by Antara Mann
“What we know about the victim so far,” Brendan said, “is that he was the CEO of Universal Credit Bank. Forty-seven years old, divorced. He’s been with UCB for fifteen years, and was made CEO five years ago. The troublesome part is the symbol that has been carved into his chest. It’s stirred up tensions between the Courts of Heaven and Hell. Keep in mind, Alex, that this is a very important case. A small but extremely influential part of the supernatural community is watching it closely,” he said as the doors closed. I hadn’t yet decided how to behave with Brendan, so I said nothing. Hell, I thought, if the money wasn’t so good, I wouldn’t get involved even if World War III was breaking out, in the supernatural or human world.
Brendan ran a weary hand across his head, and I couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to run my fingers through his hair.
Shit, Alex. This is proceeding exactly as I feared. Keep your cool, girl, the voice inside me said. Only yesterday Awen had told me to listen to it, and I had to admit he may have been right. The voice’s advice was quite solid. I had to maintain my distance from Brendan, and definitely shouldn’t have sex with him again. Not for all the world. Ever.
“Hey, are you all right?” Brendan asked — concerned, perhaps, by the look on my face.
Yeah, I’m just trying to look pissed off at you while resisting your sex appeal, I thought. Instead, I said curtly, “I’m still angry at you for not calling me even once during the last eight months. Let's keep this a working relationship only — no emotions.” The smirk I spotted on his face set me on fire. “What’s so funny?” I growled.
But then the elevator doors opened and Brendan made an apologetic face. “Let's leave this conversation until later, okay?” He strode toward the end of the corridor and I had no choice but to follow him. How I wanted to set his sexy ass on fire with one of my fireballs! That was an advantage of being an elemental mage. I could bend all elements to my will, of course, but I was strongest with fire and air. Maybe I would ignite the werewolf’s ass after all, but I’d do it later. Right now I had to get my emotions under control and focus on the investigation.
The corridor swarmed with uniformed policemen and one of them approached, trying to block my way, but Brendan waved him away, signaling that I was with him. The werewolf passed under the yellow tape marked “Crime scene, do not cross” which was draped across the victim’s office door, and I followed him in.
I found myself in a spacious office with huge windows and a nice view of Lower Manhattan and most of the skyscrapers. The bigwigs always got the best offices. But my enjoyment of the panoramic view was spoiled by the dead body sprawled on the floor, just a few feet from the leather chair next to the huge mahogany desk. I focused in the scene in front of me, breathing deeply and activating my photographic memory. The body was that of a man in his mid-forties. His nostrils were crusted with dried blood, his shirt was torn, and a circle was carved into the flesh of his chest. Inside the circle was a hexagram, and another symbol within that — maybe a sword? I kneeled down next to the victim, making note of the two wine glasses placed casually on the mahogany desk, and closed my eyes. Sniffing the air, I felt the definite presence of magic, dark and dangerous. This was the work of a supernatural, without a doubt, and most likely the culprit had known the victim. Judging by the two wine glasses, the victim had probably shared a drink with the killer prior to the murder. What surprises fate held in store for us — one moment a friend; in the next one a deadly enemy and your executioner. I shivered.
When I opened my eyes, I saw an unfamiliar face watching me intently from a few meters away. I stood up instantly.
“You must be Alexandra Shaw,” the man said. “Brendan mentioned you’d be joining us on the investigation. I’m Carlos Delvalle.” He stretched out his hand and I immediately felt his magic: Powerful and dominating, it felt like strong waves crashing against the shoreline. He was definitely a shifter too, and judging by his ginger hair and stubble, my bet was that he was a tiger shifter. He was a few years older than me, in his late twenties, with a slim athletic body and attractive green eyes that were warm and inviting and made me feel at home. I instantly liked him.
“Brendan spoke very highly of you,” he said, looking me in the eye.
Okay, maybe I can delay being a bitch to the werewolf.
“Very nice to meet you. How long have you two been working together?” I asked.
“Oh, it's our first case together,” Brendan interjected.
Carlos smiled at me. “I was called this morning from Sao Paulo to come help Brendan with the investigation. So what are your first impressions, Miss Shaw?” he asked politely.
Wow, I thought, the Magic Council must be really worried if they’re calling in investigators from all over the world, Brazil in particular. Brazil was famous for its well-trained investigators.
“Please, call me Alex.” I smiled back at him. “Well, it’s definitely the work of dark magic.” I looked around the office once again, letting my gaze rest on the dead body. I finished scanning the room, noticing the palm plant next to the window and the painting on the wall opposite the desk. It was a dark picture, and I shivered just looking at it. Dark energy and magic, just like the killer’s, the voice inside told me.
“I’d bet a decent sum of money that the banker knew his killer,” I said. I shifted my gaze to the two wine glasses. One of them had very little liquid left, and the other was almost full.
Brendan nodded. “The murder was obviously committed by a supernatural. Probably a warlock or even a sorcerer — but not a shifter, in any event. I would have sniffed it if the culprit was one of us. You may be right that the killer came to the victim as a friend. The security footage from last night shows that no one entered Stone’s office — at least not from the hallway — which confirms the supernatural nature of the case.”
I cast a slightly worried look at the policemen bustling around us.
“Don’t worry,” Carlos said reassuringly. “We cast a spell so they can’t hear what we are talking about.” He went to the couch across the room, where a laptop was resting. He pressed a few buttons and waited.
“We’re assuming that’s the victim's computer,” Brendan informed me.
I nodded. “Do you think this murder could be the work of a demon?”
Carlos looked at me thoughtfully. “It is possible,” he said slowly, not taking his eyes off me. “As my grandmother used to say, ‘Never greet a stranger in the night, for he may be a demon.’”
“Yeah, or a werewolf.” I glanced toward Brendan, who grumbled in irritation. “A really nice quote, though. Where is it from, Carlos?” The tiger shifter started to reply, but Brendan cut him off.
“Demon or not, Stone knew his killer, and the killer clearly used magic. That’s peculiar, because the victim is a human and has no criminal record. At first glance it seems unlikely for him to have gotten involved in the supernatural world,” Brendan mused aloud.
“And what do you make of the symbol on his chest?” I asked, indicating the bloody circle.
“Now we’re getting to the good stuff,” Brendan said sardonically. “That, Alex, is a symbol related to an ancient order of demon-hunters, and if they are involved, then I’m afraid we might see some strife between the gods and demons.”
I raised my eyebrows. That was a pretty apocalyptic scenario, and Brendan wasn’t usually a dramatic type of guy.
“Can you fill me in on the occult meaning of this symbol?” I studied the symbol more closely. I certainly hadn’t ever seen any runes similar to it.
It’s a supernatural military symbol, the voice in my head chimed in.
“Fuck,” I said aloud.
Carlos started. “I beg your pardon?”
“Um, nothing. I’m thinking out loud. Please go on, Brendan.”
“As I was saying, it’ s the symbol of a group whose purpose was slaying demons. They were disbanded in the beginning of the twentieth century, and no one has heard of them since then. It’s been assumed th
at the order died out,” Carlos said.
“The Holy Order of Shadows is the name,” Brendan said. “The Court of Hell is highly concerned that there may be a maniac or descendant of that assassins’ cult on the loose. They’re afraid someone is starting to kill their minions — or, to be more politically correct, their agents.”
“It may turn out to be true,” Carlos said quietly. I leafed through the sheets in the folder Brendan had given me, which had information on the murder from the NYPD. The Magic Council worked with the US government on supernatural cases, and the US authorities gave us carte blanche and kept us fully informed, and didn’t meddle in our affairs. Supernaturals handled the supernatural, humans took care of human affairs. That was the mantra: theirs and ours. To human eyes Brendan worked as an NYPD sergeant, but in reality he was the Magic Council’s agent. Of course, the existence of us and our world was kept top-secret from everyone other than the human government. The general populace didn’t suspect that monsters and creatures that go bump in the night were real.
I looked over the entire NYPD report, but found nothing other than what Brendan had just summed up for me. Daniel Stone didn’t have so much a parking fine in his background, but here he lay on the posh marble floor with a bizarre symbol carved into his chest. Whomever he had gotten involved with, he had bitten off more than he could chew.
“Tell me more about that group, the Holy Order of Shadows,” I said, and closed the folder.
“Well, it was founded in the Middle Ages,” Brendan said, “and its soldiers were trained mainly in Tibet and India. Then right after the First World War, after an agreement was reached between the Courts of Heaven and Hell that no one from either Court would kill members of the other, the Order was abolished. In fact, one of the conditions for the peace treaty was the suspension of that Order. This is another reason we’re worried about relations between the two Courts.” Brendan nervously rubbed his forehead, and I noticed the small drops of sweat forming on his skin. This case was clearly going to put pressure on him. Suddenly I felt more benevolent toward him.
“It’s gullible of the Court of Hell to think that someone would bother killing an ordinary person, some boring banker, just to take revenge on demons. Can we link the victim to any dark magic? Can we be certain that he knew about our supernatural world? Seems more likely to me that a twisted supernatural, maybe a sorcerer, killed him in some dark magical ritual,” I mused.
Standing behind the desk, Carlos picked up a statuette wrapped up in a plastic baggie and handed it to me.
“Judging by this relic I found among the victim’s personal items, I think he was indeed interested in the dark arts.”
The statuette had horns, resembling a demon, and an inverted pentagram was engraved around the statuette’s base. When I looked closely at the bottom of the base, there was a tiny ‘D’ scratched into the enamel, but there were no other markings.
“Stone was well-off, so he certainly had enough leisure time and money to pursue such a hobby. Maybe he was a member of some occult society glorifying demons or the dark side, huh?” I said, examining the statuette. It seemed rather ordinary. “But this doesn’t prove anything. The inverted pentagram is a popular symbol with some people these days.”
One of the police officers pulled Brendan aside, and they exchanged a few words. Then the officer gave a signal and a team of paramedics came in. Brendan moved to stand next to me while they prepared to put the corpse into a body bag and carry it out.
“Yes, you're right,” he said. “We need to learn more about Daniel Stone, about his character. A single statuette doesn’t prove anything.” Brendan walked slowly around the spacious office, his eyes gleaming in their distinctive werewolf way. Whenever he had to concentrate or was under pressure, Brendan drew on his werewolf power. This manifested most often in a change in the color of his eyes, which now shone yellow-green. “Let’s review the events from the victim’s last twenty-four hours. We know that Daniel Stone was in his office, on the phone with a client at eight forty-two p.m. From the guards’ statements and the camera footage, it’s evident that no one entered his office after six forty-five in the evening, and no one came into the bank after six, when it officially closes.”
“Who discovered the body?” I asked.
“Stone’s personal secretary, Mary Connor. She found him this morning at eight fifteen. The first police officers arrived within ten minutes. They called me at nine thirty, and I arrived within half an hour.”
I looked at my watch; it showed just past eleven. “The Council pushed you pretty quickly for this case,” I said.
Brendan grimaced. “Because of the symbol. And rumor has it that Kai, the leader of the demons, flew into a rage when he learned about the murder.”
“In my opinion, they’re making much ado about nothing. I don’t think the killer is targeting demons, or using people for some grand demonic plans or whatever.”
“Tell that to the Council,” Carlos said.
“Yeah. Kai would really appreciate it,” Brendan added and mischievous sparks flashed in his eyes. “In the meanwhile, let’s talk to the secretary.”
We got into the elevator and went down a few floors. Mary Connor’s office was right next to Stone’s, but given the police presence, they had moved her to the fifteenth floor for the meantime. At the front desk, Brendan flashed his police badge at the busy woman behind the desk. She started slightly, but quickly recovered.
“Hello, Sergeant… Sax,” she said, reading Brendan’s badge. She looked questioningly at me and Carlos.
“These are my colleagues,” he said, “Alexandra Shaw and Carlos Delvalle.”
“I’ll let Mr. Larson know you’re here.” She picked up the desk phone, but Brendan forestalled her.
“Actually, first we'd like to talk to Mr. Stone’s secretary, Mary Connor, if that’s convenient.” Brendan smiled at the secretary. She looked like she was in her early thirties — an attractive brunette with big dark eyes and a pleasantly husky voice. I’d always wondered how they chose secretaries in major international companies like UCB: only for their skill and experience, or based on looks too? Judging by this secretary’s appearance, I guessed physique played as important a role in the hiring process as brains did.
The woman got up and walked into a room behind her desk, which I presumed was her boss's office. She wore a short black skirt, which showed off her long legs, and a black jacket. She looked both stylish and sexy. I glanced at my partners, but didn’t sense any emotion in them; they didn’t even give her a second look. A few moments later she returned and invited us into the deputy CEO’s office to question Mary Connor.
The deputy CEO’s office was identical to Daniel Stone’s; the only difference was that there were a few more potted palms here, and the framed pictures were more cheerful and colorful. On the wall facing the desk was a large picture of a beautiful young girl standing in the rain, with the sun making its way through the clouds. The atmosphere here was much more relaxed than in Daniel Stone’s office. It also helped that there wasn’t a body sprawled on the marble floor. Behind the large desk was a man in his fifties, and a young woman sat in a chair next to him, clutching a notebook in her hands. She dictated something to the man, who keyed it into the laptop on the desk before him.
“Mr. Larson, Mr. Sax from the NYPD, and his colleagues, Ms. Shaw and Mr. Delvalle.” After introducing us, the secretary left the room, closing the door behind her. Brendan and Mr. Larson shook hands and after exchanging a few words, the werewolf asked to speak with Miss Conner in private. Larson agreed, and opened a door next to his office which revealed a small area resembling a conference room. While Miss Conner, Carlos, and I took our seats, Brendan pulled Mr. Larson aside, asking him not to leave; we'd need to interview Larson after we were done with Miss Conner. The deputy CEO nodded and went out, closing the door behind himself, as Brendan sat down in a chair next to Miss Conner.
“I’m sure this is a blow to you, Miss Conner,” Brendan began, apply
ing all his charm. “This must have come as a terrible shock.”
The secretary trembled slightly. “Yes, it certainly is a shock. Just yesterday Mr. Stone was giving me instructions about his schedule for the week, and now he…” Her voice faltered and she paused.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions. Did anything unusual happen yesterday, or in the past few days? Anything at all, no matter how small or trivial it may seem. Did Mr. Stone seem worried or more nervous than usual?”
Mary Connor shook her head.
“Are you sure?” Brendan persisted. Shifters seemed to have built-in lie detectors, and Brendan always knew when someone was lying or hiding something. He was taking charge of the interview, and I was okay with that.
She pondered over his question, then slowly said, “I don’t think Mr. Stone was nervous. Rather, I’d say he was excited. I can’t be positive, but I thought it might be because of his new girlfriend.”
Brendan raised his eyebrows and asked, “Can you tell us about her?”
“Sure. Her name is Christina Ricoletti. She’s a model and actress. They had been together for a couple of months. I thought maybe he was getting ready to propose. They were so cute together.” Mary looked down, and seemed to be trying not to cry.
Sitting next to me, Carlos was neatly writing down her answers, and I was studying her while she spoke. I put her age at no more than twenty-seven, although I suspected she was even younger, maybe twenty-four or so — about my age. She had a pretty, oval face and gave the impression of having a calm and balanced personality. She wore long, elegant pants and discreet makeup. In a nutshell, she was the type of woman I would feel comfortable sharing an embarrassing secret with and could trust not to gossip about it. I liked her.
“Tell us how your day with Mr. Stone went yesterday,” Brendan said.
