Ash’s mouth dropped open. “FUCK YOU SAM!”
‘Immediate assistance needed outside the venue.’ The radio buzzed on Ash’s shoulder.
“Bennet responding,” he calmly answered into the receiver. “Location?”
‘Located through the emergency exit, east of the building. Police are en route.’
“Police? Shit.” He clicked off the receiver. “I don’t think I can keep doing this Sam,” Ash said quietly. “Look, I need to work, I’ll call you later… maybe.”
“Hey, wait!” Sam reached out, but Ash had already made his way towards the exit. “Ash? Fuck.” He turned to Alice, eyes wide. “What do I do?”
“Sam…”
“I really like him, baby girl, but I am who I am.”
“Let’s just go home, we can grab some food and watch that new cooking show you keep talking about?”
“No, fuck that. I’m not letting Ash ruin my night.” Sam shrugged off her hand. “I need to have a drink and dance, I’ll see you back at home.”
“Wait, Sam!” Her phone vibrated in her back pocket. “Shit!” The caller ID flashed, one that demanded her response. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Chapter 6
“Now let’s start again, who found the body?” Brady asked with a tired growl. His pen was poised, ready with his notepad as the man who found the corpse shakily told his story for the third time.
The area directly beside the Pavilion had been cordoned off, police tape and cones keeping every curious pedestrian away. Which had been difficult considering the sheer amount of crowd that left the venue to try and get a sneak peak of the wrapped man. And it was a man, for that they were certain. Alice didn’t need Jones to confirm it considering the semi-transparent fabric that wrapped him from head to toe was tight, so tight you could see his crown jewels very clearly.
He was also a shifter, but what animal she had no idea. His face was stretched, a snout protruding from the centre that looked half formed with his lower jaw clearly broken. Claws had pierced through the fabric, unravelling the weave enough she noticed the nails pushing away from the skin in a way that made her clench her own fist.
“Have you ever seen anything like this before?” she asked Peyton when he stood beside her, his usual scowl in place.
“A few pets have been found like this over the past few weeks. This was expected.”
Her chi ached beside him, longing for the bond that he kept strangled, cut off.
The more they tried to break it, the stronger it became.
“Expected? You expected this?” she gestured to the body that was expertly wrapped, arms and legs bound together. He had been placed carefully onto a chair, body rigid. It reminded her of a mumification, but instead of bandages it was white woven fabric as fine as silk, and each limb was individually wrapped.
She wanted to take a closer look, but wasn’t able until Jones had finished with his team.
“Well, not exactly this. The fabric is new, before they were wrapped in cord.”
A tut behind them. “Someone clearly has a weird kink,” Lucy chuckled.
“Excuse me, you can’t be behind the…” Peyton began, his voice cutting off when he faced Lucifer.
Alice felt their bond ignite, his wild magic electric.
“Hey, hey,” she snapped at Peyton. “This is Lucifer. He’s with… me,” she awkwardly finished.
Peyton turned to Alice, his eyes like ice. He was furious, the bond vibrating through her in waves of heat.
“I have word of your brother, so I will take my leave,” Lucy said, his eyes mockingly rolling over Peyton in challenge. “Listen out for the hounds.”
They blinked and Lucy was gone.
“What is he?” Peyton asked, his anger simmering before he cut off their connection once more. “Did he just say hounds?”
Alice immediately touched her thigh, her fingertips searching for the scar through the fabric of her jeans. “How easy is it to create a portal to the Far Side?”
Peyton paused, taking his time to answer. When he spoke her tongue tingled, bound with magic. She couldn’t share the knowledge even if she wanted to.
“Only royalty can make portals, and even then it’s difficult. High Lords are able to open the doorways already in the veil, but only for a short time. Why?”
“I… found an entrance, a Fae portal deep in the forest. But it was broken.”
“An entrance? How did you know…?”
“I felt it.”
“That’s impossible,” he whispered. “Only Fae can…” Peyton slammed his mouth shut, his eyebrows raised. “We really need to sort out this bond.”
“What do you guys think?” Brady asked when he approached. Bags were heavy beneath his tired eyes and baby sick was dried to his collar, but neither Alice nor Peyton mentioned anything. He was happy being a father, well, they assumed he was happy considering he rarely smiled. But he always updated them on pictures of his baby, Alison whether they wanted to see or not.
Peyton frowned. “You’ve seen something like this before?”
“We think he’s been skinned beneath the fabric,” Jones answered instead as he removed the hood from his overalls, allowing it to sag on his shoulders. “The Pathologist will need to confirm once they unwrap him, but there’s no flesh on his hands from what I can see.”
“You comparing them to the pets?”
“I’ve already scheduled a call with the Pathologist assigned as well as the veterinary clinic that made the call. We just have to hope they’re not already cremated.”
“What’s your initial thought?” Peyton asked. “Other than Brady’s statement we have no leads.”
Alice noticed the glint of glass in the corner. “What about the CCTV?”
“Broken.”
“How convenient,” she muttered.
Jones played with his zipper. “He has defensive marks on his hands, but I can’t confirm whether he was alive or dead when he was skinned.”
“What a comforting thought,” Alice cringed. “You ready for us to take a look?”
“We’re going to be a while, but if you don’t step on any of the markers you should be okay.” With a nod he moved back to his team.
Up close, the body looked fake, as if someone had wrapped a mannequin in organza then splashed it with fake blood.
“He smells like magic,” Peyton said, deadpan.
Alice raised an eyebrow. “You can smell magic?” Peyton was still shy about his Breed, barely acknowledging it since his recovery. It was no longer a secret that he was Fae, except his royalty status which he made blatantly clear would not be discussed. He even kept his hair long enough to hide his distinctive ears. At least he seemed to be embracing his natural hair colour, the pale silver suiting his complexion. “What does it smell like?” she asked, trying to coax him into telling her more.
He watched her with quiet eyes. “Fresh rain after a lightning storm.”
“Wow, very specific,” she smirked. She could only smell death, the distinctive aroma growing the longer she was there. She would have preferred the fresh rain.
The body was sat awkwardly on a wooden chair, the table on its side to his right with smashed glass glittering on the floor.
Carefully kneeling, making sure she didn’t move any of the markers left by the forensic team, she checked closer to the head. The fabric was tight, covering every available inch of the face. Other than the shape, which they knew was a shifter, she couldn’t see anything.
“There’s nothing for us here, we need him unwrapped.”
“Hmmm, I’ll update Brady. We can’t do anything without the pathology report. Let’s hope they find something interesting.” Peyton moved away, stepping over the tape that kept the crowd away. A uniformed officer blocked the crowd, his lip lifting in a snarl.
“Fucking faerie,” the officer murmured beneath his breath, his attention on Peyton’s back.
Alice found herself beside him without even a thought. She wasn’t sure if Peyton had ove
rheard, but it didn’t matter. “Officer...”
His eyes flashed with alarm when he realised she was beside him. “Officer Leary, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? It’s Agent Skye. But I must say, I’m surprised it wasn’t bitchy witch?” She had heard that a few times when she had first started working for Spook Squad. “Or maybe just Freak? What makes Detective Peyton suddenly get the special treatment and not me?” She made sure her voice was dramatically loud.
“Ah...” His eyes grew to saucers.
“Do we have a problem, Officer Leary?”
“What’s going on here?” Brady asked with a scowl, Peyton on his heel.
“No, no, no...” Leary stuttered. “Nothing, sir.”
“I was just making sure there isn’t anything that could distract him from his job. Because surely, if Officer Leary had a problem with another member of the team it would be reason for termination, wouldn’t it, Detective Brady?”
Brady’s eyes narrowed, turning his full dark stare to the Officer. “It would be reason for transfer, at least.” Brady had caught one clerk back at Scotland Yard calling Peyton a name to her colleagues. She was immediately removed from her post.
“No problem here, Detective.”
“Then you should probably get back to work,” Peyton said with a distinctive monotone. Officer Leary stepped away with a dramatic nod before Peyton turned his attention to Alice, his expression hard.
Fuck sake, she thought. Peyton was the only person who would be pissed off at her defending him.
Brady broke the tension. “Peyton mentioned you felt a magical presence? Can you specify further?”
Alice bit the inside of her cheek. Peyton was the one who had smelt one, not her. She personally couldn’t feel magic residue, not unless it was exceedingly strong. “Not really. I would suggest hiring a necromancer, they may be able to enlighten us on what the fuck happened.”
“Do you have any suggestions?”
Alice shook her head. “A necromancer is a black witch, one who specialises in the darker arts of magic. The practice has been outlawed unless under supervision of The Magicka.”
Black magic witches were the most powerful of all the classes, using death and blood to create spells and potions. Every spell required a sacrifice in various levels of severity, whether it was a plant, blood, chi or death. The larger the sacrifice, the larger the return.
The class was outlawed, with only a certain amount of witches allowed to train under the watchful eyes of The Magicka. Those who practiced without their permission were hunted and executed.
“How do we find someone then?”
“We need to ask The Magicka,” Peyton muttered. “Or better yet, Frederick Gallagher.”
“The councilman?” Brady asked. “Alice, can you set up the meeting?”
She sighed, pinching her nose. She didn’t want to, but at that moment she couldn’t think of an alternative. “Yeah, sure.” Which meant she would have to organise a meeting with one of the men she would happily see dead.
“Good, organise it ASAP. We know this will be breaking news in the morning, which means we’re going to have everyone on our arses to get it closed quickly.”
“Without the pathology report, we have nothing,” Alice answered.
Brady scanned the crowd. “Let’s allow Jones to finish up and re-group. I’ll wait for the Coroner and organise a fast track.”
Chapter 7
It was surprisingly easy to set up a meeting with Councilman Gallagher, if the three hours on hold with The Magicka’s internal switchboard before being transferred to six different people didn’t count. His secretary had said he was busy until the end of the year, until Alice explained the situation… forcefully.
Her name was known, and apparently her threatening to turn up at his office to make a scene was a decent threat. Frederick was running for city mayor, as if being the corrupt head of The Magicka wasn’t enough for him.
“You seem nervous,” Brady murmured as they waited in the large foyer. “I don’t like it when you’re nervous.”
Alice waited until some students passed, their eyes curious as they clutched a stack of books to their chest. “I’m not nervous,” she said quietly. Just uncomfortable, she added mentally.
They were at the University of London Magic, the place where aspiring witches and mages came to study and develop their skills. It was where you were assigned your tier, a tier Alice never received as she didn’t study there or at any of their partnered campuses across the globe.
Genetically she was a witch, but on paper she was nothing.
The university was part of the older area of the city, the walls thick stone that created a cold draft whatever the season. The foyer was tall, the floors above busy as students lined up on the many balconies above, waiting for their classes. A stained glass dome was situated at the top, creating bursts of multi-coloured light across the drab, grey interior.
Students ranged from eighteen to twenty-one on average, their uniform emblem a black pentagram with silver accents.
In the distance Alice could hear construction work, signs explaining they were opening up part of the section for younger students, eleven to seventeen in the following spring.
“Why are we here again?” Brady asked as he crossed his thick arms, checking his watch impatiently. “Why do we need this guy’s permission?”
“Because I know nothing of dark magic, and Frederick is the only person who can help us.” She knew that for a fact. She had checked.
“Frederick?” Brady smirked, eyebrow raised. “You on first name basis?”
Alice just shook her head. “It’s complicated,” she whispered as more students walked past.
Brady sat quietly for a moment, a slight frown pinching his eyebrows. “Tell me about black magic.” He made it an order. “Or is it dark magic?”
Alice played with the lint on her trousers. “They’re the same, it’s just different degrees of severity. The first thing you’re taught as a child is that black magic requires a greater cost than most witches could handle. Many witches don’t even have the chi capacity to hold the spell. Dark magic is the same as black, but easier to balance, and the sacrifice isn’t as severe.” It was illegal for a reason.
“What about you?” Brady asked. “Can you do black magic?”
“I don’t do black magic.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Alice turned, Brady’s dark eyes watching her without a hint of judgment. Since Peyton came out as Fae he had been asking more questions about Breed, but that question wasn’t something she wanted to answer. She had done dark magic, not black, and she still remembered the thick, oily feeling of it suffocating her aura. The idea that black magic was stronger…
“Would you ever do it?” Brady asked when she remained silent.
She didn’t want to answer that question either, especially as she wasn’t sure.
Heels slapped loudly against the hard wood, drawing their attention to the secretarial looking woman with a face like stone.
“Agent Skye and Detective Brady?” she asked with a clipped tone. “Could you please follow me?”
Without a backwards glance to make sure they were following she guided them past the cafeteria, down two corridors before she opened up the door labelled ‘Chancellor’s office.’
Frederick sat behind a large mahogany desk, a backdrop of candles floating in the air, orange flames flickering. A book lay before him, the pages turning on their own every few seconds.
He remained seated, lips curled in a tight smirk as he gestured for them to take a seat.
“Councillor Gallagher,” Brady greeted with his hand held out.
“Detective,” Frederick replied, his gaze dropping to the outstretched hand until Brady dropped it. “I’m very busy, you have five minutes.”
“I’m sure five minutes will be sufficient enough,” Brady growled, his voice deepening as his anger spiked. “I wasn’t aware you were Chancellor.”
; “Oh, I’m not,” Frederick smiled. “I just wanted a suitable space to hold this meeting.” His attention changed to Alice, his head barely moving due to his high-neck, stiff collar. “This university is a beacon of superiority to our Breed, therefore it is appropriate for me to speak with... Spook Squad.” He said the name with obvious distaste. “A police unit that specialises in Breed investigations, yet counts an ungraded witch amongst them.”
Alice bit the inside of her cheek. She was working, she couldn’t retaliate.
Brady shifted in his seat. “We are in need of assistance with an ongoing homicide investigation. Agent Skye enlightened me that you would be able to supply us with a witch trained in black magic.”
Frederick shot out of his chair, a loud laugh erupting from his throat. The candles behind him flickered, one extinguishing with a hiss.
“And why should I give you permission for this? Black magic is the biggest immorality amongst witches, and therefore those who practice it are sentenced to immediate death.” He dramatically swiped a finger across his throat, a smirk playing along his thin lips. “As are those witches who rebel against The Magicka.”
“You’re the only person who can point us to an approved witch,” Alice said with an acidic tone, “One who could help us catch a murderer.”
Frederick grunted, moving to sit at the edge of the desk, his long, velvet green cloak close enough to brush Alice.
Alice straightened, not allowing him to use his height as an intimidation.
“Why would I care about that?” he asked, bending over her.
“If you’re unable to do it, we will speak to a councilman that can.” Brady’s chair scraped as he stood, eyes hard. “It seems your capabilities have been exaggerated.”
“I am the only person who can give you permission,” Frederick snapped.
“Then give it,” Brady bit. “If you had accepted a call we wouldn’t have had to come here to ask permission in person, but instead we have wasted hours that could have been put to better use.” He paused for a breath, jaw clenched. “We appreciate you’re busy, but we need a black witch to assist us in a homicide.”
Knight's War: A Witch Detective Urban Fantasy (Alice Skye series Book 5) Page 5