“Did you find a weapon?” I asked.
“No, but it looks like a stiletto was shoved into his brain from behind. Either magikal, or magik-enhanced.” He rolled the body slightly so I could see the wound.
“Fire lance,” I said.
“That’s what it looks like to me,” he answered. “Doesn’t look like this had anything to do with the rumble between the bikers and the vamps.” Novak held up a plastic bag with a dozen small vials, each full of a yellowish liquid. “Although this might have tossed some gas on the fire.”
“Astropene?” I asked, and wasn’t happy when he nodded. “So, if someone killed him because of the drug, why does he still have it?”
Novak shook his head. “Two reasons come to mind—either the murderer missed a bag, which means our friend here was carrying a helluva lot of the stuff, or they had a dim view of drug dealers and killed him because he was dealing it.”
“Makes sense,” I said. Novak’s logic was sound. “Maybe they planned to rip him off and got interrupted. But it does clear up one thing. I was thinking meth and alcohol might have fueled the brawl, but I think you’ve nailed it. This is a lot better explanation for the carnage inside.” Astropene came across the Rift, and it only took a drop or two to make a human think he or she was a god. Usually, the godlike properties astropene users exhibited weren’t the sweet, kind ones.
“What would happen if a vamp bit someone on astropene?” I asked.
Novak’s eyes widened, and then he shook his head and laughed. “I have no idea, but I doubt the effects would be favorable.”
I went back to the deck and checked the arms of the headless body, then found Kelley.
“Check the people you arrested, and those who went to the hospital. We found a dead devil out front, and he was carrying enough astropene to inspire a small army. Your headless horseman has a recent needle mark on his arm.”
Kelley swore. “That would explain it.”
“Yeah, it would. I’m going to call in someone from Arcane Vice and turn this over to them. As far as the dead drug dealer, I’m willing to chalk that one up to a public-spirited citizen. I think what went on here is pretty straightforward, unless you need me for something else. It’s supposed to be my day off.”
“Naw, astropene is a good enough explanation for me. And hell, if your drug boys can track down the dealer’s killer, I’m more than happy to let them do it.”
Chapter 18
I really didn’t want to go into work that Monday morning. Novak had performed acceptably at the scene of the biker-vampire brawl the day before, but he still bugged me. So, I smoked a joint before hopping on my bike and heading down to the station. I figured if I was a little mellower than normal, I might get along better with my new partner.
Of course, no sooner had I walked through the door than the desk sergeant said, “James! The deputy commissioner wants to see you.”
Sticking my head into Whittaker’s office, I said, “You wanted to see me?”
Novak was already there. I needed to talk to him about that. I wasn’t late, but him coming to work early made me look bad.
“Yeah, come on in.”
I approached his desk, and he turned his computer screen so I could see it. The images were not nice. I counted at least four different demons, a couple of vampires, and six humans. All were dead. Some were torn apart. Three of the humans were women.
I raised my eyes to Whittaker’s frowning face.
“When?” I asked.
“Sometime yesterday, maybe as late as after dark. An old mansion in the Mount Washington-Pimlico area.” He sighed and sat back in his chair. “We got an anonymous call a couple of hours ago. Forensics, Homicide, and Vice are all out there or on their way.”
Whittaker bit his lip as he studied me. “Dani, I have a very bad feeling about this. I think we may be looking at a gang massacre. And if we are, we’re likely to see retaliation.” He leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk. “If I give you a temporary promotion to lieutenant so you can take lead on it, can I count on you to behave yourself? Bite your tongue and not say stupid things to the press? Don’t piss off the brass when they come around asking stupid questions? Don’t go barging into peoples’ houses sticking your Raider in their mouths without a warrant? Play nice with the other cops? Act professional instead of like some kick-ass vigilante with a chip on your shoulder?”
“Temporary lieutenant? You mean I get paid as a lieutenant?”
He pursed his mouth and wrinkled his nose. “Yes, and if you solve it without doing any of those things I mentioned, or otherwise getting your ass busted back to patrolman, the promotion will become permanent.”
I caught myself biting my own lip and stopped it. “I’ll try.”
“Try damned hard.” He held out a gold badge. I pulled the silver one out of my belt, and we made the exchange.
“Get out of here,” Whittaker said. “Novak can fill you in on what little else we know. When you come back, tell me I’m wrong about this shit.”
Once we were in the car and on our way, I asked, “So, what makes Whittaker think it’s a gang thing rather than a domestic dispute or something else?”
“A couple of things,” Novak said. “The first responders found a lot of drugs. Personally, I find that surprising. If it was another gang, you would think they’d take the dope. The second thing is that everyone was shot in the back of the head.”
“Oh,” was all I said. That about cinched it. The killers wanted to send a message to someone. The drugs explained why Vice had been called in.
“That’s the second time in two days that the killer didn’t take the dope,” Novak said. “Do you believe in coincidences?”
“Sure. I believe in Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny, too.”
He chuckled. “Whittaker must think a lot of you.”
“I get results.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Novak studying me.
I took to the air so we could avoid the morning traffic downtown, and it didn’t take us long to get to the crime scene. The uniformed cop guarding the street knew me and waved us through the police barricade. I parked as close as I could, and we trooped up the slight hill of the front lawn to the house.
In general, the whole neighborhood could have used some sprucing up. The murder house had seen better days, but a new coat of paint and a little care of the landscaping would make the place look respectable. With two stories plus a gabled attic, and probably a full basement, the place was built for a large, wealthy family in the early 1900s.
I had just reached the porch when Lieutenant Sam Berger walked out of the front door. He stopped abruptly when he saw me. He was a big man, shorter than I was, broad, and heavily muscled, but he was getting a little paunchy. The hat he always wore to hide his receding hairline was firmly in place. Berger was a mage with a talent for working with water and had been my partner five years before. We hadn’t parted on the best of terms.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “I didn’t call for assistance.”
“My case,” I said. “Anything I should know before you leave?”
He puffed out his chest and straightened to try and make himself look taller. I still topped him by a couple of inches.
“This is a major crime,” he said. “Regulations say a lieutenant leads the investigation.”
I flashed my new gold shield and said, “Talk to Whittaker. I’m just following orders. He said he wanted someone competent on this one.”
For a few moments, I thought Berger’s head would explode. His face certainly turned an interesting shade of red. I pretended not to notice, busying myself with putting on shoe covers and gloves. When I finished, I said, “Mychal, this is Lieutenant Sam Berger. Dan, my new partner, Detective Sergeant Mychal Novak. Now, are you going to show us around before you leave, or just get out of the way so we can go see for ourselves?”
Berger wasn’t gracious. He stepped aside so we could go inside, but he didn’t follow us. I glanced back
over my shoulder and saw him going down the steps, fumbling for his phone. Out of pure spite, I tossed a spell at the phone, killing it.
“You two have some history?” Novak quietly asked.
“We used to be partners. He has problems with women.”
“Is he the one you broke his arm?”
I chuckled. “You heard about that, huh?”
“After half a dozen people told me I should check up on my new partner’s history, I figured it might be a good idea.”
I grinned and winked at him. “There’s hope for you yet. Yeah, I broke his arm.” I left it at that. Berger was lucky to be alive.
The first body was in the foyer, a human missing one arm and a face. A bullet in the back of the head does a lot of damage when it comes out the other side, especially a bullet capable of killing a demon. Cops weren’t the only ones with high-powered firearms.
An arm, its hand holding a pistol, lay across the room.
“Have forensics check that gun and see if it’s been fired,” I said. Novak nodded, scribbling on his little notepad.
The living room held a nightmare scene. Two demons had been shredded, and they also showed evidence of being shot in the back of the head from close range. I walked over to an oni who was lying on his back. I had fought an oni once, and he had been damned hard to kill. They were ferocious demons with extreme strength and tougher than a tree. He showed signs of having been tortured before he was killed. That meant someone or something had to immobilize him. Since I didn’t see any kind of physical restraints, that meant magik.
His buddy was an ogre, almost as large and tough but a lot uglier. Again, not an easy being to kill.
The human in the kitchen would only be identified by DNA. Fingerprints, facial pictures, and dental records were useless, since he or she didn’t have any fingers, teeth, or face. I didn’t spend any time studying the body or the room. The human in the next room had tried to run, and most of the damage he took was to his back. Of course, being disemboweled through the back was pretty gruesome. The gunshot to the back of his head was obviously superfluous and done post-mortem.
We found the vampires in an upstairs room. Both had been extensively tortured. Whoever had come into the house had strong magik and had taken their time. Vampires weren’t as difficult to kill as demons, but they were tough. The torture had me baffled. A message, or a need for information?
The women were in a room down the hall. A woman in her apparent thirties had been gutted, and her heart was missing. A lot of demons considered human hearts tasty snacks. Two young girls—probably in their late teens—were the only bodies that were intact. Their necks were broken, and neither had been shot.
“What do you make of that?” Novak asked.
“Business,” I said. “Taking care of witnesses. Check their ages. My bet is these girls were being trafficked. We might find them in the Missing Persons database. The woman looks familiar, but I can’t place her.”
The last human and another demon were in another bedroom on the second floor. The demon was another oni, and it looked like he and the young boy had been in bed together. I doubted it was consensual on the boy’s part. That’s where they died, but no telling if the boy was killed by the oni, or something else.
“We’re missing a demon,” I said, counting the bodies we had encountered.
“In the basement, ma’am,” the uniform who had followed us through the house said.
“Lead on, Sergeant.”
The unfinished basement had a damp, musty smell. A few molding boxes sat against the wall when we reached the bottom of the rickety staircase. Not a part of the house that was used very often.
My sense of smell led me to the room on our left even before the uniformed cop pointed to it. I stopped in the doorway and looked around. What we had seen upstairs didn’t prepare me for the occupant of that room.
“What the hell?” Novak breathed.
“Yeah.” I might have made a mistake when I met Ashvial by thinking he was a major demon instead of a demon lord, but the dead demon we found was at least a major demon. He had also been tortured, but by magik. It was scary to contemplate what kind of being was strong enough magikally to confine, torture, and kill a major demon.
The light-blue skin was common for a frost demon, and the body’s limbs were twisted in weird ways, bones broken. His skin was scorched in places, blistered and black. And the expression on his face told me that he died in terror and pain.
I realized that Whittaker had plenty of time to study the pictures he’d shown me, while I had briefly glanced at them. No wonder he was concerned.
“Gods,” Novak said. He approached the body, looking it over. “How did he die?”
“Take a look at the ears.” An orangish sludge had run out of the demon’s ears and congealed. “I think that’s his brain. My bet is that whatever killed him cooked his brain inside his skull.”
“What has that kind of power?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” My thoughts flashed to Ashvial. A demon lord or maybe one of the Fae or a mage lord. I certainly didn’t have the power to control and kill a major demon, not even with my enhancements. Using magitek devices, I could manage it, but I wasn’t carrying things like that around with me. Maybe I should rethink that.
Chapter 19
The tall, husky uniformed sergeant had followed us into the basement. When we finished examining the body and the room, he asked, “Would you like to inventory the drugs? I’ve kept everyone out of that room, but forensics wants in.”
“Yes,” I responded. “Novak? Sounds right up your alley.”
He gave me a sardonic grin and a half salute. “Yes, ma’am, Lieutenant, ma’am.”
The uniform frowned and shot me a look, evidently either unhappy with Novak’s attitude or afraid that I would blow up.
I didn’t say anything, not sure how I should handle the situation. They trooped back upstairs, leaving me alone with the dead demon and my thoughts.
Whittaker had nailed it. Gangland hit. Rifter drugs and human trafficking. A sudden thought occurred to me, and I quickly climbed the stairs and went looking for the uniformed sergeant.
I found him with Novak in a room that had originally probably been a study or some sort of sitting room. An open cabinet sat against one wall, and I could see vials of liquid and packages of powder on the shelves.
“Sarge,” I called out, “did you find any money?”
He shook his head and pointed to a safe in the corner. The door was a mangled mess, and it was empty inside.
I whirled around and went looking for the leader of the forensics team. He was in the main room where we had found the two demons.
“Kevin,” I said, getting his attention, “I need a magik detector to go through this place, top to bottom, and find any spells.” Some mages could detect magik or the tell-tale residuals of magikal spells. The Arcane Division had several people with that talent working for us.
Kevin Goodman, head of the Arcane forensics lab, and I had known each other for a long time. He was a tall, lanky, gray-haired man with a hooked nose and a mind like a computer. His magikal talent was seeing things that weren’t there.
“Sure. Mind telling me what you’re looking for?”
“Money. We’ve got a major demon dead in the basement, a small fortune in drugs, and a safe that’s been forced. If you were a major demon, would you put your money in that lousy little safe, or would you ward its hiding place with magik?”
Kevin nodded. “Good point. I’ll get someone on it immediately.”
“Have him search the yard as well.”
I went outside to get some fresh air, and a woman with a medical examiner badge approached me. She wasn’t someone I knew.
“Lieutenant James? I’m Kelly Quinn.” She glanced toward the door into the house. “I’m not sure how much the autopsies are going to tell you that you can’t figure out from a cursory examination.”
“Yeah, cause of death is pretty appar
ent for the most part. Prioritize the demon in the basement and the two young girls. With the girls, I’m interested in evidence of restraints, drugs, prior abuse. With the demon, I’d like to know your thoughts on how he was tortured.” A thought struck me. “You are with Arcane, right?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve autopsied demons before.”
“The demon in the basement,” I said. “I’m pretty sure he was a major demon.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I once did a post-mortem on two of them at the same time. They killed each other.”
“Yeah, I’m wondering what could have killed this one.”
I wandered around the outside of the house, checking out the lawn and some overgrown rose bushes. The place was bordered by a brick wall in the back.
After about half an hour, the uniformed sergeant approached me and handed me a large to-go cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” I said, giving him a smile.
“New partner?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Gave him a piece of my mind. It don’t matter what he thinks of you, he has no right to question your authority in front of others.” He took a sip of his own coffee. “Congratulations. About time you got that gold shield.”
“Have we worked together before?” I was a little embarrassed that I didn’t remember him.
“Nope. Just know you by reputation. Watching you today, the rep’s good. You know what you’re doing. Mind sharing your thoughts?”
I checked his name tag. “Well, Sergeant O’Reilly, it looks like a gang hit. Drugs, those girls, and the torture. Not to mention the overkill with the bullets in the back of the head.”
He nodded, took another sip of his coffee, and said, “Sorta what I figured.”
“I sure hope I don’t meet whoever did it in a dark alley some night.”
He crossed himself. “I’ll drink to that.” We bumped our coffee cups together.
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