Death March: Black Magic Outlaw

by Domino Finn

  As unnerving as it was, I had to focus on the larger threat. This was the serial killer's playground. He'd had hours to set his trap. And here I was, good and caught all right. I had done this all wrong. I could just kick myself, but I was definitely gonna kick him first.

  I approached Manifesto guardedly. Same normal-looking guy, no more hoodie.

  "Not a Fins fan anymore?" I asked.

  One hand came around and unzipped the top of the black jacket. Like Superman, he brandished the Dolphins logo below. It was impressive to wear so many layers in Miami, even at night. My only thought was he wanted to die in his favorite hoodie.

  "You realize you won't live to see them win a Superbowl," I said grimly.

  He casually returned his hand to his back. "Who will, really?"

  I didn't have a comeback. He kinda had a point.

  I checked for the owl every twenty seconds or so, not that I could get a good view of the buildings. It kept me on my toes, and I was guessing Manifesto wanted that. For his part he just stood and waited, not afraid of me at all. That confidence was grossly misplaced.

  "So I'm here," I said. "What is this about?"

  Manifesto didn't answer.

  "Why are you killing animists?"

  He waited and watched.

  My cheek twitched in anger. I checked for the owl again. "Where's the reporter? You kill him too?"

  "I do not take the lives of the innocent," he proclaimed loudly. "I was bluffing about the shotgun murders. They were just a side effect of the filth in this city."

  "You killed that woman you jacked the car from."

  He bit down. "That was beyond my control. She gave her life to save humanity."

  I scoffed and stepped closer. His hands were still behind his back so I was wary of getting too close while unarmed. I stopped at twenty feet. "You killed to save humanity. Tell me how that works."

  "The people of this world are blind. I used to be as well." He raised a hand to the heavens. "But I shall illuminate the truth."

  "You could've done that without murdering people."

  "I had a hard enough time getting everyone's attention even after I did. Besides," he spat, "those who engage in devilry aren't to be saved. It's my mandate."

  I clenched my jaw. I'd had the fortune (or misfortune) of meeting a real-life angel before. At least a self-styled one. I'd never heard of a Celestial mandate to take out animists. This guy was straight-up crazy.

  But he was dangerous. I had to keep in mind that he'd taken out at least one competent animist.

  "I hate to break it to you, Nathan Bartlett Jones, but you're not special. You're just an everyday person let down by a complicated life. A menial job, a sports team that never gets deep in the playoffs. I'm sure a lack of respect plays in there somewhere. It doesn't matter what triggered this killing spree of yours—it doesn't make you special. You've offed a few people. So what? You'll be a footnote in Miami history."

  He sneered. His eyes dilated and grew to twice their size. His owl eyes resurfaced. Large fixed things that forced him to cock his head in jerky motions like a bird.

  "You ignore my gift."

  "It's a curse."

  "No!" he snapped. He winced and fought off a moment of pain before regaining control.

  I stepped closer. "I can help you," I gently offered. "Spellcraft can alleviate your hurt. I saw you ask Marie Devereaux for help. I know you want it. We can lift your curse if you would just tell me what happened to you."

  His body twitched in indecision. I cut the distance between us to ten feet.

  "Who did this to you?" I asked. "They're your real enemy."

  His dominant hand swung around gripping a pistol. I froze. "Proof!" he announced loudly. "You would decry the holy angels themselves!"

  I raised my hands slowly and shook my head. It appeared I was surrendering but I wanted my palm up to ready my shield. There was shadow beneath the dump truck but I was standing in a wash of light. The shield was my only defense.

  "They're not angels," I calmly asserted. I glanced around for the owl and turned back to him. "You have the gun. You have control. You need to tell me what happened to you."

  "I was given sight," he answered. "I was chosen. For this." Manifesto cocked his head. His entire body tightened and his arm wavered for a split second. Everything told me he was about to fire.

  The Intrinsics sprouted through my palm tattoo as he pulled the trigger. A burst of turquoise energy flared before me and caught the round of lead. I was surprised by how measured his barrage came at me. Fire. Pause. Fire. Pause. It was mechanical. He wasn't even attempting to aim below my relatively small shield.

  I continued deflecting bullets and closed the distance. Finally Manifesto showed an ounce of humanity. Panic. He backed away and lowered the gun to my legs. I dove sideways, under the massive dump truck. The construction vehicle had high clearance but the floodlights were angled enough that substantial shadow enveloped me. I slid from one flank of the truck to the other in a blink. I appeared behind Manifesto. He spun around in surprise but he was slow. I charged the last few feet of bright light to him and batted the pistol from his grip. He reached for my neck and I decked him. Manifesto dropped to the ground.

  I stomped toward him. He pulled a small knife from his ankle, sharp eyes zeroing in on me. He scooted away defensively, further from the shadow of the dump truck.

  "You think I need spellcraft to kill you?" I snarled.

  He jumped at me with a sloppy blow. I barred the weapon with my arm. Protective magic battered the knife from his hand. I caught his neck with one hand and pounded him in the face, again and again. He collapsed, blood spouting from his nose and mouth. He hacked and clawed at the concrete.

  I once again checked for the black owl, but we were alone. "Tell me who did this to you," I demanded.

  Manifesto laughed.

  I glowered, paced away, and scooped up his pistol. I slid the mag down. It still had a round, with one in the chamber. I snapped it back and pointed at his head. "TELL ME WHO SENT YOU!"

  "Idiot!" he spat. "You're under the delusion that I can die." He fixed on a point past the floodlights. "My life will be eternal."

  I followed his gaze but there was nothing to see under the glare. Manifesto shuffled. He reached to his other ankle. His other knife. I rapped his head with the butt of the pistol and laid him out on his back. He coughed viciously and laughed some more.

  The short blade in his grip had blood on it. His opposite arm relaxed beside him, wrist awash with blood. Manifesto had hacked his arteries open. I pounced to stem the flow of blood, but his knife swung again. I shielded my face and recoiled. The knife wasn't meant for me. Manifesto plunged it into his neck.

  I lowered the gun and watched as the man's life left his body. He gurgled in wanton pleasure until he had no more breath. He released a long, final sigh; his eyes returned to normal. Manifesto was finally at peace.

  I swallowed restlessly, knowing I'd defeated him while at the same time doing exactly what he'd wanted.

  Chapter 47

  I paced around the killer's body. He was dead. I didn't know owls, I didn't know curses, but I knew death. Manifesto had come here to execute his final mandate, willing to pay the full price because of his belief in the reward of a lofty afterlife.

  I searched his body. He'd been a bit of a knife nut. A strap on each ankle and a sheath for his lost sword still on his belt. A wallet with a credit card, an ID, and a few bucks cash. That was it. He didn't even have spare ammunition left. I was betting the sum of his possessions had been dropped in that final geocache: a journal and some photos.

  I stomped my heel on the floor. Manifesto hadn't meant to kill me. Not at first, anyway. His initial shot grouping had been directly at my shield. So what had he accomplished here? I checked the sky again. I couldn't see anything past the damn floodlights.

  I aimed his pistol with both arms and fired toward the sky. The bang echoed through the courtyard. I suddenly wondered if the rest o
f Miami could hear me. I didn't care. I took careful aim and hit the target on my second try. A single floodlight shattered and went dark.

  I still had plenty of light on me, but I could now see in the direction I'd come from. The direction Manifesto had looked up to right before he slit his wrist.

  I was being watched.

  As much as I hated leaving his body, I sprinted toward the sloped edge of the courtyard and tossed the empty pistol. I used my hands to claw at the gravel and climb up. Once outside the glare of the construction lighting, I pulled the shadow into my eyes and zeroed in on movement on the third floor. Someone quickly pulled out of sight.

  I set my heels and charged into the towering husk, scanning for a stairwell. A building this size must've had several. There was no way I could cover the whole thing at once so I opted instead for closing speed. I made a beeline for the nearest stairwell, rushed up two flights of stairs, and shambled toward the window position.

  As soon as I cleared the hallway and barged into the room, the black owl swooped in and scraped at me. I executed a low roll and slid through the darkness. It flapped wildly as I appeared behind it. I snatched it through a shower of feathers. It was huge up close, and vicious. Razor claws gashed my chest and ripped my mask away. I held on despite the pain. Wings thrashed, but they were useless in my grip. My right hand punched a stream of amethyst energy right through the thing. Its screech cut out suddenly as it died, probably not even aware of what had hit it.

  Blood splashed my face and dribbled down my arms. I dropped the bird as my skin hissed. I was burning. I rubbed my hands on my jeans and my shirt on my face. The cloth sizzled too. I slipped into shadow. Extraneous clumps of blood glopped to the floor, but much of it made the trip with me. It continued searing my skin, in or out of the darkness. I stifled a scream as it gelled into a substance not unlike napalm.

  I shuffled through my belt pouch, desperate for something to cut the burn. My powders were all toxic and the gel wasn't meant for skin application. I opened a small jar of graveyard dirt and rubbed it on my face. While not enchanted, it was still a useful voodoo tribute. In this case I just wanted the soil to scrape away the acid.

  That small amount done, I bit the bullet and squeezed the toxic gel on my arm. It burned as I rubbed it in. I emptied it over my exposed flesh and dropped the bottle to rub it in. After a stinging flare, the pain slowly faded.

  I panted heavily as I regained my composure. I swallowed bitterly and crawled close to the owl. It had melted into a puddle of goopy tar surrounded by stray black feathers. Whatever it was, good riddance.

  "That was for Thumper," I strained out.

  Satisfied that I'd mitigated the acidic blood, I carefully grabbed a large feather for later study. Then I remembered what I'd come up here for and looked around.

  The large space was mostly empty. A chair rested on its back by the ledge. I trudged over and flipped it to its feet. Bindings on the front chair legs had been untied. Someone had been here. I turned to the well-lit courtyard below. Someone who'd had a front row seat to our little showdown.

  Whoever it was had been afforded ample time to get away. Between needing to navigate up here and the distraction of the burning blood, our surprise guest could be a mile away. The black owl had seen to that.

  I turned back to Manifesto, a lone figure sprawled out in a pool of red. Even in the end, the spotlights were on him. Maybe I should do something about that.

  As I gazed at the ground, shadowy figures darted between the buildings. Humanoids, pitch black from head to toe except for milky-white eyes and ravenous teeth.

  I stepped away from the vantage point. Vampires.

  This wasn't right. How did they know I was here? I scanned the room for any other clues before my eyes landed on my sawed-off. The owl had been kind enough to drop it up here for me. I stomped over and recovered it. The stock felt reassuring in my grip. It was still loaded.

  "Cisco!" yelled Magnus from somewhere out of sight. "We know you're here. We can smell it."

  I hurried back to the window and crouched. More and more vamps flooded the construction site. I stopped estimating their numbers at forty. I was an eternal optimist and didn't want to see that change.

  "This is unfortunate," I admitted.

  Pops echoed off the surrounding buildings. Something whizzed past my face and struck the ceiling with a bang. I was taking fire. I lowered my head and weapon and pulled the trigger. I caught a bloodsucker taking aim. He caught fire but at this range the buckshot didn't destroy his heart. Suddenly a host of weapons turned my way. I ducked as semi-automatic fire riddled my perch.

  Time to dig deep into the well. I emptied the plastic Easter eggs from my belt pouch and bombed the gunners below. Green for sickening agents, white for sleep powder, blue for hallucinatory poison that utterly confused enemies. Eggs burst and clouded the grounds. I rained down my entire arsenal into their ranks. None of it would do any real damage, but the lot of them scattered. Toxins swirled across the front of my buildings. Hopefully they would delay any kind of united offensive.

  Besides a few shotgun shells, my only remaining spell tokens were things like a mirror and some birthday candles. Necromancy stuff that didn't do me much good under present circumstances. I had sidewalk chalk to make a protective circle, but I wasn't versed in Emily's white magic. I could secure a perimeter against spirits, but physical Nether fiends would laugh off the barrier.

  Sounds echoed from the stairway. I loaded a round from the belt pouch and converged on it. They burst through the door before I got there. The first one took a load right into the heart and exploded. I cracked the breach and reloaded from the sidesaddle in a smooth motion. The second vampire lunged. Still going full speed, I slid to my haunches as the black carapace shot over me. While it passed, my sawed-off emptied into its chest. Blood rained like a sprinkler.

  I skidded to the doorway as a third emerged before I could reload. A freight train of shadow collided with it, large and impenetrable. The vampire bowled over her friends, stuttering their advance. By the time they got around her, I blasted another cone of magical fire down the narrow stairway. They sizzled and screamed.

  My sidesaddle was empty, so I reached for my belt one after another. Crack, chamber, crack, BOOM. Crack, chamber, crack, BOOM. The spark powder did much more than burn unnaturally—it filled the entire stairwell with smoke and flames. The concentrated heat wafted through the doorway over me. It was so hot I had to step away. The effect inside the confined space was easily multiplied.

  The vampires bellowed. Reinforcements charged up the steps only to find themselves trapped in a kill box. Superheated buckshot tore into hearts at point-blank range. Where the pellets missed, the magical flames finished the job. It was utterly glorious, but it couldn't last forever.

  I slotted the last shell into the chamber, cursing when I saw it was nonlethal. I aimed at the next bunch of attackers and fired. Glue expanded outward and plastered the bottom of the steps. It quickly hardened and gummed up a pack of bloodsuckers. I dropped the shotgun into the shadow and dove into the smoke.

  As I flew past surprised vampires, the darksword sprouted from my fist. Dramatic purple light slashed through two vamps on the way past. I skewered a third against the wall that stopped me. It was a ballsy move they hadn't expected, but they were carnivores through and through. They brandished daggerlike claws and came at me.

  In close quarters, with this many of them, they were faster than I thought. It had been one thing in the drug house when three of us had surprised them, but these vamps were a tactical kill squad. They came fast and heavy. My sword dismantled incoming black claws, but I only had one of them. Others raked at my arms and sides. My toughened skin only barely kept the wounds from being lethal.

  I muddied the entire room with shadow and slipped into it, darting here and there. Rather than it holding me back, I thrived in the claustrophobic space. I only became physical when it was time to strike. I lunged from my protection, spawned my darkswor
d mid swing, and retreated. It was maddening for them, especially since they kept slipping in the bloody ashes of their fallen. Amid the chaos, I spawned several tentacles to grasp at anything nearby.

  Hearts burst faster than I could count. The air was thick with blood. So many down, but ten more filled their ranks. Then ten more followed. The bottlenecked quarters were to my advantage, but the vampires grew wiser. They crawled along the walls and the sloped ceiling to come at me in larger numbers. Their attacks came faster. Slowly, they backed me up the steps. They were overtaking my position.

  I yelped as a claw caught the side of my head and nearly tore my ear off. I lunged through the shadow and dove through the doorway at the top of the staircase where I had started. An arm of spellcraft slammed the metal door tight and jammed it in place. Powerful fists dented the door. It deformed and bent away from the frame. Even with my spellcraft propping it up, the barrier would only hold for seconds.

  Footsteps skittered around me. A vampire scaled from the exterior of the building and mounted onto the floor. They already had me surrounded.

  I lived in the shadows. I was formidable in enclosed spaces, but there were too many of them. As the stairwell door burst open, I charged the lone vampire approaching from the window. Two others surged into the room, but they couldn't catch me. I used the black to dash ahead. It surprised the upir meeting my charge. My shoulder barreled into him and took us both clear out of the third-story window.

  Chapter 48

  Midair and falling fast, the vampire clutched me. Amethyst energy exploded through his heart. I ducked into the shadow as we hit the ground, ashes bursting outward. The landing still hurt, but I slid with the force and mitigated the impact.

  I spun to find Magnus beside my dead rabbit. He held a submachine gun against my sword. "Cisco. You're somehow still alive."