I carefully shuffled my way down a steep path that lined the outer edge of the coastline, my not-for-hiking wing tipped boots providing me absolutely no traction as I nearly slipped and went sliding against the neglected dirt road now mixed with mossy dark stone. I ended my trek at the only place I could imagine a long hike ever ending...the bar. Too bad it wasn’t still operational.
Despite its enormous size, the stone skeleton was one of the few structures that still remained mostly intact. Inside, lichen dotted the damp stone walls like parasitic blue and green cobwebs. Straight toward the back was a warped wooden plank suspended between two whiskey barrels that served as the bar top. Scattered around it was a colorful mosaic of broken liquor bottles glistening every so slightly from the moonlight coming in through the absent roof. The floor was a graveyard for the splintered chairs and crushed wooden tables.
My eyes darted to the corner of the room. A black, shadowy figure flashed across the moonlight that invaded from above.
The clever, sneaky shadow came for me every time I was here. It wasn’t the voice calling for me. In fact, it never spoke. But the shadow glided across the village like a night owl, always appearing when you’d least expect it, and making it its mission to hunt and strike me down every time. Perhaps it was trying to prevent me from finding that voice, or maybe it was my subconscious reminding me how pathetic I really was. Whatever the reason, it pissed me off. I had been murdered by this thing probably a hundred times and I was beyond livid by now. How difficult could it be to win against a homicidal imaginary shadow in your own dream, anyway? Well, it turns out pretty difficult. The police academy doesn’t train you for combat against ominous transparent shadows. I’ve been at this for almost two years.
I scanned the narrow rectangular structure around me. The fog was slowly lifting, but the figure was still difficult to see in the darkness of night, easily blending and disappearing against the backdrop of nothingness. I slammed my foot down on a wooden chair leg, snapping it in half and pointing the splintered edge in front of me. With the other hand, I picked up a large shard of broken glass from a crushed liquor bottle on the floor. I angled it to reflect the light from the moon trickling in, drawing the shadow out from hiding.
A flicker of light revealed a human shape behind me. I spun around, stabbing the air as the force of my swing carried me forward. I stumbled into the bar plank, propelling directly into a stack of crumbling wooden crates nearby with a loud crash. The shadow chopped me from behind, snapping my neck like a rubber band. My vision went dark for a split second as I waved my hands around in defense. Pain rippled through the back of my skull, but I shook it off and pushed forward.
My gaze dropped, catching a glimpse in a dented metal beer mug sitting on top of a pile of debris. I twisted left and swung a punch across the transparent void that was its head. Before I could land the hit, I tripped over my own two feet. My balance wavered, the shadow’s pointed fingertips struck me like a dull blade right above my right shoulder. Its impact produced such force that I flattened to the floor like a drunk on a Saturday night.
I struggled to push myself up, the glass beneath my hands and feet stained crimson from the tiny shards piercing my skin. I staggered to my feet, grabbing another splintered wooden chair leg from the floor as I rose. In a single blink, everything turned black in front of me.
I wound up for a swing, holding the wooden stick like a baseball bat. With the whoosh of a gentle wind, the shadow dissolved into thin air. I switched directions and thrust the weapon backward past my left hip, driving it right into its stomach. The shadow froze, then disappeared again. The weapon clattered as I dropped it and it rattled on the floor.
Everyone, everything has a weakness. Eventually, I figured out to land a hit on me, it couldn’t stay transparent. I needed to be quick and precise to hit the shadow without letting it strike me first. That’s why it always attacked from behind. My reflexes weren’t much better than a tortoise trying to dodge a hungry fox.
I bent down to grab a metal rod lying in front of me. Just as my hand tightened around its rough edges, an immense power propelled me through the empty front window. I smacked to the ground with a heavy thud, skidding across my side as dirt ripped against my skin like coarse sandpaper. I shot my gaze upwards just in time to see chunks of wood and stone shooting at my head like speeding bullets. I gripped the edge of the cloak, throwing up my arms to shield my body. Debris collided against the soft fabric, soaring down from above to catch my head. Sharp pieces of wood sliced my skin like an army of tiny serrated knives. I knew this wasn’t real, but the pain certainly felt like it was.
I was outside now, in the middle of a wide dirt street. The remaining white wisps of fog lit only by the moonlight couldn’t completely conceal the dark shadow out here. I pushed to my feet to see the shadow in front of me. It waved its hand like charcoal smoke swirling from a dying fire, a hint of violet laced within the shadow beckoning me to step forward.
I readied myself for a good old-fashioned foot chase through a creepy abandoned village, hunting down a shadow that defied every law of nature known to man. I inhaled a deep breath and bolted toward it, and it took off soaring like a vulture through the empty streets. Game on.
I raced after it. My rapid footsteps kicked up moist dirt littering the allies and pathways as I ran. My arms were pumping with determination, my lungs trying to keep up with the intense exertion. My eyes darted from side to side, trying to track its unnatural movements. With only one way to go, it finally banked a left at the end of the street, and I continued pursuit downhill. It cut through a stone wall lining the veranda of what used to be a store like it wasn’t even there, reappearing on the other side. I followed, bracing my hand on top of the surface and catapulting myself over it as I sprinted away from the village and across a rope bridge soaring above a cove rampaging with turbulent waters below. Eventually, a vast field opened up into rows of dead vines and wire trellises, the remains of what used to be a vineyard.
The blade of a metal shovel came cartwheeling toward me out of nowhere, slamming perfectly across my jaw like a bitch slap to the face. The dark silhouette stood in the middle of the field, staring at me. If it had a face, I’m sure it would be laughing right now. I bent down and plucked a sharp, slender rib bone from a large animal carcass that lay entwined in a wire trellis. I willed myself not to collapse under the pain and exhaustion. My legs were on fire, muscles burning like hot coals under my skin. The intense throbbing in my neck and shoulder was making it difficult to move efficiently. Lacerations appeared from head to toe, red droplets oozing life from my body and soaking into my dress shirt like a cheap paper towel.
“What do you want from me, dammit?!” I screamed at it, knowing full well an answer wasn’t following.
I wiped the blood from my mouth with the backside of my hand, spitting the rest to the ground. Sweat poured down my face and I decided to lose the superhero cape. I huffed short, quick breaths unable to take in the air. Intense heat seared through my lungs as if someone dumped boiling hot water down my throat. I really was a pathetic excuse for a police officer. I was weak even in my own dreams.
When I finally gained my composure, I held up the bone and pointed it directly at its chest. Roaring in perseverance, I charged like an angry bull down the soft soil as the shadow stood there waiting.
“How dare you invade my sleep! Don’t you know I work like eighty hours a week!? Leave me the hell alone!”
I expected this to be the end for me. I held up my arms, the pointed bone hammering down toward its head. For a moment, time stood still. I was absorbed into its vacant shell. A hazy darkness consumed me, my vision blurred as the icy cold of the shadow’s disembodied aura outside met the warmth of my blood within. The split second it took me to pass through felt like an eternity. It then spit me out the other side and I dropped to my knees beside it. Did I do it? Did I finally win?
No, that would have been too easy. The shadow stood there confused, like it wasn’t sure what just happened.
It turned its head to face me. With a sweep of my leg, I took out its feet.
“Take that, you son of a bitch!” I forced myself up slowly off the dead grass. Pushing aside the fact my body was shutting down, adrenaline took over. Before it could get up, I climbed on top of the shadow and held the bone with both hands, pressing it hard against its throat. I was taking a gamble that even though it appeared as a shadow, that its human form meant it had to breathe. If it couldn’t breathe, it couldn’t transform.
It lay there struggling against the pressure of my forceful grip, its hands pushing against mine to free itself.
“Not this time. This is over!”
I kept increasing the pressure ever so slightly, my mouth curling with sadistic pleasure. I let out a maniacal laugh when my overconfidence got the best of me and the bone snapped in half. In that instant, swirls of black smoke surrounded its hand, thrusting with an overpowering force directly into my heart.
I shot up in my bed. Sweat was dripping from my forehead just like in the dream. I touched my chest where its hand felt like it had thrust completely through my body. There was no injury, but I could still feel the cold chill against my warm skin, blood gurgling out of my mouth as I died. Breathing fast, my heart pounding, I let my head drop back down to the sweaty pillow.
For a good five minutes, I stared at the ceiling fan spinning in a mesmerizing circular motion above me as I tried to regain my thoughts. I’ve been having this dream for almost two years now, ever since I had that traumatic incident that ruined my career as a police officer before it even started. I assumed it was some sort of PTSD, a constant reminder of how badly I screwed up.
I held out my arm and snatched my phone from the nightstand. My eyes bulged out of my head when the realization hit me. I flung off the covers and shot out of bed. Today was the MagiCon event. And I was late.
Chapter 4
I slammed the door behind me and raced down the steps two at a time, flying out the front door of my apartment building. Shit. Of all the days to be late, it had to be today. I was screwed.
No time for the train. It was probably too crowded anyway. I threw myself in front of a taxi, waving my hands at him to stop. Thankfully, he did. I circled around and yanked the door shut with such strength the window rattled.
“MagiCon,” I splurted out, like somehow only speaking the single word would get me there faster.
“You got it, boss.” The taxi driver pulled away and drove toward the venue. It was only about a fifteen minute drive, but with such a large event taking place in the city, there would no doubt be heavier than usual traffic. We were only about a block away when things came to a complete standstill.
“Sorry, I think there’s some kind of security checkpoint ahead.” The driver stretched his neck trying to see around the line of cars in front of him.
“I am the security,” I cleverly stated, then threw him a couple twenties and jumped out of the car. I sprinted the last block, right past the vehicle checkpoint and to the front entrance where attendees were being inspected before entering the building. What were the odds no one noticed I was missing?
Zero.
“You’re late, Officer Cotter.” Captain Fletcher was patrolling the outside grounds, keeping the crowds in line. I guess slipping in unnoticed wasn’t happening.
“I know, Captain, the traffic—”
“Get to your station. Now.” His voice was like a shockwave radiating through my tense muscles. His bold blue eyes went cold and appraising. I just nodded and hurried on my way.
I was stationed in the back of the venue near the executive offices. Before I even reached my station, I could hear a man vigorously hacking up a lung just ahead. His attentive brown eyes darted to lock on me like a hawk waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey.
“Figures I’d get stuck with you. Stay out of my way, runt.” Lieutenant Daley floated aimlessly around the back office lobby, stopping in front of a large decorative mirror.
“Just go back to throwing compliments at yourself in the mirror and leave me alone. Putting up with your shit is not on my to do list today.” I could sense his eyes boring into the back of my head as I scurried past him. I left the small lobby area and rounded the corner into an empty hallway lined with offices and conference rooms. It wasn’t a coincidence I was patrolling this area. Other than the event staff or occasional speaker walking by, it was dead. It’s pretty hard to screw things up if there’s nothing to actually screw with.
I took a moment to swipe a loose curl off my face. I adjusted my black police vest that sat on top of my navy blue short sleeve dress shirt. Every inch of the vest was lined with some kind of pouch, clip, or strap, most of which were empty because I didn’t have time to load them up this morning. My hand reached into a pocket and pulled out a smooth, round glass orb the size of a cherry and the color of a radioactive blueberry. I used my thumb to roll the spell bomb across my palm, the powder inside swirling like a magical sandstorm across the night desert.
The vibrant blue color signified a sleep spell. When activated against someone, it became instant nap time. I pulled out the others to check my inventory. Bright yellow was an energy spell, similar to a Taser. The neon green was a sticky spell with the ability to glue someone, or something, to the floor, stopping them from attacking or running away. There were others too, like smoke spells for concealment, water spells to put out small fires, and light spells for brightening dark places or blinding people.
Each magic spell bomb reacted differently to different people. Some people slept for hours, others maybe twenty minutes. Most types of magic didn’t seem to impact me much. The spells weren’t as effective as they were on others. I would know, since my colleagues once glued me to a wall for target practice.
Unfortunately, the same went for me using magic. It never worked reliably for me. One more thing for me to add to my growing list of life accomplishments.
I tucked the glass marbles back into my vest and began pacing down the hallway, my gun tapping against my hip as I cleared each office. I reached for the radio on my chest to check in but the strap was empty. I’m sure I’d get a stern scolding about that later, but there was nothing I could do about it now.
Most events weren’t like this, but MagiCon was taken very seriously. It was an event where magic enthusiasts, mostly from organizations looking to acquire magic items to accelerate their business, learned about exciting new advancements in the industry. The presence of new and more advanced magic made things unpredictable. There was no telling what people might try to do or what would happen if a spell demonstration went wrong.
I opened up the last door at the end of the hallway and discreetly scanned around me to see if anyone was watching. The coast was clear.
The smell of roast beef sandwiches and dry erase markers emanated through the conference room. My hands glided across the top of a leather office chair, gently rocking it as I passed. So soft. So smooth. So...relaxing. Gold rivets adorned the rolled arms and the luxuriously thick padded seat was begging for me to test it out. I hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, and I was exhausted. I plopped down for a moment and threw my head back against the cushiony leather headrest. I was immediately transported to heaven, floating on a cloud.
My thoughts wandered back to the dream. I’ve been having it ever since that incident with my training partner about two years ago. We were chasing after a thief. My partner was injured, thanks to a losing battle between a bat and his knee. He was dragging himself behind me, trying to catch up. The thief took off running down five city blocks and ended up in a public garden.
When I finally caught up, I stood there and aimed my gun at him, shaking like the pathetic coward I was. He knew I wouldn’t pull the trigger, so he took the opportunity to snatch an unlucky woman that happened to be walking nearby. One hand yanked down on a fistful of her wavy blonde hair, the other with a knife pressed hard against her throat, drops of blood slowly trickling down her neck. She was frightened stiff and afraid
to disobey her assailant, pleading with the man for her life.
I put the gun back into my holster, holding up my arms as I tried to reason with him to let the woman go. When he didn’t, I threw a magic energy bomb, which instead of giving him a jolt, exploded in a blast of magical energy that hit everything but my target. In the end, he killed the woman, the thief got away, and my partner, who had finally caught up to me, was thrown off his feet and smashed head first against a granite sculpture thanks to the unexpected blast. Me? I was totally fine. Just some minor cuts and a major bruise to my ego.
After that, I was known to everyone at the station as the incompetent coward who can’t use magic. The incident was all over the news, and although most people around the city didn’t recognize me out of uniform, that didn’t stop them from mocking me around others.
I let out a disapproving sigh and reluctantly forced myself to leave the comfort of the soft leather chair. With my luck, someone would find me slacking off.
The door clicked shut behind me as I left the room. With no idea where I was, I played a game of eeny-meeny-miny-moe and swung a left down the next hallway. I had only glanced at the assigned areas and I wasn’t completely sure where I was supposed to be patrolling. I was too busy getting everyone else’s work done to actually spend any time on my own.
I continued to wander around, clearing offices and conference rooms as I zigzagged down the halls. By now I accepted the fact that I was lost in the maze of hallways. It was like trying to find your way through a house of mirrors—everything looked the same, repeating itself over and over again. Did that many people really work here at the conference center? I threw my hands up in defeat. Just as I was about to turn around and backtrack, a distant crash rang out from far down the hall.
I instinctively drew my gun from its holster and aimed it directly ahead, cautiously edging my way toward the noise. I stopped at a corner office twice the size of all the others when the floor shook as something—someone—hit the ground.
How to Hunt a Menacing Magical Shadow Page 3
