to them about the Manifesto Killer, which I was going to do anyway. I wasn't about to let a rando psycho infringe on our night.

  So not only was I gonna do this, I was gonna rock it. And part of my responsibility tonight was...

  "Hey, Kasper. I know this is last second but... can you babysit?"

  Knowing Kasper, he wasn't doing anything else tonight but lounging alone at the tattoo parlor where he lived. Spending the night at my condo would be a luxurious change of pace. "Why not?" he said.

  Fran was enthusiastic about my choice of sitter. "Cool! This'll be much more fun than hanging around grandpa's house with my brother. I'll text my dad."

  "Just don't have too much fun," I said jokingly. Then my eyes narrowed. "And no tattoos."

  The old man stood up. "Working all day left me a little sore. And a sweaty wreck." He frowned at my massage chair. "Mind if I use your shower?"

  "Mind? Mi casa es su casa. Go for it. When you're done you can raid the fridge. I stocked it with those Cigar City brews you like."

  "My man!" He disappeared into the hall.

  "You're gonna be fine?" I asked Fran.

  She was back on her tablet again. "I could ask you the same question, Cisco. Didn't you used to be boyfriend-girlfriend with my mom?"

  "None of your business."

  I pulled out my cell phone and stepped to the window for privacy. Em and I had moved on a long time ago. Evan was my best friend and was treating her right, not to mention the hell of a job he did with my daughter when I hadn't been around. There were no worries on that front. Hell, the whole reason I wanted to give them this night was to show them how good I was with the situation.

  But something about dinner did make me nervous. I texted Milena: "You still on for tonight?"

  Things between us had been weird ever since I came back. Sometimes on, sometimes off—after what had happened last year I'd kinda let the dust settle. And now that I'd returned and was ready to put down roots, things had never felt the same.

  Honestly, it was all my jackass fault for not making a move. I was in real danger of falling into the friend zone. I'd been hoping I could change that t
onight.

  Kasper peeked out from the bathroom. "Cisco, your shower is next to a floor-to-ceiling window."

  I chuckled, still on edge. "It's fine. No one can see in from the outside."

  He looked uncertain but shrugged. "Okay, but if I frighten any fragile ladies in the next-door building, it's on you." He returned to the bathroom.

  My phone chimed. Milena had gotten back to me. "Of course I'm coming. I wouldn't miss their anni dinner!" She seemed enthused, at least. A follow-up text came in. "You're not planning on wearing your white tank top, are you?"

  I looked down at my battered clothes and laughed. I guess I needed a shower too. I disappeared into my bedroom and prepared for the big night.

  Chapter 14

  "Wow," beamed Emily. "This is actually a really nice place, Cisco."

  "Don't act so surprised."

  The host sat us at a large round table with a traditional white tablecloth. I let Evan and Emily get the best view of the jazz band. I sat at the worst angle, leaving the empty seat, for Milena, with a nice view as well.

  This joint was all the rage these days. Despite only being open a year, Carbon had already won several prestigious awards. It was sleek and oozed cool and the food was reportedly top-notch. The buzz assured that reservations were extremely hard to come by. My cash had greased those wheels.

  I liked the place, too. Half traditional steakhouse, half modern hip fusion. The combination provided the best dry-aged beef in Miami with a jazz score that wasn't campy or stuffy. Not bad for sitting a literal block from my condo.

  To properly meet the standards of the place, I'd worn a suit. The jacket hugged my shoulders as I sat so I unbuttoned it. Then I mimicked Evan's move and hung it over the back of my seat. I was hoping he'd loosen his tie so I could follow suit, but it was a no go.

  "Don't look so uncomfortable," said Emily with a lilt in her voice. "You look nice. You should dress up more often."

  I shrugged. I kinda felt like a Ken doll. I accepted the compliment and turned it around on her. "You look great, Em."

  It wasn't lip service. An Australian bombshell with a thin frame—she was elegant fashion-model material. Pretty smile, straight blonde hair falling over her shoulders. She wore a glittery dress and long matching earrings.

  I turned my eyes to Evan. "You clean up okay too, buddy."

  Evan Cross was my contact in the City of Miami police. He worked for the mayor now, a special detail that looked at district-level threats. It gave him some autonomy and connections that were useful. He usually wore polos as a self-styled Matthew McConaughey, but today opted for a light-gray suit and golden shirt that matched his close-cropped hair. I like to think my black-and-purple combo made a more stunning statement. Then again, he wasn't single like me.

  "As least you didn't wear your Diamondbacks tonight," I joked.

  He laughed. "I hope we won't need them."

  The waiter introduced himself and I ordered a bottle of red. Milena texted that she'd be ten minutes late and Emily wanted oysters, so we started off with those while we caught up.

  "You got arrested?!?" Evan laughed so hard wine practically dribbled from his chin.

  "It's not funny, bro. Besides, I was just questioned."

  "But they took you to County?"

  I nodded. "Pretty much."

  He tried to keep a straight face but burst out laughing all over again.

  I glowered. "I'm not even at the interesting part yet. A fed came in to talk to me. Apparently there's a serial killer in Miami they're keeping under wraps."

  His mirth dried up. "What?"

  "He's sending letters to the paper and everything. But get this. He's batshit. Thinks he's on a holy mission from God or something and decides to pick off occult entertainers."

  Emily perked up. "Does this have something to do with the Marvelous Mordane?"

  "Yes! That was the Manifesto Killer."

  "Manifesto?" asked Evan.

  "His anti-magic letters. He also knocked off a musician and a fortune teller just yesterday that nobody knows about yet. But here's the thing." I leaned forward and waited as guests shuffled past. "These entertainers weren't just entertainers. They were legit animists. All three of them. The last was a member of the Society of Free Thinkers."

  Evan hissed. "Those are your Illuminati conspirators, right?"

  "Not quite that dramatic. They're just business people. Turns out some of them are Big Pharma. Their lawyer bailed me out. They want my help catching the guy."

  They traded concerned glances. "Isn't that kind of dangerous?" asked Emily.

  "No more than consulting city cases with your husband," I pointed out.

  "It's not a horrible idea," said Evan. "Working with professionals should keep him out of trouble. He could even curry favor with the feds. FBI, right?"

  I nodded and decided not to mention the vampires.

  Emily frowned. "I'm worried about the Society. They can't be trusted."

  "I'm watching my back. Besides, they're gonna help me with my money problem. Which Fran pointed out to me needs to be dealt with."

  Evan stiffened at my castigation and stuffed an oyster in his mouth to avoid responding. Emily blinked back pleasant surprise at the news. Strengthening my income source would relieve their financial risk, after all.

  "Just don't risk yourself on our account, Cisco."

  "I know. But you can help me, in fact. I brought you a couple of anniversary gifts."

  Evan chortled and found his tongue. "Dude, you're not supposed to get other people anniversary gifts."

  "No worries. They're not fancy. Just a pair of murder weapons in freezer bags."

  Their faces went hard.

  "Don't look at me like that. I'm not dumb enough to bring them into the restaurant. But I was hoping you could run forensics on the knife, Evan. And, Emily, yours is something you're familiar with. A crystal ball."

  Evan's face darkened. He didn't especially like the fact that his wife was an animist too. My best friend wasn't a huge fan of magic. With everything that had befallen us, he had solid justification.

  Emily was a white witch. Just as I commanded darkness, she manipulated light. It was a useful talent that allowed her to refract illusions and run protection circles. She could also scry, to a limited extent.

  She rested her hand on her husband's and said, "I'll do whatever I can, of course. I can finally help with police work."

  He frowned. "Serial killers, jinns, voodoo gangs. Sometimes I wish I could just go back to not knowing about any of it."

  I chewed my lip. This was why I didn't know how to approach him about instructing Fran. Regardless, tonight wasn't the night to open that can of worms. This night was for them, and I was already killing the buzz.

  With impeccable timing to save my ass, Milena wandered into the restaurant. I raised my hand and her searching eyes found me. A smile overtook her face and she waved back excitedly. I couldn't stop a stupid grin from breaking my cool exterior.

  I grabbed the bottle of red and poured Milena a glass. Emily was ahead of us so I topped off hers too. Since that killed the bottle, I spotted the passing waiter and asked for one more.

  No more business. I was determined to have fun for once. I stood to greet Milena. The heat rushed through my body just looking at her. Where Emily was proper sophisticated elegance, Milena was down-and-dirty smoking hot. Short with an hourglass figure, a one-piece spandex ran from her knees to her ample cleavage. Milena's long brown hair fell down her back, and her beautiful eyes and lips smiled as she moved in for the world's sexiest hug.

  We kissed cheeks. This was my babe, and I wanted to hold onto her forever.

  The mood soured when a gangly waiter stood behind her awkwardly.

  "We'll take her from here," I joked. I waited as Milena kissed and said hello to my friends and apologized for being late. It was the Cuban way, both the kisses and the tardiness. Then, as she sat, the waiter bumped me trying to push her chair in like a gentleman.

&n
bsp; "Oh, I'm sorry," said Milena. "This is Gavin."

  We all looked at the awkward guy.

  "The waiter?" I asked.

  He shuffled nervously.

  Milena playfully slapped my side. "He's not a waiter, tonto. He's my date."

  My tongue stuck in my throat. Gavin was wearing the same black-suit-white-shirt-red-tie combo as the steakhouse staff. Besides that gaffe and some nervous jitters, he was a normal-enough-looking guy, but dating Milena? She was a bombshell by any measure.

  "Your..."

  I picked up my wine glass and pulled it to my mouth. Expert stalling tactic. I killed it off, thankful it was almost empty anyway so my exasperation wasn't obvious. Hopefully.

  Evan smirked and watched as Gavin held out his hand for me to shake. I made sure my grip was nice and firm.

  Chapter 15

  "Oh," said Milena, looking around. "We need another chair."

  Everyone was sitting now except Gavin and me.

  "Cisco," whispered Emily. Her eyes jerked toward the extended handshake.

  "Oh," I said, releasing Gavin. He pulled his hand away, relieved.

  A busboy approached with an extra chair. I frowned at the table layout and decided to scoot me and Milena down. It put my back to the jazz band. Before I could ask Milena to slide over, the busboy placed the extra chair in my old spot and Gavin sat down. Milena was already trading conspiratorial whispers beside Emily.

  I ground my teeth and slid my chair further down next to Evan instead of Gavin, leaving a vacant area easily explained due to the size of the table and the position of the stage.

  Evan punched my shoulder as I sat. "Sorry, dude," he mouthed.

  The staff helpfully reset the table and everyone's attention turned to the menus. We ordered steaks and duck-fat fries and roasted cauliflower and potato gratin and a host of other dishes that didn't sound nearly as appetizing now that Gavin was here. Eventually, everything was in order and the staff left us to ourselves.

  "So this is exciting!" exclaimed Milena to the happy couple. "Is it five years now?"