by C C Sommerly
The Magic Thief
Croft and Sterling Paranormal PI Agency Book 1
C.C. Sommerly
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Also By The Author
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2020 C.C. Sommerly
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by Sylvia Frost at thebookbrander.com
Edited by Diane Sittig and Anja Lewis
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
This one is for Grammie. I love you and am honored that my books are what got you reading again.
Acknowledgments
Every book is so different to write. From the initial idea to the writing of the last sentence, each one takes on a life of its own and has unique challenges. Despite that, one thing stays the same – the group of people that support you along the way. I’m infinitely grateful first to my children, who support me and understand the time I take away from them to write. And, to my Mom, who always encourages me and lets me bounce ideas off her. And, to my editors, you two are beyond amazing. I’m so lucky to have you two. And, I can’t forget the readers. Without all of you, this book would languish on a shelf somewhere. You all take the time to pick up this book. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
1
I heard his slightly muffled footsteps and smelled his body odor – my only warning before he attacked me. But, I was in the mood to fight, so I’d wait to see how this played out. I felt the tip of the sword pressing against my back and froze.
“Your money and valuables. Now!” said the man behind me.
How to handle this? Damsel in distress, who pleads for her life or dumb human accidentally wandering the Demon Realm?
“Are you daft? I’ll chop you to bits and take what I want,” he said.
I wasn’t going with either approach I considered. Instead, I swiveled to face him at the same time that I drew out my sword. Even in the dim light I could see the surprise on the demon’s face.
“You were saying?” I asked.
“Nothing, I made a mistake.”
And then he rushed me. I had him on the ground just as quickly as he attacked. They just got dumber and dumber. Even a lesser demon should have known jumping me was equivalent to a suicide mission. Anyone with any sense could tell a street fighter from a non-fighter by the way they moved. He was only living because I didn’t want to bother dealing with a dead body.
He squirmed on the ground.
I’m not letting him off so easily.
I kicked him until he stopped squirming. Now, fear and shock filled his face and he started to beg.
“Just let me go. I swear, I won’t do it again.”
“Sure you won’t.”
The few lights in the buildings around us went out, but I had no doubt that every inhabitant was watching. They wouldn’t get involved. Survival of the fittest held rein here. And, if I let one demon get one over on me, the rest would think I was an easy target.
With a final, swift kick of my boot, the wannabe mugger whimpered. I gagged at the smell of shit. I hated it when they did that – it was such an appetite killer. And breaking in a good pair of boots was a pain. It had taken months to get these babies just right and now they were covered in eau de feces.
He rolled into a protective ball and was so pathetic that I stopped my assault.
“I’d kill you, but it will leave a mess and I’m in a hurry.”
I rolled my eyes and straightened my shoulders. I walked away from the trembling crap-covered demon laying on the ground. I shouldn’t have taken out my frustration on the demon for my failed mission. When he jumped me, my temper was on a razor’s edge. After hours walking these streets and coming up empty I was done with this place.
Striding into the muggy and brimstone-scented night, the ever-present wind tousled my short, silver hair. I impatiently swiped it out of my eyes. Anemic light from the flickering gas lanterns struggled to reach through the darkness. I walked carefully on the slick, cobblestone streets – keeping an eye out for any more attackers. The staccato rhythm my boots made against the stone was the only sound in an oddly quiet night.
Each time I was here in the Demon Realm, it was different. This realm overlapped with Hell and the Earthly Realm. Unlike the other two locations, it was constantly changing and evolving. There was no place like it and it followed its own set of rules. Here streets expanded and shortened, hills grew and valleys emerged, random buildings appeared, and other buildings disappeared at the whim of the realm. This place was a living thing and it was hungry and mean. No one was spared by its craving for chaos and change.
I hurried to the rendezvous point, anxious to return home. This night was a total bust and I was down one pair of sweet boots. I was only here in the Demon Realm a.k.a., the “In Between” because I had no other leads. By the time our client contacted our Agency to take this case, the trail hadn’t just gone cold, it was positively arctic. The tip Edgar gave for my current case was useless. Nothing was ever given for free these days.
This was supposed to be what I called an easy “find and recovery case” for my client’s missing grimoire. Instead, it was dragging out, much to my surprise and to the client’s frustration. If the client went to another private investigator’s agency, my closure rate would take a hit along with my pocketbook. We couldn’t take that hit at the Agency. Money had been tight the past couple of years and I didn’t see that changing any time soon.
I looked for the telltale shimmer of the portal near the depths of the alley. Xavier said it would be at the intersection of Give a Damn and Get Lost – the demon’s attempt at humor, or perhaps just a random naming of the streets. You could never tell with demons.
I squinted in hope that I was just overlooking the portal, but nope, no portal appeared. Damn Xavier. I should have known not to trust him. I’d greet him with a swift kick to the balls next time I saw him. Vamps, like him, couldn’t be trusted. I only used him tonight because no other portal masters were available.
Xavier swore that this time he’d be reliable and wouldn’t dare leave me stranded in the Demon Realm. And while, it wasn’t exactly illegal to be here, it was highly discouraged by the enforcers. They policed Earth and lacked authority in this realm. Only the foolish or incredibly stupid tarried here for long.
As I went to leave the alley, something flickered in my peripheral vision. It was the portal flaring to life. About freaking time, I thought.
The portal was a round circle that was outlined by an outer ring of flickering runes. They usually appeared on the ground, but if you got a pissy or unexperienced Portal Master, then you could get stuck with a portal appearing in a ceiling, or any number of difficult p
laces to access.
The Portal Masters keyed portals to the user and it disappears after they step through it. I hopped through the portal and was instantly spit back onto my favorite rundown street of Barrels and Babes and the alleyway of the Dirty Fix.
I blinked rapidly to clear my vision. Portals were bright and being in one was like looking too long at the sun. You needed a minute to get your bearings after being exposed to such extreme light.
The Dirty Fix, was a dive bar and our go-to spot for portal placement. As a private investigator, or PI, we preferred discretion. Most people were too drunk to notice me and the other investigators popping in and out of the alley. And, most people avoided the dangerous alley that backed up to the bar. Countless bloody bar fights had carried over into the alley and murders had been committed here. And, the dumpsters and debris provided easy camouflage for the portal.
As I walked, I didn’t even bother to avoid the puddles of piss and puke as I made my way out of the alley. At this point, what more damage would some added alley vomit do to my boots?
I was famished after hours in the Demon Realm. I’d fix this night with a Big Ass Mega Burger, also known affectionately by rabid burger fans as “BAM burgers”. BAM burgers were the best and no better could be found in the entire city of Germanna. Although, I suspected they added a little something to their recipe.
No one made food the old-fashioned way anymore and I’m not sure that was a good thing. They always added something “special” and by special, that usually meant some supernatural additive like fairy dust or witch’s mojo. As soon as I checked in with Sterling, at the Agency, I could get myself a BAM burger. I had definitely earned a BAM night.
As I neared the alley entrance, I saw someone clinging to the shadows. Whoever it was would normally go unnoticed by most people, but I wasn’t most people. I slowed down as I recognized Rat. He looked ready to make a run for it. This was just what I needed, that little sneak was gonna get a shakedown.
I used Rat as an involuntary informant. He and the other “Scrappers” could get details about the more sordid parts of the city. They tended to fade into the background and had access to places I didn’t. People didn’t notice them much unless they wanted to buy from them. Information was everything for an investigator and I liked to keep aware of the seedier happenings because they may have a tie to a current or future case.
Scrapers scavenged things, like the casing of silver bullets, to repurpose or sell. They made a living off whatever they could salvage through pickpocketing, grave robbing and stealing from the newly dead.
They tended to be the first at crime scenes because they wanted to take any valuables that the victim had. It made my job and the enforcers’ job that much harder because the crime scene was already defiled and often the more notable possessions that could identify a victim were missing.
Before he could escape, I pushed Rat against the alley wall. His grimy shirt smelled even worse than the alley or my boots. I breathed through my mouth for self-preservation. He shook in my grip, threatening to slip from my grasp, but I pushed him harder against the wall and he whimpered.
“I didn’t do nothing,” he said.
“Guilty conscious Rat? And what would I accuse you of doing?”
“Pl – please Miss Marty, I did nothing. Honest.”
“The day you are honest is the day I sprout wings, so why don’t you make this easy on yourself and spill. What did you do, Rat?”
He just shook and stayed quiet. Normally, I could get him to spill his guts. After one beating from me several years ago, he tended to be pretty malleable. I didn’t like to use violence against people like Rat, but it was the language that he and other street folk spoke.
Why was he clamming up now? He knew something, but whether it was about my case was still up in the air.
“I’m waiting.”
I tapped my boot to emphasize my point before continuing, “You know I’m not the most patient. Shall I start removing body parts? With the night I’m having, I could use some fun.”
The smell of piss assaulted my senses and I stepped back, but I was sure he got some on my boots. It just added to their ruination. Sterling will hear about this and I was insisting on hazard pay for this case.
“I’m sorry. Don’t hurt me. I only agreed to do it cause they promised me riches. But, I saw the gold and sparkles they offered. So much treasure for me, for my own if I just did this one thing. I just wanted my own. It was so pretty.”
Rat made even less sense than normal. I could care less about treasure or bribes. But now, I felt obligated to get to the bottom of this. You never knew what information could be useful in the future and this was potentially useful.
“What don’t you want to tell me, Rat? I’ll find out, so it’s better you tell me of your own will. Don’t make me torture it out of you. We both know how that goes.”
“Don’t hurt me,” whimpered Rat.
“What have I always told you?”
“That you will always find me and that even if I hide, you will come for me. And you’ll make me pay.”
“Good, I’m glad you paid attention.” I slammed him against the wall a few times. “Did that jog your memory? Have you taken anything or know of any scrapers that have?”
“We find stuff. No one else wants these treasures and we clean up the mess people like you make.”
“Tell me.”
“You aren’t the first to ask. There was a mage that came around to speak with some of us.”
“There are thousands of mages. This tells me nothing.” I shook him hard and didn’t stop until he was crying. His tears mixed with trails of snot meandering down his dirty face.
“He wasn’t like most mages. He was damaged.”
“How?”
“He had two different colored eyes. One was silver and the other was violet. And, a scar on his mouth that gave him a frowny face.”
Rat’s words sent ice down my spine. My eyes were like my father’s eyes and were incredibly rare. I wore colored contacts to hide mine. There was maybe a handful of people in the world with eyes like mine and they were all mages. I was a non-magical being as far as everyone at the Agency knew. I planned on keeping them in ignorance.
“And, what else? Glowing mismatched eyes and a scar. Details or I’ll slit your throat.”
He shook and trembled even more. I’m not sure how his teeth weren’t all chipped with how badly he was shaking and his teeth were chattering at this point.
“He wore a cloak, like mages do. He had marks or tattoos on his wrists. Both of them. I didn’t get a good look. I just saw the dark marks under his sleeves. When he caught me looking, he covered them up real quick like. He asked us to keep an eye out for any jewelry. I hadn’t any jewelry. But it doesn’t mean the others didn’t find anything or give him anything.”
I let Rat go and he scurried off into the night like hellhounds were after him. The night wasn’t a complete loss.
Several of the things he told me were noteworthy. One, mages usually weren’t marked or tattooed unless they were rune mages. But most proudly displayed their runes. They were a sign of their power. Each rune was incredibly painful because it was so much more than a tattoo. They were part of a complex ritual to store magical spells. A rune that failed to take could result in death.
The disfigurement didn’t sound like anything I’d heard before. Mages were flawless in their appearance because they could use their near-endless source of magic to repair anything – even near mortal wounds.
I made my way to the Agency, which more closely resembled a house. Croft and Sterling Agency, or the CSA, as we affectionately called it. It was located in one of the less reputable streets thanks to a severe real estate shortage in the city.
The Agency appeared deceptively small from the outside, as it was glamored to appear. The glamor was a strong one too, but not fail-safe. Some of the stronger supernaturals could see through it, but it did the job for the majority of people. And that was
to protect us.
In my line of work, we made a lot of enemies: the cheating spouses who were caught, the criminals that were sent to jail and generally malcontent former clients. Apparently, that not everyone who had a cheating spouse was happy that we ruined their domestic bliss with the bitter truth. And, the people we busted for crimes tending to hold a grudge.
The office was on the main floor of our two-story building, which came complete with a basement. The other employees of the Agency and I lived on the second story, but Zander stayed separate from us in the basement, which was better for all of us. The Agency had enough space that we had our own rooms, but not so spacious that we didn’t frequently bump into each other.
I let myself in. At this late hour, I hoped no one was about, but I wasn’t that lucky. I was stopped by Callie, our receptionist.
“Sterling wants to see you.”
She was blowing bubbles with her gum and had her feet propped up on the desk. Classy and professional as always, was our girl, Callie.
“Thanks. I’ll report to him.”
I went down the hall to Sterling’s office. Even at this hour he was at work, which at least partially explained his perpetual grumpiness. Then again, maybe nothing explained that away. Personally, I think he needed some romance in his life or at least some womanly attention to work off some stress.
Sterling’s office door was cracked open. I pushed open the door and stepped inside. Sterling looked me over and when his gaze fell to my ruined boots, I grimaced. I didn’t need to say anything about them. He knew I’d file a report for compensation over the damage.