Raven stumbled to a halt. His heart hammering with terror, he watched as the Plymouth slammed into the demonic figure at full speed. Later he would remember his father winking at him just before the impact. He must’ve imagined that part, his memory playing tricks, but the image persisted. As he grew older, Raven drew a weird comfort from it, this final positive memory of his father to hold on to.
Metal twisted and buckled as the Plymouth erupted into a fireball that lit up the blustery winter night. Heat singed Raven’s face; roaring fire surrounded the demon. It seemed to be laughing. An instant later it disappeared, returning to whatever hellscape had spawned it.
Suddenly there was a new sound, a roaring, unholy noise that seemed to bash against his ears. Raven’s head slumped forward and his body sagged, all strength leaving his limbs. Whatever terrible thing was heading toward him, he no longer had the strength to run. The horrors of the last hour were catching up to him. He’d lost the two people that meant the most to him in the whole world in the same night.
Instead of a new supernatural threat, a familiar man walked over to Raven and gazed at the burning wreckage of the Plymouth. Like his dad, he was sporting a glowing gun, his long trench coat flapping in the wind.
Raven looked up, his eyes blurred with tears.
“Uncle Skulick?” he asked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. His father’s best friend reached down and hauled him to his feet.
13
As the memories slashed through my mind, the past came alive in a rush of images and emotions. I gasped as the zombie demon threatened to crush my throat, and I clenched my fists to hide their trembling. Facing the demon made me feel like I was eight years old again, and the pain of losing my parents felt fresh.
As Robert Horne’s reanimated corpse lashed out at me again, my instincts took over. I had one rule: I didn’t take human lives. But I could use deadly force against the creatures of the night, be they vamps, weres, wraiths or any other form of supernatural nastiness. Robert was a zombie, his lifeless body a vehicle for the demon tearing toward me. Which made him fair game.
Even without Hellseeker, I still had a few tricks up my sleeve. Without hesitation, I whipped out my demon slayer blade and slashed the zombie.
He recoiled with a wail, allowing me to wriggle away from him. I scrambled madly toward my downed pistol. With a desperate lunge, I scooped up Hellseeker and spun toward the demon. Blessed lead stitched Horne’s undead form and drove him back. Had the creature chosen to physically manifest, I would’ve been done for, but within this corpse’s shell he was too weak to resist Hellseeker. There are limits to the power of the blessed pistol, as my father and I discovered two decades earlier when we faced this same beast.
The hail of bullets from the magical gun flung Robert into one of the grotesque statues, a weirdly elongated and horned animal skeleton, and both the bullet-riddled body and the statue went down.
Smoke wafted from Hellseeker, and the stench of cordite burned my nostrils. My hand shook and I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. The demon’s very presence had made me ill. I sucked in deep gulps of air and wiped the sweat from my face.
My brain was on fire; a myriad of questions dominated my thoughts. How could Celeste’s situation be so closely tied to my own? Was it a coincidence that her soul had been promised to my parents’ killer, or was there some connection or design afoot? A chilling thought occurred to me as I reviewed the timeline. Twenty-one years ago my parents had been murdered, about the time Celeste was born…
Dammit, I needed to talk to Skulick about this! Man did I miss having him with me in the field. This monster hunter business worked best as a team effort. Together we might come up with a working theory to explain this crazy connection.
Despite all our efforts, one question had tormented us for years: Which demon had targeted my family? Hell counted many assassins among its legions. I had always believed my father had pissed off the wrong horned bastard during his work as a hunter, but maybe there was a different explanation.
I scrambled to my feet and approached the downed zombie. Empty eyes peered glassily up at me, the demon’s presence long gone. I resisted the temptation to kick the corpse for good measure. God, how I wanted to put the thing that had killed my parents in a world of pain. I exhaled sharply and balled my fists, struggling to maintain my composure. Pulling myself together, I tried to steer my thoughts into a more logical, constructive direction. Better to channel my rage against the real enemy. The dead man before me was a victim and had served as a convenient vehicle to the beast that had caused all this misery. At the stroke of midnight, the filthy beast would materialize in front of Celeste, and he’d find me waiting for him, guns blazing.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulled me out of my seething thoughts of vengeance. I whirled around and came face to face with Detective Jane Archer.
For a split second our recent awkwardness didn’t matter as relief flooded me. I was so happy to see a familiar face. The moment didn’t last long because her service revolver was pointed straight at me.
Archer was a good cop; she must’ve figured out the killer might make a go for Robert Horne next. And from her point of view, the corpse I’d pumped full of bullets wasn’t a demon or monster but the son of one of the most influential men in the city.
Spending the night in a jail cell wasn’t an option. Only a few hours remained before midnight. I intended to be there when the demon came for Celeste’s soul. And there was still a chance of saving the last surviving Horne brother. Getting arrested at this point in the game would be a disaster.
“I know this looks bad, Jane,“ I said, my voice sounding meek to myself, “but there’s an explanation for all of this.”
“I’m listening.” There was a strange calm in her voice, her features unreadable.
I pointed at the corpse at my feet. “Robert Horne was already dead when I got here,” I explained. “The stab wound on his chest matches the one of the other victim.”
Archer ducked into her haunches and located the wound in question. A frown wrinkled her forehead. “So why pump an entire magazine into him?”
“Would you believe me if I told you a demon hitched a ride in Robert Horne’s corpse and took a swing at me?” I said with a sheepish grin twitching at the edges of my lips.
Archer considered this for a beat. To my surprise, she coolly said, “Can’t really blame him.”
I clenched my jaw. “This isn’t funny.”
“Neither is murder.” The playfulness had gone out of her voice, icy now.
“You know me, Archer,” I implored, spreading my hands wide.
“I thought so at one point.” Her gun never wavered as she spoke. All business.
Despite the gun leveled at me, I took a step toward her.
“You have to trust me on this, Jane.”
The professional exterior cracked, and the knot of muscles on the side of her jaw pulsed. “Last time I trusted you, it didn’t work out so well, did it now? To be honest, I don’t think I’m the one who has a problem trusting people.”
Touché.
“I’m sorry, Archer. I really am. I never meant to hurt you.”
Her eyes flickered, but her face maintained its steely composure. “You wouldn’t be the first relationship-phobic guy looking for a quick fling.”
Those words stung, but I deserved them. Archer was right. I avoided relationships, sure, but not for the reasons most guys do. Archer wasn’t a one-night stand to me. I cared about her. And that more than anything terrified me. Every time I allowed someone into my heart, they were taken from me. If something were to happen to Archer because of me, because of what I do…
To my surprise, Archer lowered her pistol
“Tell me, why are the Hornes being targeted?”
“One of them made a deal with a demon, and Hell is about to collect.”
“You got to give me more than that.”
“I’m running out of time, Jane, and it’s a long story.
”
Sirens were growing louder outside the art gallery. More cops were on the way. Any moment now, the place would be swarming with the boys in blue. I had to get out of here. Almost as if Archer had read my thoughts, she nodded at the exit.
“I believe you didn’t kill this man, but once forensics runs those bullets and traces them back to your gun, I won’t be able to protect you.”
“This isn’t a normal gun. They won’t be able to trace the ballistics.”
Archer seem to think about the implications of this statement. “You’re saying you have a magic gun?”
I shrugged. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“You want to know why I became a cop?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “I wanted to make a difference, to put the animals that hurt the little guys behind bars. But this city has a bigger problem than crime, doesn’t it? Let me help you, Raven. That’s all I’m asking for.”
“I’m public enemy number one to the Man Below. I don’t think it’s a good idea to get too close to me.”
“As far as I recall, you once told me that no one is safe in a Cursed City.”
“This isn’t just your battle. Whatever is happening in this city, it’s affecting everyone.”
Damn, she made a lot of sense. And she looked far better than a woman who’d just been pointing a gun at me should. “You want to help? Look the other way and let me go.”
“You can’t fight this battle on your own.”
She was right, of course. Fighting the forces of Hell wasn’t a solo act. With Skulick out of the picture, I was vulnerable. I needed someone to cover my back. Could that someone be Archer?
She’d asked the right question, but the answer would have to wait. Even she seemed aware of this and stepped aside, nodding at the exit again. The sirens were deafening now.
“Go!” she said.
I took a step closer and fought the temptation to touch her shoulder. I caught a whiff of her perfume and flashed back to the passionate night we’d spent together. She stepped aside before I could make up my mind to try to reach out. I backed away and slipped through the art gallery’s back door.
Archer had not completely forgiven me but maybe I could make things right in the future.
Sometimes all you need is hope.
Hope, a magic gun and enough ammo to make Hell take notice.
14
Night skulked the buildings as the city streaked past me. Noticing the Equus Bass’ climbing speedometer, I willed myself to slow down. Getting pulled over at this point wouldn’t help anyone. It would take about an hour to make my way to the Horne estate if I followed the speed limit. I hoped I would be in time.
The clock on the dashboard read 8:13 PM. By now Eric Horne must’ve landed at the airport and was probably on his way to his daddy’s estate. According to Skulick’s intel, the place was impenetrable, with both human and electronic security measures turning the property into a fortress. Celeste’s magic would give her an edge. Fortunately, I wielded some supernatural firepower of my own.
The urban sprawl gave way to rolling countryside as the city’s skyline receded in my rear-view mirror. My phone rang, and I had a good idea of who it was before I picked up. I tapped the answer button, and Skulick’s voice filled my car.
“Kid, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the last hour. The news is going nuts over the second Horne murder. Talk to me, what’s going on?”
I felt bad for ignoring my partner’s calls for that long, but I’d had my hands full. Zombies, graffiti monsters, attractive women trying to kill me, and confronting the demon that had killed my parents—it had been a busy day. “Robert Horne is dead. Celeste got to him first. And apparently low-level sleeping spells are only the tip of the iceberg of what she’s capable of.”
There was a beat of silence before Skulick said, “What do you mean?”
“Has a painting ever tried to eat you?”
“Well, there was that time in Scotland…”
My partner can be a real comedian at times but maybe he was telling the truth. The man has faced some crazy shit over the years.
“Never mind,” I said. One thing’s for sure. Celeste has been studying magic for years. And you know what that means?”
“She must’ve known about her father’s Faustian pact long before she called us.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I said. We were on the same page here.
“Something else has been bothering me. How does a child raised by a maid turn into a skilled spellcaster?”
I’d been asking myself the same question. There was only one possible explanation.
“She’d need a teacher and mentor to reach that level of skill,” I said.
“Exactly. Perhaps in her frustration she conjured her own demon.”
The thought of possibly having to go up against two of Hell’s servants made my stomach churn.
“Let’s say Celeste’s story was true but she changed the timeline,” I said. “She finds out about her father and starts looking into her options. She begins to study magic and ignores the risks to her soul. After all, the girl has nothing to lose.”
“Still doesn’t explain why she waited until the last moment to go after the Soul Dagger.”
“Maybe she only recently found out about the relic.”
I ruled out this notion as soon as I brought it up. The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that we were missing a part of the puzzle.
“Maybe she lied about the date when the demon is going to collect her soul?” I wondered out loud.
“The beast’s recent activity level suggests otherwise. And so does the velocity of her killing spree.”
I had to concur with Skulick. There was a reckless urgency to these killings. Celeste was playing for keeps.
“There’s something else I haven’t told you yet,” I suddenly said, surprised at myself. I had planned to keep the next part to myself, at least until I knew more. But Skulick has a way of drawing information out of me. Plus I needed to get this off my chest.
“I’m all ears,” Skulick said.
My voice was empty of all emotion as I spoke. “I confronted the demon back at Robert Horne’s art gallery…and it’s not the first time we faced him.”
A deep silence greeted me on the other end of the line.
“We’re up against the monster that killed mom and dad.”
There ya go. The cat was out of the bag.
I tried to imagine Skulick’s face during this moment. We both had spent more than a decade trying to identify my parents’ killer and never gotten even close.
“Are you sure, kid?” Skulick said, his voice trembling with barely contained emotion. I think we’d both given up hope of ever avenging my parents. The denizens of Hell were many. As the years passed, new horrors had kept us busy and demanded our time and skill. Chasing after ghosts became a luxury when new monsters threatened the world every day. Still, the need for closure remained, like an open wound that refused to heal. Could this case be our chance of putting the past behind us?
“If that’s true, do you know what it means?”
I had a theory. It was crazy, but everything about this situation was crazy. I decided to share it with Skulick.
“Horne might not have offered up his daughter’s soul for the reason we thought,” I said. “Maybe he wanted the demon to kill my parents. It would mean Horne didn’t conjure Mammon or one of the other wealth demons. Instead, he must’ve summoned one of Hell’s assassins to do his bidding.”
“What would a media tycoon like Horne have to gain from your parents’ death?” Skulick asked, giving voice to the myriad of crazy thoughts simmering inside of me.
The question hung there.
“This is absurd,” Skulick acknowledged.
“No shit. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
“And if Horne did target your parents, what are the odds his daughter would seek us out twenty-one years later by chance?�
��
“Somewhere south of zero,” I said. “There’s something we’re not seeing here.”
“You’d better return to headquarters,” Skulick said. ”I’m getting a bad vibe about all of this.”
“Sorry, but no can do,” I said. “I’m on my way to the Horne estate.”
“Listen, kid, I can only imagine how this must be affecting you. If it weren’t for this goddamn chair, I’d be out there with you. You’re walking into the lion’s den without backup. Without knowing what game Horne and his daughter are playing…well, I’m afraid you’re not going be walking back out again.”
“I’m sorry, Skulick, but I have no choice.”
There was a steely determination in my voice.
“Getting yourself killed isn’t the way to honor your parents.”
“I survived the demon once. I can do it again.”
Talk about an idle boast; Skulick had saved my sorry ass that night. Nevertheless, I needed to pump myself up for the upcoming confrontation. I had to believe I was doing the right thing here.
“Even if you find the answers you’re looking for, how will you be able to destroy this demon?”
“That’s why I’m going to interrogate Horne. Only he knows what we’re dealing with here and why my parents were targeted.”
And I want to look into the bastard’s eyes before I pull the trigger, I mentally added. Out loud, I said, “Wish me luck.”
With these words I killed the call. The renewed silence weighed heavy on me. Outside the car’s windshield, the tree cover grew denser. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve tried to enjoy the bucolic view. For city boys like me, the country always had a special charm.
But not tonight. I barely noticed anything other than the stretch of road unwinding ahead of me.
Skulick was right. I was rushing into battle. But this wasn’t a suicide mission, at least not in my mind. I had a plan. I would infiltrate the property and seek out the bastard who’d ordered my parents’ murder. Soon, Desmond Horne would have to answer for the crimes of the past.
Shadow Detective Supernatural Dark Urban Fantasy Series: Books 1-3 (Shadow Detective Boxset) Page 9
