Death March: Black Magic Outlaw

by Domino Finn

  I sighed. Shen wore rose-colored glasses when it came to his organization, but I was probably biased the opposite way. After all, the drug money and dirty politicians had been Connor's play. The Society just had to put up with him. And our past beef had more to do with me lugging a necromantic artifact of power around the city than anything else. In some ways, they had a point. I decided to take a shot. "What do you think of the idea that the Manifesto Killer is someone from the Society? Cleaning up the trash—that sort of thing?"

  He killed his burger and shook his head. "You think you're smart, but you're not. You said it yourself. Manifesto's going after public figures. Performers. The fact that Marie was one of us was pure chance. The previous victims had no Society associations, and Quentin Capshaw couldn't find his ass with a mirror. I hate to break it to you, Cisco, but this is just a deluded psychopath going after low-hanging fruit."

  It was a sound theory, but I didn't think it was a good idea to underestimate the killer. I didn't doubt the crazy part, but there was a reason Society leadership was taking this so seriously. I couldn't shake the feeling they knew something we didn't.

  I licked my salty fingers and leaned back with a satisfied sigh. After last night's steak and this burger, I could do without meat for a week. As I enjoyed my full stomach, I spotted a security camera on the ceiling. I scanned the rafters and saw a few more.

  "Hey, Quentin said his briefcase was stolen yesterday during lunch, right?" I pointed at the surveillance. "If we look up the footage, we might get a hit."

  Shen looked around and slowly nodded. "You're not as dumb as you look."

  I stood and tossed a few twenties on the table. "I got something to do right now. Can you take care of that?"

  He paused. "Are you serious?"

  "What?"

  "You're ditching the investigation?"

  "No. I just need to pick up my friend's kid from school."

  "What happened to boots on the ground?"

  "Come on, Shen. We don't both need to comb through security footage. Besides, your social hacking skills will come in handy. I would just be an 'unstable hotshot' in there."

  He sniggered. "Sure, whatever. You can stick to the hard jobs, like picking up coffee and croquettes. Don't worry about me, Mr. Dedicated. I'll grab an Uber home." He stormed away from the table.

  "Sorry I have a life," I called back, but it fell on deaf ears.

  Jeez, buy the dude lunch and he cops an attitude. And just when I thought we were getting somewhere.

  Chapter 25

  I pulled the Firebird to the curb and scanned the rolling lawn of the park. Coconut Grove was a lush neighborhood of snaking roads and trees. There were nice areas and rough areas, of course, but this one was especially picturesque. Fran's magnet school was only a block away so tons of the kids congregated here when they got out. Full-on soccer games had been known to break out, but the kids mostly did whatever kind of socializing sixth graders got up to.

  I didn't see Fran so I checked the car's clock against my phone's time. I was a few minutes early, likely due to Shen's incredible congeniality. I waited a minute and scanned the crowd some more, keeping an eye out for her friend Nicole as well.

  With the phone in my hand I went through some of the Manifesto pictures. There wasn't a lot to go on. The ciphers were the only evidence that deserved some thought, but they were too opaque to make out. After Fran's lesson I would check with Evan and Emily to see what they had and go from there. I set the phone down and looked up at the trees through the open T-top roof of the Trans Am. The wind rustled through the leaves and I tried to relax.

  A scream broke my reverie. I jerked my head around and zeroed in on it. Two boys fighting, over a textbook of all things. I took a breath and scanned the park again, growing unnaturally worried. Was this my instinct as an animist or was I just a worried father? Jeez, parenting was gonna make me go gray.

  Finally, I spotted Fran at the other end of the park. She looked to be having—I wouldn't call it an argument—a disagreement with Nicole. Fran pulled her friend away from the far curb, but Nicole ignored her.

  That was odd. Those two were thick as thieves. I frowned and watched as the two girls approached a parked black van.

  I leapt out of the car and charged them. I couldn't be sure it was the same black van that had been following me, but it had signature Obsidian March markings. Limo tints. A windshield shade. Damn it.

  "Fran!" I called as I ran. The side door swung shut. I skidded to a stop. Fran and Nicole were gone. Had they—

  The van peeled out, leaving me certain the girls were inside. I realized Fran's magnet school wasn't technically in Brickell. It was outside Beaumont's protection. The vampires were coming after us.

  I pulled a one-eighty and hurried back to the Firebird. I wasted no time pulling a Dukes of Hazzard move and jumping into the open convertible, starting the car, and racing after that van.

  Whoever was driving it was dead.

  The residential streets were quiet, but I'd lost track of them. I swerved around a slow car with blinkers on and looked both ways down an intersection. Nothing. I cursed and floored the pedal, going from zero to sixty to zero in the span of a single block. As my tires screeched to a stop, I checked the streets. The van crossed one block over.

  I growled and turned after them. They'd been zigzagging after the initial kidnapping and had almost lost me, keyword being almost. As I screamed around the corner, they merged onto a major artery ahead.

  "Come on, Fran," I said to myself, adrenaline pumping fast and heavy. "Be smart. Stay alive."

  I tried burning through to the street but had to veer away from a collision. Traffic was backed up in two lanes. The van swerved over double yellow lines and drove against light traffic going the opposite way.

  I pulled across one lane but a Range Rover blocked my path through. I laid on my horn, but the lady either didn't notice or didn't care. Her car was stopped, and she was eyeing the mirror as she lined mascara on way too thick.

  I honked, released a string of profanities, and flashed the universal gesture for "Get the fuck outta my way." She was oblivious.

  I shifted into reverse and curled out of there by gunning it on the right side of the road. I flew by stopped traffic, quickly ran out of road, and drilled onto the sidewalk. It was a bumpy ride but a clear one.

  The van ahead broke left down a street. By the time I caught up I couldn't make it through. I overshot them until I could cut everyone off at a stoplight and hook around. I returned down the street and gassed it again, V8 screaming as they disappeared in the distance. Somewhere behind me, a police siren flared to life.

  I didn't care about them. I wasn't the bad guy here. I wasn't even an outlaw at the moment. I had witnessed a double kidnapping and was in pursuit—no one would blame me for that. I was almost at the end of the block when the red and blues joined the chase. I skidded around the corner and hoped they hadn't seen me.

  We were entering an industrial district now, with wide lanes and dead ends. It was a tactical error on the van's part, and it was only a matter of time before I cornered them. The Trans Am roared through a final turn and my eyes widened. The van was parked in the middle of the road, doors open. I hit the brakes and slammed to a halt.

  "Fran!"

  I leapt from the car with my shotgun ready. The smell of burnt rubber wafted over the hot asphalt. I flanked the van. A man in the driver seat hissed at me from the open door. Before he could move, I blasted him, center mass. A cone of fire tore him apart and blood gushed from his magical heart.

  I furrowed my brow. I couldn't tell why the van had stopped. The police siren closed in. I ran to the far side of the van. The sliding door was open. The vehicle was empty. My heart fluttered.

  I spun to the nearby warehouse. An access ramp beside the building sloped down into a subterranean parking lot. I charged that way.

  "Fran!" I bellowed.

  I turned the corner in the darkness and saw them. Nicole, huddled on
the ground, hugging her knees. Fran stood between her and a fully transformed upir in a menacing stance, salivating wildly.

  Except... he wasn't moving.

  The vampire hissed, eyes white and wide, tongue blood-red. It trembled with rage. I rounded on them as Fran, eyes narrowed, held a single hand forward. She was shaking too, but her words came with practiced calm.

  "Leave... us... alone."

  She hissed. Something in the vampire snapped. He choked out some kind of embarrassing squeak that surprised even him. Then his heart exploded from his chest.

  The blackened husk toppled to the cement and crumbled to ash.

  "What the hell?" I said. I scanned the room for more vamps. We were alone. Fran was okay. Nicole was crying, but unhurt. I ran to Fran and hugged her. "What did you do?"

  She blinked several times, having trouble focusing on me, or on anything for that matter. But she came back to me. "Null magic," she said, putting her hand on my chest over my heart. "You said it was their magical core."

  I just stared at her in shock: that she had done what she did, that she was still alive. I had no idea null magic could disenchant the very body of a vampire.

  "Police! Don't move!"

  Footsteps stomped down the ramp. I dropped my shotty into the shadows where it vanished. I lifted my arms as two men surrounded us.

  "Don't shoot," I said. "They're kids. They were kidnapped."

  "Get down!"

  The man threw me to the floor. My chest crunched ash that split apart and drifted away.

  "It wasn't him!" snapped Fran. "Leave him alone!"

  "They went that way," I said, pointing deeper into the warehouse. "I scared them off."

  The cop grabbed my arm and pulled it behind my back as he cuffed me. The other cop lifted his pistol to the darkness and cracked a flashlight. "How many?"

  "Two," said Fran. "Scary men wearing masks." She went to console Nicole, who was whimpering quietly. Fran sat beside her and latched on. "We scared them away," she said softly.

  Chapter 26

  "Thank God you're okay," cried Evan. He and Emily were simultaneously smothering their daughter from both sides. It seemed more dangerous than the vampires.

  I sat in the hallway of the police station in handcuffs. I smiled and waited for them to get the worry out of their system. Who was I kidding? They were parents. After something like this, they would worry the rest of their lives. But I let them have their moment.

  "You see?" I grumbled to the nearest officer. "Everything's fine."

  These were City of Miami Police, thankfully. It hadn't made things easier on me per se, but they'd kept me on the holding bench while they notified Evan of what had occurred. I could only guess that he'd been too mortified to clear my name and that was why I was still in cuffs.

  I cleared my throat loud enough to get Evan's attention. He peeled his face from his daughter's shoulder and spotted me. Evan Cross ground his teeth and came over.

  "This guy says he's your friend, Lieutenant," said the officer.

  "Never seen him before in my life," he joked. "Looks like a kidnapper to me."

  The other officer grabbed me roughly by the shoulders before Evan burst out laughing.

  "Very funny," I grumbled. "You know I hate these things." I wiggled the iron bracelets around my waist to put them on display.

  Evan nodded to the officer. "Is he booked?"

  "Not yet. He broke some traffic laws but if he says what happened happened, he's a goddamn hero."

  Evan smiled. "Don't say that. It'll go to his head. I'll take him from here."

  The officer unlocked the handcuffs and walked away.

  Evan sat on the bench beside me. "What the hell happened out there?"

  "Well, it's not the statement I gave for the official police report, I'll tell you that much."

  His eyes darkened. "The Obsidian March."

  I nodded grimly. "Same way they nabbed that Gendra kid. Her school's not in Brickell."

  Evan worked his jaw. "We'll need to move her."

  "No, Dad. I like it there." Fran and Emily approached in a huddle. Emily wouldn't let go.

  He shook his head. "You don't understand, honey."

  "About the vampires? I know about them."

  Evan hurriedly checked the hallway. We were alone.

  "Cisco told me," she said.

  His eyes narrowed. "He shouldn't bother you with that stuff. And it's not safe at that school if they're after you."

  "They were after Nicole, Dad. Not me. I got in the van to save her."

  We all blinked dumbly, the thought having not occurred to any of us.

  "You what?" he said. "That was a very dangerous thing to do, Francesca."

  "Not really," she returned. My eyes shot to her in warning.

  I successfully hid the gesture from Evan, but Emily caught me. "What is it?" she asked.

  "It's nothing."

  "Cisco," she warned in a low tone.

  Evan swiveled his head between us. "What is it? Did you have something to do with this, Cisco?"

  "No," I said truthfully. "I'm as surprised as you are. These guys don't know about Fran. In fact, she mentioned some creeps were bugging Nicole at the park yesterday afternoon, before our meeting with the vamps." I looked up at them with relief. "This was completely random."

  Evan was still processing that, but Emily wasn't satisfied. "But..." she prodded.

  "We have to tell them, Cisco," said Fran.

  "Tell us what?"

  I jutted my lip out. "Let's go somewhere more private first." I stood to go.

  Evan nodded authoritatively. "Let's do that."

  We marched down the hall just as Special Agent Rita Bell turned in and approached.

  "Aw, hell," I said.

  "What is this man doing out of custody?" she demanded to the general vicinity. "I asked for him to be held until I arrived." The officers in the distance spun around and pretended to be mid conversation. She rolled her eyes.

  The tall woman stopped before me with hands on her hips, reminding me entirely too much of Evan. "Cisco Suarez. How is it you find yourself arrested twice in two days?"

  "He's not under arrest," stated Evan. "He was a witness to a crime."

  She stared at me pointedly.

  "And what are you doing?" I fired back. "A police department goodwill tour?"

  "I'm working a case. And I'm curious to know how you're involved."

  "This is a completely separate matter," assured Evan.

  Her indignant expression only heightened at his presence. "Where were you two days ago?"

  I grumbled. "I didn't kill the fortune teller."

  Her eyes suddenly lit up. She drew her gun in a flash, stepped backward to create distance, and kept it pointed at the low ready.

  "What are you doing?" demanded Evan.

  "Marie Devereaux's murder hasn't been announced to the public," she said hotly. "How do you know about that?"

  She had me. She was digging into my alibi. Rita hadn't known about Devereaux yesterday—the letter had only come out this morning, after the scene was all cleaned up—so now she wanted to question me about it. Only I wasn't supposed to know about it at all.

  Evan stepped between Rita and Fran. "Alleged murder," he corrected. "Holster your weapon, Agent Bell. This is my family."

  She lowered the firearm further. "He's my suspect and he has information he shouldn't have."

  "About the Manifesto Killer," said Evan. "I told him about Marie Devereaux. City searched her home first. We handed over one of the letters to you. Of course we know about it."

  A crowd of officers gathered close. Rita was suitably admonished and quickly holstered her sidearm. But then her lashes flared. "Have you told the locals what we talked about?" she asked me.

  I shrugged. "He asked, I answered. I couldn't interfere with an active police investigation."

  "I could bring charges against you."

  "Cool down," ordered Evan. "We're supposed to be cooperating on th
is, aren't we?"

  "This is a federal case. And since Devereaux hasn't been found yet, the only confirmed murder happened in Fort Lauderdale. Outside your jurisdiction."

  "Wrong," he said. "Victim number two, one Javier Gomez, was recovered over a week ago in Homestead."

  Both Rita and I simultaneously said, "Who?"

  Evan turned to me and shook his head slightly. "The piper."

  "Oh." I'd never actually gotten his name.

  "What are you talking about?" demanded Rita. "There was no victim a week ago."

  Fran broke from my grip and headed into the room where Nicole sat. Her parents hadn't arrived yet. Emily brushed her hair on the way past and made sure she was okay before returning.

  The group of cops grew and closed in as Evan explained. "Sure there was. Manifesto killed a performance magician but accidentally burned his house down. We believe the mistake precluded a note."

  She frowned. "You're required to forward us all related information, officer."

  "Lieutenant. And it was just a normal homicide case until we linked it."

  "To my case."

  "Even though the first homicide was outside city limits, subsequent actions have proved the killer is operating in Miami. We're investigating this case alongside you, like it or not."

  That actually shut her up for a second. The officer peanut gallery chuckled, enraging her even more. "Who's your supervisor, Lieutenant? In fact, belay that. I can put a call directly to your police chief if you like."

  Evan smiled. "That's all right. I'm on special assignment running the DROP team for his boss, the mayor."

  The officers couldn't contain their bellows. Rita bit her lip and ignored them. One cop behind her pulled out his ASP and put it up to his mouth. He made a sucking motion to the delight of everyone else. As Rita was staring right at me, I pretended not to notice the show behind her back. It was hard.

  Rita remained rigid. "I want everything you have."

  "Of course," replied Evan. "If you follow in kind."

  She sneered. The officer behind her held the ASP to the side of his face but stood in profile. It achieved the masterful effect of appearing to deep throat the baton. I tried to keep a straight face, but when he tickled imaginary balls I lost it. Rita spun around. An officer clapped the offending cop on the back and he swung the ASP low and starting coughing.