My head was spinning. I don’t like to start my day with a lecture on interdimensional travel. Resignedly, I said, “Go on.”
Cyon’s eyes flickered with eagerness as he continued to rock my caffeine-starved brain. The demon loved to lecture. “I believe we need to return to the warehouse where the Crimson Circle first performed their ritual. It’s the nexus point between the two worlds.”
My mind flashed back to that fateful day when we confronted Kovan Crull and the followers of the original iteration of the Crimson Circle in an abandoned warehouse near the docks. The horror of their mass suicide remained vivid in my thoughts and to this day haunted my nightmares.
“Sounds risky,” I said. “Don’t we run a chance of widening the breach?”
“That will not happen. Not if we do it right.”
Was the demon telling the truth or saying what I wanted to hear? I knew how cold-blooded Cyon could be in the pursuit of his vengeance.
The demon shifted his gaze to the three copies of the Daemonioum. “These books hold many secrets. They will show me how to tap into the breach’s power and use it to our advantage.”
I thought of Demon Slayer, the magical sword I’d retrieved from the devil’s bank during my Swiss adventure, could stop Morgal in our reality, but confronting the archdemon on his home turf would require a different weapon powered by a stronger form of magic.
The confidence in Cyon’s voice left no room for doubt. Facing Morgal wasn’t some distant possibility but a foregone conclusion in the demon’s mind. I fought back the impulse to lunge at Skulick’s desk and toss the grimoires out of the window before they could trigger some new unforeseen apocalypse. But I had to trust Cyon and hope he wouldn’t destroy the world in the name of his vengeance.
My cell chirped before I could change my mind. It was Detective Benson. Cyon had hitched a ride in the homicide detective during the most recent Crimson Circle case and nearly gotten the man killed. I was amazed that Benson was already back at work, but I figured he needed to stay busy after what had happened. He’d seen a lot of weird shit since the breach two years earlier, but working paranormal crime scenes wasn’t the same as sharing your mind with a demon. Not even close. I knew from personal experience.
“What’s up, Benson? How are you feeling?” I asked as I answered the call.
“Like I went twelve rounds with the Prince of Darkness himself.”
Benson wasn’t joking. He had literally faced the archdemon in hand-to-hand combat. If it hadn’t been for Cyon’s regenerative abilities…
“How can I help you, Detective?”
“I need you to come down to the precinct. I think your girlfriend is in trouble.”
My chest tightened. I remembered Archer’s missed call.
If something had happened to the woman I loved, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I said, already moving for the door.
Hell could wait. Archer needed me.
4
When I’m pissed, especially at myself, it shows in my driving. Tearing through the city in my jet-black muscle car, I cursed like a sailor, honked at the slightest irritation, and pulled a few maneuvers I’m not too proud of. Maybe I pissed off a few fellow drivers, but I didn’t care.
Archer had contacted me last night, needing my help on a new case, but I’d been too busy catching up on my beauty sleep to pick up the damn phone.
I made it to the precinct in record time. You might wonder how I could set foot in police headquarters after what had happened about a month earlier, when the authorities had charged me with the murder of Joe Hendrix, a local special effects wizard. The cops had obtained security footage of me gunning down Hendrix in cold blood with my signature blessed pistol.
Talk about damning evidence.
To anyone watching the incriminating tape, it looked like I’d lost my shit and went all Terminator on poor Hendrix. The real killer had been a magical double who’d sprung from a cursed mirror, not exactly the type of story which goes over well in court.
Luckily the ballistics evidence wasn’t a real problem. A nifty side effect of the power of my blessed pistol is that the mystical energy released vaporizes the otherwise normal ammo when it’s fired, leaving no bullets to trace.
The security tape was the bigger issue here.
Stepping out of the Crimson Circle’s demonic church three weeks earlier, still reeling from my bitter-sweet victory over Morgal, I was determined to clear my name. My life was complicated enough without being a fugitive from the law.
Fortunately, I had a plan.
The first step was to return to Hendrix’s effects shop. Once there, Cyon and I entered the creepy place where I had first fought a killer doll and my evil mirror duplicate. During the investigation of Hendrix’s murder, the boys in blue had ignored the magical mirror that had brought my evil double to life.
Time to correct that mistake.
I nodded at Cyon. “Let’s do this.”
Cyon, now in control of Skulick’s rejuvenated body, unsheathed Demon Slayer. Witnessing Cyon wielding the magical sword, which I regarded as one of my weapons, felt strange. Hell, seeing my partner moving like his old self without the help of a wheelchair was blowing my mind. Keeping up with all these changes was becoming challenging. One surprise seemed to follow another. But despite the strangeness of the situation, the iron determination in Cyon’s eyes matched my own. We would do this. Together.
I inhaled deeply and faced the cursed mirror for a second time.
My eyes bored into my reflection, and a devilish grin curled the lips of the man in the mirror. Lightning fast, my mirror image burst from its glass prison, my presence having awoken the evil locked inside the old heirloom once again.
The diabolical doppelganger lunged at me from the mirror’s surface, hands locking around my throat. We both went flying in a tangle of flailing limbs. I broke the creature’s hold on my neck and pushed the double back with all my might.
My evil mirror image recoiled while I sprang back to my feet in one fluid motion. As I whirled toward the duplicate, Cyon peeled out of the shadows, sword up and ready to put my double in a world of hurt.
My doppelgänger sensed the danger, but it was too late to alter his fate. The creature pivoted toward Cyon just as the demon brought the sword down—not on the duplicate, but on the mirror itself. Magical steel shattered the glass on impact. I wished I could have unloaded Hellseeker into the mirror for good measure, but at the time the cops had confiscated my blessed pistol.
The breaking glass echoed through Hendrix’s effects studio. It was music to my ears.
The living reflection never stood a chance. A pitiful wail cut through the warehouse as the creature exploded into a protoplasmic cloud.
By shattering the mirror, we had shattered the illusion of its terrible magic. Later that day, Benson sent me a copy of the security footage of Hendrix’s murder. The duplicate had vanished from the incriminating video, banished from reality. It had disappeared as if some Hollywood digital artist had painstakingly removed my evil double frame by frame.
Without the tape, all I had to worry about was the guard I’d knocked out during my escape from the precinct. A five thousand dollar check and an apologetic phone call had convinced the officer to not press any charges. Monster hunting doesn’t pay jack, so it’s nice to have a healthy stock portfolio.
And that’s how I became a free man again.
I had not been back to the precinct since then, which explained why my stomach was in a knot at the moment. Today would be the first time I set foot in the place since my arrest nearly month earlier.
I easily found parking, thank God, a lucky break considering my volatile mood. I briskly strode into the bustling precinct, ignoring the stares, and quickly located Benson. The detective looked a lot better three weeks after the beating.
“Nice to see you looking like yourself again,” I said.
“Getting there,” he said withou
t humor. There was a gravity about the man, a newfound sense of purpose. Not that he’d ever been a joker. But over the last two years, he’d slowly come to accept that the paranormal was real. He’d seen too much to pretend otherwise. But being possessed by a demon and facing a Duke of Hell in battle—well, nothing quite prepares anyone for such an experience. And it makes it challenging, if not impossible, to go back to one’s old life. Benson was a changed man, and I worried about his mental state.
“What’s going on?” I asked him, unable to hide the fear in my voice. “You said Archer might be in trouble. What happened?”
“Follow me. There’s someone you need to talk to.”
I fell into step with the detective as he led me into the precinct’s basement and through a maze of passageways. We were headed for the interrogation area, where I’d spent way too many hours a few weeks back. Thankfully we avoided bumping into Detective Orlando. I bet my number one fan wouldn’t approve of me being here. Luckily, there wasn’t much he could do about it.
We came to a stop in front of a one-way mirror looking into an interrogation room. During my last visit, I’d been the one on the other side of the mirror. Now, a woman sat behind the steel table, her face buried in her hands almost as if she’d nodded off from boredom. All I could make out was a tangle of black hair.
I eased closer to the observation window and tried to get a better look at her. Without warning, she stirred, and her head jerked upward. Her intense eyes met my own as if she possessed superhuman senses that allowed her to spot any observer foolish enough to watch her through the glass.
Which was impossible, wasn’t it?
“She does that a lot. Knows if someone is watching her. Or maybe she’s just paranoid.”
“Who am I looking at?” I asked. “And what does this have to do with Archer?”
“Parker Wang, age 31, disappeared two weeks ago, last seen boarding the nine train.”
I nodded, the pieces falling into place. I figured Parker was one of the twelve missing people Archer had mentioned in her voicemail.
“When we picked her up, it appeared she hadn’t bathed in weeks, and strange marks covered her body. But the real reason I called you in is that she attacked a transit officer with a whip.”
I jerked my head around to look at the detective. “A whip?”
Benson held up Archer’s mystical weapon, the Witch Whip which Skulick had gifted her a few months back. “I think this belongs to a mutual friend of ours.”
I swallowed hard. How would this woman get her hands on Archer’s weapon? Unless…
I didn’t finish the thought. Refused to.
“At two a.m. last night, a group of frightened college kids ran into Parker Wang on the number 9 train. When they brought her to the attention of a transit cop, she freaked out, went crazy with the whip. The officer had to forcefully subdue her.”
“What else did these kids tell you?”
“Nothing that makes any sense to me, but maybe you’ll think differently about it.”
“I’m all ears, Detective.”
“They say Archer stepped into the subway car around one-thirty. The kids were on their way back home from a night of drinking and dancing, so they were out of it. They quickly sobered up when the train pulled into a station none of them had ever seen before. And that’s when they saw Parker Wang. Or I should say they heard her. She was screaming her lungs out and running for her life.”
“Something was chasing her?”
“That seems to be the consensus. But no one saw anything in the dark.”
I made an impatient gesture with my hand, encouraging Benson to get on with it. “How does Archer come into this story?”
“I’m getting there. The ‘smoking babe on the train’—that’s a direct quote from a witness—pulled out a gun and rushed to Parker Wang’s aid on the dark platform. The college kids say something attacked Archer. Details are murky as no one saw the assailant in question. Parker Wang boarded the train seconds before the door closed and pulled out of the mystery station. Archer stayed behind.”
Benson’s expression darkened, and he shook his head. “That’s the last anyone saw of her.”
I balled my fists, nails painfully cutting the palms of my hands. The thought of Archer alone, underground, with some creature stalking her…I had to find her. Now.
“What station was this?” I demanded
“That’s the other freaky part. They said the subway stop didn’t have a name. None of them had ever seen the stop before, and they ride the 9 train every day on their way to school. They said it was between Barnum and Chesterfield. Only one problem…”
“There is no stop between those two stations,” I finished, my voice hollow.
The number 9 train made a stop somewhere that shouldn’t exist. It seemed likely that all the missing people had fallen victim to the phantom subway stop. And now Archer was stuck there too.
“Do you have any idea what happened?” Benson asked, real concern in his eyes.
“I don’t know. But I’ll find out.”
I turned my attention to Parker Wang. She had buried her face in her hands again, seemingly intent on shutting out the world around her.
“I guess it’s time I had a little chat with Miss Wang.”
“Be my guest. I hope you have more luck than I did.”
I held out my hand. “Can I have the whip please?”
Benson nodded and handed me the mystical weapon. Whip in hand, I entered the interrogation room. A sour scent hung in the air, and I almost gagged. Sweat, dirt, and a faint hint of the rotten-egg stench of sulfur. Twenty years ago, the demon Morgal not only murdered my parents but also left a deep scar on my chest. It lit up in pain whenever I confronted demonic evil. As I took a seat in front of Parker, I felt the first stirrings of physical discomfort. A dark supernatural force churned within this woman, and my scar was picking up on it.
Parker Wang didn’t acknowledge my presence. She’d seemed way more interested in me when I was hiding behind a one-way mirror.
“Hi there, how are you feeling, Parker?”
No response. The woman stared at a point over my shoulder, not making eye contact.
I cut straight to the chase. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but we need your help. I believe you met a friend of mine recently. I think she’s in danger.”
I held up the Witch Whip, and her eyes flickered to it, life creeping into her blank stare.
“You recognize this whip, don’t you? It belongs to my friend.”
I put as much emotion into my voice as I could muster and continued. “Her name is Jane Archer. She’s important to me.”
Parker Wang’s lips quivered, almost as if she was too terrified to speak. I noted the brown-black bruises that lined her arms and neck. They look like burn marks. What had happened to this woman? Where had she been for the last twelve days before she popped up on the number nine train again?
“Do you know where my friend is?” I asked.
Parker Wang nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks. At last, a human reaction. Somehow I’d broken through to her. But her response didn’t bode well for Archer. My stomach churned with dread, but I pressed on. I had to get answers even if I might not like them.
“The Soulless have her now.” Parker lowered her head as if that explained everything.
“Who are the Soulless? Do you have any idea where Archer is now?”
She nodded mutely.
I swallowed hard and leaned closer. Only inches separated us, and the smell of her unwashed body enveloped me. Once again, I noted the sulfurous scent that clung to her skin.
“Where is she?” I asked, my voice a glassy whisper.
The silence stretched.
“Damn it, where is Archer? I have to help her,” I said, losing my patience at last.
“No one can help your friend now.”
My eyes narrowed, pulse quickening. “Why do you say that?”
“She’s in the Bone City.”
<
br /> Tears ran down her ashen features. “They fed on my soul, and they will feed on hers.”
I chewed my lips and fought back the impulse to slam my fist into the steel table. This woman knew where Archer was, yet she refused to give me any straight answers. This cryptic bullshit was testing my patience.
The anger edged into my voice, and I struggled to keep it in check. “I know you’ve been through a lot, Parker. More than most people can imagine. I’m sick to my stomach knowing you had to suffer like that. But I think my friend is in trouble because she helped you escape from this terrible place. Now it’s your turn to help her.”
I reached out for Parker’s hand, but she reared back. Her eyes shone with feral energy. And that’s when they turned solid black. It required all my self-control not to bolt for the door.
Suddenly, the strange scent made sense, and I understood why my demonic scar pulsed with growing pain. A supernatural force had infected Parker with its foul essence. I was about to press my magical ring, the Seal of Solomon, against her forehead, but her gaze cleared and turned back to normal.
Darkness raged within her, but it was at bay for the moment. I had to reach the person inside of her without disturbing whatever evil had briefly taken her over. Attacking her would be the quickest way to destroy the progress we’d made and end this conversation right here and now.
“If you have any idea how I can find my friend, you have to tell me,” I pleaded with her. “Where is Archer?”
In a voice drained of all emotion, the woman said, “She’s in Hell.”
More tears coursed down Parker’s cheeks. They turned black as they hit the table. Her hands shook, her lips distorting into a pained grimace.
I jumped to my feet, sensing something bad was about to happen. Before I could touch her, her whole body burst into flame, and a wave of searing heat drove me back. Parker Wang jerked up and contorted as hungry flames licked her flesh, her lips frozen in a silent scream.
Shadow Detective Supernatural Dark Urban Fantasy Series: Books 7-9 (Shadow Detective Boxset Book 3) Page 27