Shadow Detective Supernatural Dark Urban Fantasy Series: Books 1-3 (Shadow Detective Boxset)

by William Massa

  The Devil was known as the Prince of Lies for a good reason. His minions were cut from the same cloth. Who knew what game this monster might be playing? Sure, he wanted revenge—but what would happen once the master vampire was out of the picture? The moment I turned my back on him, odds were high he’d double cross me. Delivering me to Morgal would definitely get him back in the archdemon’s good graces. I refused to take that chance.

  “Sorry, bud, but I don’t work with the enemy.”

  “How does the old saying go again? The enemy of my enemy is my friend, monster hunter.”

  Good point. The persuasive bastard sure didn’t like to give up. But I could be stubborn too.

  “Morgal murdered my family!” I snapped. “I’ve seen over and over again what your kind is capable of.”

  “I assume that means you won’t help me.”

  “You’re smarter than you look.”

  “Perhaps you’ll change your mind as the night approaches.”

  The sudden sound of a lock being opened made me tighten my grip on Hellseeker. A beat later, a tall Asian man emerged from his apartment. He gaped at me when he spotted the green glowing gun in my hand and slammed the door shut. Smart guy. By the time I shifted my attention back to Cyon, the demon had vanished into thin air. Great.

  I checked my watch and choked back a surprised gasp. Hours had passed during my conversation with the demon. Once more, the monster’ presence had warped space and time. Dammit! It would be dark within less than an hour. So much for having the whole afternoon to plan a counterattack against Marek. I suspected Cyon had held me here for so long to increase the odds of me joining forces with him.

  Still wondering if I’d made a terrible mistake by refusing this alliance with Cyon, I made my way out of the building. Was going up against Marek and his army of vampires on my own the smartest move?

  I didn’t need to team up with some demon to take down Marek. You want to know why? I already had a partner. If anyone knew how to deal with Marek, it would be Skulick.

  Reassured by this thought, I climbed into my muscle car and fired up the engine. High above, the supernaturally charged building cast its ominous shadow over the Cursed City. It felt like a harbinger of darker things to come.

  14

  The night belongs to me, Skulick thought as he sprinted across a series of dark rooftops like some Parkour artist on steroids. As he reached the edge of the roof, he didn’t pay attention to the six-story drop. Nor did he slow down. Instead he fearlessly launched himself into the air, confident of clearing the twenty-five-foot gap. Air whistled through his hair as the neighboring rooftop jumped into view. Seconds later, his feet were on solid ground again. Never slowing down, he kept on moving through the darkness.

  His formerly shattered body hummed with strength and energy. After spending a long year trapped in a wheelchair, being able to use his legs again felt more amazing than he could ever have imagined. A dark joy filled his heart—and he hated himself for it.

  Even though he was technically undead now, he felt more alive than ever. His newly enhanced senses were on fire, the darkness alive with a myriad of new sights and sounds. Moonlight pulsed around him, revealing colors and textures beyond human senses. He heard a couple making love in an apartment across the street, a small child crying out in the unit two buildings down from him, a homeless man riffling through a dumpster on the streets below. Every sight and sound told its own story, providing the voyeuristic rush of peeking into another world.

  At first, Skulick had feared he might succumb to sensory overload. Somehow he was not only able to absorb all the new impressions bombarding him from every direction, but he craved more of them. He wanted to devour every sensation, to drink in every minute detail of the night. Marek’s blood in his veins had turned him into a god.

  A monster, he corrected himself. And what you really want to drink is blood.

  Despite wearing the Medal of the Saints, he was struggling to cling to the memory of the man he once was. Only his hatred for Marek kept him from succumbing to the vampire blood’s dark call—the need to feed, to sink his fangs into living flesh was overpowering. He had embraced the darkness to slay the vampire who’d stolen his life, not to become a soulless monster himself.

  The wooden stake in his hand felt rough to the touch, and his vampire nature recoiled from its power. Adorned with a series of glyphs, it was purported to have been carved from the wood of the cross that Jesus had died on. The blessed stake was known as the Bloodslayer, and Skulick planned to use it first against Marek before driving it into his own heart.

  Skulick hurtled through the air once more, landing on the next rooftop. He maintained his grueling pace for a few more seconds before finally slowing down. He wasn’t tired. He’d simply reached his destination.

  Up ahead, a few hundred feet beyond his current position, the wrecking yard awaited him. The blood roaring through his veins had steered him to the place where Raven had first run into his old foe. Marek hadn’t even deemed them enough of a threat to move his nest to another location.

  I’m coming for you, you cocky bastard, Skulick thought, his emotions cresting. Marek’s overconfidence would be his undoing.

  Skulick dove off the building. He dropped with superhuman grace and landed on the street. Picking up his pace again, he surged toward the six-foot chain-link fence and leapt over the barrier without hesitation. Moments later he was inside the junkyard, his eyes combing the stark surroundings. A post-apocalyptic wasteland of rotting machinery stretched out in all directions. The junkyard seemed deserted, but Skulick knew better. Marek’s blood had led him to this place for a reason. The demon-vampire and his unholy tribe were here.

  Fingers clutched tightly around the Bloodslayer, Skulick dove into the dark car cemetery.

  Moving swiftly, Skulick pulled the hood of his dark jacket over his head and edged deeper into the maze of broken cars. The plan was to infiltrate the vampire tribe and get close enough to Marek to launch an attack before the demon-vampire knew what hit him. Judging by what Raven had told him, Marek’s new crew consisted of a ragtag group of runaways, homeless people, and other forsaken souls. Newly made vamps consumed by ravenous, animalistic needs, which left little room for strategic thinking. Without Marek’s guidance, they could easily be taken out one by one. Skulick wanted Marek’s followers to see their master go down. Cut off the head of the viper and the body will soon follow—a sound philosophy in battle.

  A sound made Skulick whirl.

  Lurking behind a gutted Jeep was a lonesome figure sporting a ragged hoodie. More of the urban spooks quickly joined the first vampire. The pale figures slipped from the mountains of jagged steel and gathered in the clearing, almost as if they were following some silent summoning call.

  The call of the night, Skulick thought. The call of my master’s blood.

  He froze, horrified by his own thoughts. Their master, he desperately corrected himself. Not mine.

  Despite the protective properties of the Medal of the Saints, he could feel Marek’s call stirring inside him. He was gripped by visions of himself sinking his teeth into the living, feasting on their hot blood.

  No! Clenching his jaw, he shook off the horrible thoughts threatening to take hold of him. Focus on the mission.

  His enhanced senses combed the darkness, searching for Marek as his tribe filled the wrecking yard. One by one, more silhouettes peeled away from the metallic refuse, the ghostly pallor of their faces enhanced by the moonlight. Skulick counted at least twenty. Could he pull this off without the undead horde tearing him apart first? He itched to use the magical stake that he kept hidden under his over-sized hoodie.

  Be patient, he urged himself. Stay calm. Your chance to strike will come all too soon.

  The gang of vampires ignored him, apparently seeing him as one of their own. Which, all things considered, wasn’t that far off the mark. Analyzing the movement of the group, Skulick realized they were gathering around an imposing car crusher. The
towering compactor jutted from the landscape of ravaged and razed cars like a cathedral devoted to some post-apocalyptic god. The air crackled with anticipation. A beat later, a figure appeared atop the car crusher.

  Skulick took a step closer and narrowed his eyes.

  If Skulick had still been alive, his breath would have caught in his throat. He had steeled himself for this moment, played it in his mind’s eye many times, but the reality still hit him hard. It was the monster who had murdered his fiancée. Who had taken everything from him.

  Raven had described Marek as a bat-like creature, horribly twisted by the demon blood he had consumed, but the figure looming above the crowd now resembled the Marek of his nightmares. Handsome, seductive, cruel. Longish jet-black hair framed perfectly chiseled ivory features. Only the missing eye blemished his face. It seemed Marek still possessed the ability to shift back and forth between his old visage and his new, more monstrous self.

  On some level it would have been easier to face a winged monstrosity than the vampire who had haunted him for all these years. Over the last three decades, Skulick had faced his share of beasts. He didn’t fear monsters, but the sight of that familiar, coldly cruel face sent a pang of fear through his heart.

  Skulick’s fingers whitened around the stake. He pushed the memories of his fiancée out of his mind and instead focused on visualizing himself driving the Bloodslayer through Marek’s undead heart.

  The time had come to challenge his love’s murderer to a duel to the death. A part of him still wondered how Marek had survived Richard’s attack thirty years earlier, but his hatred far outweighed his curiosity. Why did it matter? They’d both be dead soon. All Skulick had time for was vengeance.

  Determined, Skulick drew closer.

  “My children, the time has come to reveal ourselves to this city.”

  Marek’s seductive voice rang through the night, exuding power and confidence. Skulick fought back the irrational impulse to throw down the stake and tear off his protective medallion so he could join the ranks of Marek’s army.

  Skulick gritted his teeth, his determination fraying. The call of Marek’s blood threatened his resolve. An image of Michelle’s face, lovely and laughing, filled his mind. He would not fail her now, not again.

  Skulick willed himself forward. To his growing horror, he struggled to tap into the hatred that had fueled his mission for all these decades. Each step became an excruciating exercise, almost as if the terrain was holding him back. The blood’s power was growing stronger as he zeroed in on Marek.

  “We have dwelled in the dark corners of the world for far too long, hiding in the shadows when we should be ruling this world,” Marek said. “No one will stop us from taking our rightful place.”

  Marek’s gaze locked on Skulick, and he realized the jig was up.

  “Not even you, Detective Skulick!”

  Skulick froze in place, sensing the full attention of the tribe of vampires turning toward him.

  “It’s so nice for you to join us,” Marek said. There was no fear in the demon-vampire’s voice, no sense of alarm.

  The vampires closed in, radiating a sense of coiled menace. One word from their master, and this horde would be on him like vultures on carrion. He could see their nails lengthening into razor-like talons.

  “Marek,” Skulick growled.

  “Did you believe you could sneak up on me with my blood in your veins?”

  Skulick clenched his jaw. This is it!

  One hand whipped out a high-intensity UV light he had brought along and spun it at the vamps encircling him. The blinding light fell across their albino features, sizzling skin.

  As the howls of the blistering vampires filled the night, Skulick launched himself at the car crusher. He landed on top of the compactor. Moving like a machine, he spun the UV light toward the master-vampire, and the creature emitted a roar of agony. His other hand drew the Bloodslayer and spun toward his arch-nemesis.

  Marek backed off, the magical stake missing him by inches. They looked at each – into each other – mere feet between them. Marek’s remaining inhuman eye flashed with fury.

  An instant later, the demon-vampire was upon him, attacking with ferocious, manic energy. The claws slashed Skulick’s hoodie, shredding fabric and slicing the flesh below. Black blood oozed from the wound, and Skulick stifled a scream as he stumbled back. Below them the congregation of vampires watched the battle in hushed silence.

  “I’ve waited for this a long time, detective,” Marek said.

  “Thirty years,” Skulick replied. He tried to maneuver Bloodslayer into position. The vampire seemed unconcerned, possibly thinking it was an ordinary stake. Well, Skulick planned to teach him otherwise. “Strange how it took a monster to create a monster hunter,” Marek continued. “Tell me, Skulick, what is the last thing you see when you close your eyes at night? Is it your dead lover, or is it me draining the last drop of life from her?”

  Marek’s words were meant to throw him off, make him lose his cool so he would do something stupid. And goddamnit, it was working. Even though he tried to block out the taunts, he could feel rage sweeping all rational thoughts aside. Marek was getting to him. He had to finish the bastard off fast.

  With renewed determination surging through him, Skulick leaped at the master-vampire. He dodged two ferocious thrusts from Marek’s talons, then came in low and rammed his blessed stake into the undead bastard.

  For a split second, the world froze. He could see the surging mob below the car crusher grow still, felt the shock ripple through the crowd of hooded followers.

  He’d done it.

  He’d managed to put an end to the ancient undead evil.

  Skulick expected the demon-vampire’s face to shrivel up and turn to ash, as lesser vampires did when staked, but instead the fiend’s lips curled up into a diabolical smile. Before Skulick could react, the demon-vampire’s clawed hand snapped around Skulick’s grip on the stake. The tendons and muscles on his forearm thickened, growing more powerful but also misshapen. One of the little bones in Skulick’s hand snapped under the force of the vampire’s grip.

  He looked down at the stake. The Bloodslayer should have destroyed Marek.

  Adrenalized by a dark energy, Marek’s skin thickened, forming a kind of reptilian flesh armor, becoming even more demonic in appearance. The face caved in, elongating, as rows of pointed teeth joined the vampire fangs. The skin grew mottled and reptilian, a series of horns erupting from the skull. And finally, the shoulders cracked and buckled, and giant, bat-like wings exploded from the master vampire’s back. As the wings unfurled, they blocked out the moonlight above.

  It dawned on Skulick that he’d made a terrible miscalculation. Raven had told him that the monster he now faced wasn’t merely a vampire any longer but something different.

  Something more.

  And that meant the rules for destroying Marek had changed.

  A peal of monstrous laughter erupted from the demon-vampire as he yanked out the stake and cast it aside. The blessed wood dripped black blood as it clattered on the ground fifteen feet below the crusher.

  Then one of the massive wings slammed into Skulick and swept him off the crusher.

  He crashed to the ground, the impact sending up plumes of dust. Before Skulick could scramble back to his feet, Marek’s giant winged shadow engulfed him.

  Skulick tried to back away, but the tribe of vampires kept him hemmed in. There was nowhere to go.

  “I will rule this city,” Marek promised. He leaned closer and added, “And you, my dear detective, will stand by my side as my blood rains down the sky and wipes this place clean of the human scourge.”

  With these words, Marek tore the Medal of the Saints off Skulick’s neck, and the world transformed into a place of inhuman hunger and darkness.

  15

  Night had already fallen by the time I arrived back at the loft. My stomach churned with anxiety. Marek and his vampires were out there somewhere, gearing up for the f
inal stage of the blood ritual.

  A storm is coming.

  I struggled to push my fatalistic thoughts aside and maintain a positive outlook on the situation, but my sense of impending dread increased the moment I set foot in the loft. I knew immediately something was terribly wrong. Someone had turned off the computer screens on Skulick’s desk.

  Impossible.

  My partner never shut off his lifeline to the outside world, not even when he was sleeping. The flickering screens never went dark. At least not until this moment.

  I surged toward the desk and stopped dead in my tracks. An empty wheelchair sat next to the dark monitors. I don’t know for how long I stood there, staring at the abandoned chair with a dumbfounded expression plastered across my face. Where was my partner? It wasn’t like he could get up and walk away…

  My gaze fell across the chalice resting on the floor. It was empty.

  Oh no…

  He’d done it. Skulick had taken the blood. There was a mad logic to it, emphasis on “mad.” I vividly recalled how shaken Skulick had been when he learned about Marek’s return. Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that. My partner had been this city’s silent guardian for years, watching over it best he could. But this was one fight he would refuse to observe from behind the safety of his command desk. He’d sacrificed everything to get a chance at revenge. To stop the master vampire. Dammit, I should have seen this coming.

  I held up the cup to the light, confirming that the dark liquid had been drained from it. Only a few drops remained. My heart sank. History was repeating itself. Once again, it appeared that I’d lost another person I cared deeply about. First my parents, then Archer, and now Skulick.

  Blood rushed in my ears, and I craved a drink. Maybe just one to steady my nerves. Losing my partner to the wheelchair less than a year ago had been a devastating blow. But as time had passed, I’d adjusted. Skulick might not have been by my side any longer when I battled the horrors of this city, but he was always a phone call away. A steady, guiding presence in my life. In a way, Archer had taken his place, at least in the field but now I was utterly alone.