Shadow Detective Supernatural Action Thriller Series: Books 1-3 (Shadow Detective Boxset)

by William Massa

  “What happened?” he said.

  “Watch out!” Celeste screamed.

  The warning came a second too late as a pair of massive hands wrapped themselves around my throat. I faced my attacker, trying feebly to loosen the vise-like hold. The demon had switched bodies again. He now wore the thickly muscled form of a construction worker. I gasped for air as stars danced before my eyes.

  “Her soul belongs to us, Raven!” the demon inside the construction worker hissed. Us? Could this be the demon Celeste’s soul was promised to?

  Doubt it.

  A full-fledged demon would only materialize on the day his victim’s soul was due. Showing up earlier would be beneath such a creature. Still, that wouldn’t stop him from sending lesser demons, known as hellhounds, after his prey in the hours leading up to that fateful moment. These messengers couldn’t collect the prize directly, but their presence would heighten the despair of the target.

  “Stay out of this or pay the ultimate—”

  The words died on the hellhound’s lips as my protective ring came up into his face. My attacker exhaled sharply and the grip around my neck loosened. A moment later, Celeste and I were storming toward my Equus Bass 770.

  Once my new client was safely inside the car I got behind the wheel, massaging my bruised throat. The second I slammed the door shut the construction worker reappeared, pissed as all hell. The massive man hurled his bulk against the windshield and the wards lit up like the Las Vegas Strip. Blue energy crackled as the car’s protective magic tossed our new friend aside. The man went flying and disappeared into the mist.

  I hadn’t even turned the key in the ignition when he was replaced by an armed police officer. The cop’s eyes flashed red as he leveled his pistol at my windshield. The wards worked great against paranormal attacks, but didn’t fare quite as well against bullets. The demon must’ve evacuated the previous host before he even hit the ground.

  Clever beast.

  A bullet blew my right-hand wing mirror away in a hail of sparking metal and glass. I took this as my cue to fire up the engine and get the hell out of there.

  I heard more cracks of gunfire, but luckily the projectiles kept hitting metal instead of flesh. Fog devoured the possessed officer as he receded in my rear-view mirror.

  Yes! We made it! Score one for the agents of light.

  My elation proved short-lived. As we hurtled down the foggy block, I cut a sharp right and…

  …found myself back in front of the coffee house.

  The cop stood before us, loading a fresh magazine into his pistol.

  Shit, this wasn’t going to be pretty.

  “What’s going on? Oh my God, it’s like we never left!”

  I shut out Celeste’s panicky voice and turned inward. Losing my cool at this critical juncture wouldn’t help anyone.

  Despite their considerable powers, there were rules demons had to play by while on our earthly plane. Distorting or reshaping reality was possible, but it would require an enormous amount of energy. Celeste’s soul was precious, but I found it hard to believe hellhounds could push reality to such a degree. I had managed to cover an entire city block before we were looped back here. To pull off such a feat would require an unimaginable amount of power.

  A realization hit me; the demon hadn’t distorted physical reality, only our perception of it. This was a demonic mind trick, nothing more. Which meant we were still on the road.

  The sudden insight shattered the demonic illusion. All this time we’d been in motion, my Equus Bass 770 roaring along at full speed. As reality snapped back to normal, I saw that the Equus Bass had veered into the path of an oncoming bus. I recognized the terror in the bus driver’s eyes—it mirrored my own.

  Celeste let out a shrill scream as I twisted the steering wheel and cut back into my lane. The bus barreled past and almost clipped us as the tortured wail of screeching tires filled the air. A cold sweat ran down my face. Had I failed to snap out of the illusion, Celeste and I would now be wrapped in a cocoon of twisted metal and shattered glass. Not exactly a comforting visual.

  I turned toward Celeste, who stared at me with shocked eyes. “What just happened?”

  The demon almost won, I thought, but I kept my mouth shut. As the road flashed by, another realization sunk in. The mark of the demon on my chest hadn’t lit up during the attack. Talk about disturbing developments. I relied on my scar to detect approaching threats; it had saved my ass on numerous occasions and prevented the creatures of the night from catching me off guard. So why had it failed me today?

  “I’m sorry,” Celeste said, breaking my chain of thought.

  Her voice quaked as she continued, “Meeting me put you in terrible danger. I should never have gotten you involved.”

  “Listen, Celeste, this is what I do. I fight the dark side. I eat demons for breakfast.”

  I grinned, but she didn’t seem convinced by my bravado. Her eyes were dull with defeat. If she succumbed to despair, the demon would win.

  “How can one hope to beat the devil himself?” she muttered.

  Excellent question. Skulick and I had been trying to answer it for the last few years, ever since the door between our realms was cracked open. We weren’t any closer to figuring it out. All I knew was that I had to stand up to a bully, no matter how powerful he might be.

  “I need to buy us some time,” I said. “Learn more about the demon. The more we know about the enemy we’re up against here, the better our odds…”

  Of saving your soul, I thought, but kept that last part to myself. Celeste was all too aware of the stakes without me having to remind her again. Instead I tried to say something a bit more encouraging. “My partner has forgotten more about demonology than I’ll ever know. He might have some ideas.”

  Skulick wouldn’t approve of what I was about to do next, but I didn’t see any other choice. I turned left and jumped onto the freeway. My new destination was the one place in this city that was off limits to Hell’s infernal legions.

  7

  Look up “inner sanctum” in the dictionary and you’ll get the following definition: A private or secret place to which few other people are admitted to. I was bringing Celeste to our own secret place and breaking one of our key rules of engagement. Our headquarters was off-limits to clients. But I couldn’t just leave her out in the cold.

  Celeste’s situation was different from our usual cases. The way I saw it, I didn’t have much of a choice. Nevertheless, I expected Skulick to be pissed.

  I turned out to be right.

  My partner was waiting for us at the elevator, and his disapproving scowl spoke volumes. Before I could explain myself, he brusquely pulled me aside. His legs might be useless, but his upper body rippled with muscle. “Ms. Solos, it’s a pleasure meeting you in person,” he said, putting emphasis on the last two words, “but would you please excuse me for a moment while I have a quick word with my partner? We’ll be right with you.”

  We were barely out of hearing range when Skulick got into it. “What were you thinking, bringing her here?”

  “There’s no other way. We were attacked by hellhounds!”

  “And now they have her scent. She’ll lead them right to us.”

  “I couldn’t hold off a sustained demonic assault out there on my own. At least here, we stand a fighting chance. The wards will hold them back.”

  “Can you be certain of that? We don’t even know which entity we’re up against.”

  “That’s your department,” I retorted, unable to suppress my own growing irritation. “I thought this through, believe me.”

  Skulick stole another mistrustful glance at Celeste, who leaned uncertainly against the elevator door. “Which head were you doing your thinking with?”

  Most paranormal investigators died relatively young. It was part of the gig. A highly developed sense of paranoia accounted for Skulick’s long tour of duty in the war against the darkness. From his perspective, bringing the doomed girl here probably ra
nked among the dumbest things I’d ever done—and keep in mind that this man raised me during my teenage years. But I remained convinced that I’d made the right choice. Bringing Celeste to our loft would buy us enough time to plan an effective countermove before the next attack.

  Celeste wiped tears from her face, struggling to keep it together. Skulick softened. My partner can be tough as nails, but underneath the steel there does beat a warm, deeply caring heart. He’s basically a big softie, when you get down to it. None of those gentler feelings were reserved for me at the moment. He shot me a final glare for good measure before his wheelchair buzzed toward our guest.

  Wheeling up to Celeste, he cranked up the charm, his scowl miraculously stretching into a reassuring smile. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.” Skulick nodded at a sleek leather couch. “Please take a seat. Is there something we can offer you to drink?”

  A shaken Celeste glanced longingly at our fully stocked bar.

  “Anything with alcohol will do.”

  Skulick’s smile deepened. He shot me a quick look and said, “Be a gentleman and get the lady a drink, would ya?”

  I obliged while Skulick began to interview our client. I hated petty arguments, and I was glad to see my partner directing his considerable intellect toward the problem at hand.

  “We’ll need to find out more about the particular demon we’re up against,” Skulick said to Celeste. “You can help us by telling me everything you know about this cult your father was involved in.”

  “I wish I could be of more help,” Celeste said, “but up until a few weeks ago I didn’t even know who my father was.”

  Skulick studied her with a thoughtful expression before turning toward his bank of monitors. He tapped a few keys and Desmond Horne’s image filled the large flat-screen TV facing the room.

  “Reviewing your father’s meteoric success over the last twenty-one years might point us in the right direction. Selling your soul was clearly a business transaction, and one that gave him considerable rewards.”

  I scratched my jaw thoughtfully. “Think we’re dealing with Mammon, the demon of wealth and greed?”

  “It’s a possibility,“ Skulick said. ”But there are other, less powerful entities out there who might offer financial gains in exchange for an innocent soul.”

  I finished pouring drinks—one for Celeste, and one for me. She took her whiskey with a grateful smile and downed it in one gulp. I liked a woman who could hold her liquor.

  “You mentioned on the phone that you were suffering from nightmares,” Skulick continued. “Maybe you can tell us more about your dreams. They could provide further clues as to the identity of this entity.”

  “I’ll tell you everything I know,” she said, holding up her empty glass to show me that a refill would not be unwelcome.

  “Before we continue, there’s something we should do. The demon’s hellhounds have caught your scent and won’t rest until they find you. They’ll be able to track you no matter where you hide. The wards will throw them off your trail for a little bit, but they’ll locate you soon enough. There might be a way to delay them, however.”

  I frowned, curious. Skulick continued, “One of the most effective charms against evil is the Prayer to St. Michael. Even better, though—”

  “Is the Medal of the Saints, also known as the armor of God,” I finished.

  A year earlier, Skulick and I had traveled to Slovakia to investigate reports of mass possession. A local priest, Father Jozef Horvath, assisted us in our battle and offered up the Christian relic in thanks. It had played an essential role in the successful outcome of the case, and now we kept it under tight lock and key inside the vault upstairs. Not only did the vault safeguard evil relics, it also acted as a storage space for potent talismans we were saving for a rainy day.

  A day like today.

  If Celeste wore the Medal of the Saints around her neck, she would become invisible to the demonic bloodhounds looking for her. At least for a short while.

  “I’ll get the medal right now,” I volunteered.

  Skulick nodded and for the second time in the last twenty-four hours, I climbed the winding staircase leading up to the vault. There was a bounce in my step this time. For a change I wasn’t locking away a cursed object but retrieving a blessed item that would help us protect an innocent woman.

  As I waited impatiently for the vault door to swing open, I mulled over the facts of this unusual case. Skulick had a point—there were a number of other entities Horne might have bargained with besides Mammon. Cromeck, with his power over goods and money, came to mind. Or perhaps Atlonioa, whose sphere of influence included finance and wealth.

  The list went on. Skulick was the real expert when it came to demonology. I’d picked up a few things over the years, but if anyone could hope to identify the demonic entity hunting Celeste, it was my partner.

  The vault opened and I stepped inside. It took me less than a minute to locate the Medal of the Saints. The round amulet was cast from silver, and a crucifix adorned its surface surrounded by a series of letters: C.S.S.M.L. They stood for Crux Sacra Sit Mihi Lux, a Latin phrase meaning “May the Holy Cross Be for Me a Light.”

  As soon as I touched the pendant, the shrill voices around me faded out and I experienced a deep sense of calm. The power of the amulet was considerable, and I felt hopeful that it would keep Celeste safe for a while.

  I was about to leave the vault when a sound to my left gave me pause. I was used to hearing insidious whispers within these silver-reinforced walls, but this sounded more like approaching footsteps. A chill tore up my spine. Someone else had entered the vault. I spun around and came face to face with our client. I hesitated… and this turned out to be a terrible mistake.

  “Celeste?”

  Her answer was to raise her arm and point a taser right at my chest.

  She pulled the trigger without hesitation and fifty thousand volts of electricity zapped me.

  I went down face first, hitting the ground in a mass of excruciating muscle contractions. Nerves on fire, I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the pain surging through my body.

  Celeste knelt next to me and scooped up the pendant from the floor near my twitching form. She then turned to one of the many shelves inside the vault.

  Celeste was after more than the Medal of Saints.

  She removed another relic from one of the shelves. In her hand, she held an ancient dagger. The knife’s main blade was flanked by two smaller ones, similar to a Japanese sai. I struggled to remember the occult significance of the three-pronged knife.

  Most of the items in the vault remained shrouded in mystery. Even though I’d known Skulick for more than two decades, we’d only hunted monsters together for the last six years. Skulick had refused to let me engage in field work until I left him no choice in the matter. For the most part, the collection represented Skulick’s life’s work, the sum total of his years battling the dark side. I wasn’t privy to the exact magical properties of most of these items, but I knew that Skulick had a pretty damn good reason for keeping them all sealed inside this chamber.

  As Celeste leaned over me, the magical nature of the blade in her hand ceased to be my biggest worry. The razor-sharp dagger could cause plenty of damage on its own. I willed myself to move, but my muscles remained uncooperative.

  To my surprise, Celeste used the dagger to draw a line on the palm of her hand. She leaned closer and allowed her warm blood to drip over my face. I tasted copper and my stomach clenched with revulsion.

  “I’m sorry, Raven. There’s no other way.”

  With these words she rose and turned away. Seconds later, she vanished through the open vault door. My body was on fire, but the pain paled in comparison with the cold sense of betrayal I felt.

  Celeste had played us all.

  8

  Lying sprawled on the vault floor, the feeling of betrayal gave way to another emotion—concern for my partner. Despite being wheelchair-bound, Skulick wouldn�
��t have allowed Celeste to access the top floor without a fight. He could be a real pain at times, but he was the closest thing to family in my life. The thought of him being hurt—or worse—drove an icy wedge of terror into my heart.

  I had to get back to my feet. Unfortunately, my body refused to cooperate. Damn, how could I’ve been so foolish? I had allowed a complete stranger into our base. Who knew what else Celeste might be up to? Was she working in collusion with the demon?

  The thought sent another wave of cold fear through my paralyzed form. I fought back visions of Celeste disabling the wards and allowing our greatest enemies access to the loft. Maybe the theft of the dagger only served as a prelude to a far greater plan of attack. In the worst-case scenario, Skulick and I would end up dead and the treasure trove of mystical objects we protected would fall into the hands of the very creatures we had vowed to defeat.

  Frustration building, I attempted to move again and this time my fingers wiggled as my stunned muscles finally remembered who was supposed to be in charge here. My limbs still felt like bags of cement as, after ten minutes of gradual improvement, I was able to stand again.

  One excruciating step at a time, I made my way out of the vault. The loft felt eerily quiet and my concern for my partner’s wellbeing grew with each step. I eyed the staircase before me and figured the elevator was the better option; considering my current state, I’d probably fall down the stairs and break my legs.

  It would serve you right, I thought.

  “Skulick? You okay?” I croaked.

  Silence.

  Even if Skulick was all right, he probably couldn’t hear me from all the way up here. I stumbled toward the elevator and waited. The lift took forever to arrive. Or at least it seemed that way.

  Once the doors split open to reveal the floor below, my eyes combed our living area. They found my partner’s motorized wheelchair with Skulick slumped in it, unconscious.

  I rushed over and shook his prone body, checking for any visible injuries. There was no sign of trauma, so I let out a sigh of relief. I hadn’t experienced such panic since the day Skulick broke his back.