American Arcane: West Coast Witch
Justen Hunter
Copyright 2013 Justen Hunter
Cover photo by Kalen O'Donnell
Thanks to Heather, my wonderful friend, who helped work with me on this book, and who was my first real reader. This book wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.
Chapter 1
I hate going to the beach. However, my buddy Matt had decided to abduct me for the evening, and so I was going to go through a party on the beach now.
“I could be home right now.” I said.
I could see Matt roll his eyes in the evening light. “Yea, and what would you be doing? You’d be sitting at home, reading and doing nothing. You can go be a social creature for once. It’s healthy, you know.”
“Yea, yea.” I rolled my eyes as well. “I’ll take my books any day over whatever surfer dudes you come up with.”
“There won’t be any surfing. Too dark for that.” He said. “But there’ll be some drinks, some chicks. You’ll have fun. I promise, Eric.”
I wouldn’t deny it. I was a bit of a shut in. But I would give this to Matt, he didn’t steer me wrong often. So, I sat and waited like a good boy as we drove out to Ocean Beach. By the time we got there, the sun had set, and the moon was rising in the evening sky.
“Full moon tonight.” I remarked.
“Yea, reason we picked tonight.” Matt said as he got into the back of the Jeep and grabbed the beach towels. “Freaking perfect.”
We walked out to the beach, where the bonfire was already built and burning. I shook hands with a few of the other party-goers and made the rounds . One of them, a short, stocky guy named Brett, introduced himself. “I’m the one handling the booze tonight.”
“Well, you just became who I’m sitting next to.” I said. “Got dragged here by Matt, and well…”
“Yea, Matt is Matt.” Brett chuckled. “Got any particular poison?”
I grabbed a beer, and rolled out my towel near the fire. On one side was Brett, the other a couple who were already making out. I sighed, and sat back. “So, Brett, what do you do?”
“Police Academy.” He said. “Dad was a cop, grandpa was a cop. Irish tradition, you know?” He flashed a grin. “How about you?”
“I tend bar at a college joint down by State.” I said. “Not exactly what I was planning to do with a Master’s, but you never know where you end up, do you?”
“Amen to that.” He laughed a little. “I had every intention of going into Arcane Law.”
I blanched a little. Ever since the Four-Thirteen five years ago, the new supernatural races out there had become a hot button issue. Plenty of people were willing to argue about what the rights of vampires and weres were.
“Not a fan of the Arcanes, I take it?”
“Never really had too much experience with them, but I’m not one for politics and all that stuff. I try to be a good person, and I support Arcane rights, but I’m not going to pick up a sign over it.”
“Hey, it’s your beliefs, man.” Brett said. “Hey, bet you five Matt is going to end up like those two next to you within the hour.”
“I don’t take sucker bets.” I said, glancing over at the couple.
We had been talking for about fifteen minutes when a multitude of sounds back from near the road filled the air. The sound of howls.
I heard Matt’s voice. “Aw, hell. Looks like we’ve got some weres to deal with.” I saw him appear from the other side of the fire, and he gestured to me. “Eric, Brett, Luke, come on, let’s see if we can get them to play nice.”
Brett and I stood up, and another guy dressed in an Army t-shirt and shorts got up. Matt led us over to where the howls had come from. My mind started to race a little when I saw what was there.
It was half a dozen weres. They were in their human forms, but they were all shirtless. It was completely unfair that, as a species, they should just look better than your average human. Each was tall, athletic. I supposed, however, that as a rule, weres were a lot more physical than your average human, and their physique was a result of it. They all had a pair of tattoos, done like bands around their arms. The leader, a tall, dark-haired man, flat out glared at us.
“Hey, man,” Matt said. “We were trying to enjoy a bonfire.”
“Yea, well, we want to be able to shift and enjoy the moon.” He said. “It’s a big beach, but we’re pretty…noisy.”
I took a look at the man. He had a hard stance, one that betrayed a bit. He was a man who was used to getting what he wanted.
I spoke up. “Yea, well, we don’t need to get all grabby over it.” I held out my hands. “Listen, we’re probably not going to be here all night, and it’s still early. You can head over here, grab a few drinks, and we’ll leave you the beach once we’re all partied out.”
The leader tensed, then grinned. “Well, I can deal with that.” He extended his hand, and we shook hands. His grip was firm, his hands callused and well-used. “Name’s Tyler.”
“Hey, Tyler, I’m Eric. Let’s get you guys some beers.”
As we the weres put their shirts back on and headed to follow us back to the beach, Brett said to me. “Weres in our booze? Jeez, I was hoping to have some stuff left over.”
“Hey, Mister-Arcane-Rights activist,” I said. “We’re all going to be playing nice here. I got dragged here, I don’t really want to fight over some sand.”
“And here I thought Matt was the one who worked with kids.”
I chuckled. “Well, yea, I’m used to drunks. There’s not too much of a difference.”
The weres settled in with us, and they blended in fast. Weres were, from what I knew, pretty social, and liquored-up people did the rest. Matt gave me a playful slug on the shoulder with a “good save on that one,” and I settled back in on my beach towel.
I pulled out my phone after a bit, and checked my messages. I had missed a call from Pacific Books, my favorite local book store, telling me my orders had come in.
“What’s interesting?”
I turned to face the source. It was the guy who had been making out with the chick next to me earlier, who was now missing. “Oh, hey.” I said. “Uh, nothing, just had a voice mail.”
He was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and slacks. He was tanned, with a sleek build to him. His features were thin, but still seemed strong. “Hey, I wanted to thank you for hashing it out with the weres.”
“Oh, it’s no problem.” I shrugged. “It wasn’t anything big. I just made a suggestion and offered beer.”
“Hey, I’ve got a shot with a werewolf girl now. I’m not complaining. I’m Nick.” He flashed a smirk.
“But weren’t you and…” I shook my head. “Never mind. I’m Eric.”
“Hey, let me say thanks, in my own way, all right?”
I took a look at him, appraising. He seemed harmless enough in the offer. “Sure.” I remarked. “What did you have in mind?”
“Can I have your palm?” He asked.
“My palm?”
“Yea,” He nodded. “I’ll read it, tell you what I see.”
Sure, there were werewolves, vampires, and all that running around the world, but was I still a skeptic? A bit, sure. However, I figured there was no harm in it, so I extended my hand, palm up. “Right hand, right?”
“That’ll work.” Nick moved one hand under mine. “All right, let’s see.” He sat up, folding his legs on his towel. He spent a minute tracing lines on my hand, small noises coming from him, murmurs of interest.
I sat patiently, until he remarked. “Well, I have something.”
“Go for it.”
Nick nodded. “All right, first, I’m seeing that you’re an intelligent person.”
“Yea, well, I don’t have a Ma
ster’s for collecting stamps.”
“I bet.” He traced a line down. “But you’re not really doing much with it. You want to do something more, but the opportunity hasn’t popped up yet.”
“You were listening in on my conversation with Brett, weren’t you?”
“A bit.” A mischievous grin crossed his face. “But there is one thing I’ll say. This will all change, Eric. I promise. You’ve got something coming, something you’d never have expected.”
“Really?” I arched an eyebrow. “Well, I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Hey, don’t knock it. I know that much. You’re going to get a whole new look on life soon.”
I had to laugh. “Man, I don’t even know who you are, and you’re telling me my life’s going to change?”
“Like I said, the name is Nick. And yea, you’re going to get a real kicker.”
I pulled my hand back. “Yea, sure, whatever.” I muttered. Something about this guy set me on edge now. I didn’t like it. I wasn’t usually one to let myself be ruled by instinct, but I had a decent sense about people. He was hiding something, something more to him than I could tell at first glance.
I spent the rest of the night avoiding the crazy man Nick. I hung out with a few of Matt’s friends and making small talk.
By the time we left, I was almost ready to pass out. “That was a weird night.” I said as I climbed into the passenger seat. The night was already coming up with the sounds of the werewolves, shifting and doing whatever weres do on a beach in the full moon. No, I didn’t particularly want to think about that.
“Yea, no kidding. Werewolves, and all that. I’d never met one before, honestly.”
“They were pretty chill, once we offered them beer.”I sunk into the seat, way too eager to be heading back to my futon and sleep.
“Booze, the great peacemaker. What do you say, we mediate the Life League and the Arcanes First movement?” Matt turned the car on and started back towards the city proper.
“You’re a braver man than I.” I muttered. “Hey, there was a guy named Nick there tonight. Dark hair, maybe early thirties, was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Do you know him?”
“Nick?” He thought about it for a moment.”No, doesn’t ring any bells. Why do you ask?”
“No big. He just said some things. It was a bit creepy.”
Matt shrugged. “Well, maybe someone brought him along. Did you catch a last name?”
“Uh, no, no I didn’t.”
“Well, it’s probably nothing. After all, what are the chances of you seeing him again?”
I had a sinking feeling. I made a mental note, that the next time I saw Nick, if I ever did, I would try to figure out what his deal was.
Chapter 2
I tended bar at McLellan’s, a haunt for current and former San Francisco State students. I had worked there for a few years, and had ended up as the only truly full-time bartender there.
My Tuesday night had been pretty quiet, apart from a few complains of the Giants’ lack-luster autumn. That all changed, however, around nine o’clock and the investigator.
He was a plain looking man, of an average height and stocky build. His brown hair was thinning, and his eyes were little brown beads. He wore a cheap suit, and he was sweating underneath the collar. I pitied him a little. It was an Indian summer, for San Francisco, and the usually cool weather was vacant. I’d hate to be working on a hot night like this one. That thought was only sullied by the fact that I was working.
“What can I get you?” I asked him.
He reached inside his jacket, pulling a picture from a pocket. “Just a few questions. Do you recognize her?”
I studied the picture for a moment. The girl in the picture was a collegiate, most likely. She was maybe in her early twenties. She had pinkish short blond hair, and a playful smile.
“Yea,” I said. “Sam Coolidge.” I answered, a rush of memories suddenly rushing back. It had been a while, but I definitely knew her. “We dated for a few months.”
“She the type to get into trouble?” The man asked.
“No, not really.” I said. “We used to date, and we were friends afterward, but we haven't really been the closest recently. What's happened to her?”
“I beg your pardon?” He arched a thick eyebrow.
“You ask for information about Samantha, and you're being rather vague about it. What’s she gotten into? Are you some kind of cop, or private eye?”
“Private eye?” The man laughed. “That’s an old one for a kid like you.”
“I grew up on film noir, and you are dodging my question, Mister.”
“The name’s Raymond Francis, and yea, I am a private investigator. I'm a friend of the family, and she went missing last week. I was asked to look into the disappearance.”
“Well, I really wish I could help you, but like I said, it's been a while since I've seen her.”
He reached inside his pocket again. “Well, thanks for your time anyways, Eric.” He said, after glancing at my name tag. “Here, take my card.” He said.
I took the card and made it disappear into my apron. “Sure thing, Mr. Francis, anything I can do to help.”
“Thanks, man.” Francis stood up, and left.
My manager came by as Francis left. “Now who was that?” Terry Simms was a plump black man of about forty. He’d bought the bar a few years ago, and so far had proved to be a pretty good boss. Tough, but fair, as it were.
“A private eye, boss.” I said. “He was asking after a patron of ours, someone I went to class with, said she’s been missing since last week.”
“You remember anything?”
I shrugged. “I couldn’t think of anything. Sam wasn’t really the type to get into trouble, as far as I knew. A bit of a party gal, but I hadn’t really checked up with her in a while.”
“Sam Coolidge?” He furrowed his brow. “Yea, I remember the gal. You two were dating when you first started here.”
“Yea,” I nodded. “It's been a while. Apparently she's missing.”
“Ouch, hope it all turns out all right. In the mean time, go fill a few pitchers. Table six is getting feisty.”
The rest of the night was a blur, like most nights were. By the time we closed, I was bum tired. Terry went home early, leaving me to direct the rest of the staff in cleaning up. At around one, I gathered up the garbage and went out back to the dumpster, towing with me one of the waitresses, a tiny brunette named Jennifer.
Jennifer had decided that, since I had a pulse, I needed to hear about her new boyfriend who lacked one. I’d never been fond of vampires, mostly because they gave me the creeps, but I wasn’t racist either. Like most liberal-minded people, I supported Arcane rights. It didn’t mean I wanted to hear about vampire sex.
“Jen?” I sighed as I brought out the last bag. “When did humans become old news?”
“Well, hey, dead’s the new black.” She said. “Darius is so-“
I lost my composure and laughed. “Darius? Wow. I…I don’t even know how to come back from that.”
“You don’t have to be like that.” She grumbled.
“Sorry, just seems a little funny when I hear some of the names vamps come up with. Come on, let’s get the trash out. I want to go home.” I hefted four bags over to the dumpster, and flipped it open.
It took me a minute to process what I saw, and I nearly just dumped the bags in through a force of habit. “Ah, hell.” I dropped the bags.
“Eric?” She furrowed her brow. “Eric, what’s wrong?” She hopped up to look into the dumpster, as she was too short to just peer in. “Oh, my God!” Her face started to turn green.
I shook my head. “Jen? Jen, I need you to stay cool, all right?”
“Cool! What the hell? That’s…”
“Jen, go inside, and call 911. Don’t get excited, just tell them exactly what we found. You hear me?” She nodded. “Good. Now, go call the cops.”
I looked back to the dumpster, and fought an urge
to be sick myself.
Raymond Francis’s dead beady eyes stared up at me. There went my night.
The police got there in about twenty minutes. The initial officer who showed up was a uniformed patrolman who called in the cavalry. I watched as I was ushered off to the street, given coffee and one of those shock blankets by another officer, and was told to wait. The coffee, I could appreciate. I’d never understood the blanket, though. I wasn’t cold by any means. why did I need a blanket?
I don’t remember how long I waited. My only way of tracking time was my phone, which sat in my cubby.
Finally, a plainclothes officer, a tall Latino with a shaved head, approached me. He wore a t-shirt, jeans, and a canvas jacket over it. He offered his hand out, which was big and calloused. “Mister Carpenter? I’m Detective-Inspector Hernandez, Homicide.”
I shook his hand. “Hi, Inspector. I guess you’ve got questions?”
His rough features broke a smile. “I know this has got to be tough, finding the body like that, but I just need a few minutes.”
After the initial shock, it had pretty much been a numbness in me that had met the fact that I’d seen a dead body. How the hell do you react to that? “Of course, Inspector. Go ahead.”
“Thanks. Now, you work here at Cameron's?” He asked as he flipped open a notepad.
“Yea, I’m the senior bartender here.” That got him to look up from his notepad. “I’ve been working here three years, and I’m the only one who’s stuck around for any length of time. One or two of the guys are older than me, though they only work weekends.”
“All right…And you found the body at about one?” I nodded in reply. “Can you describe it?”
“Well, I was going out to take out the trash, and, well, bam. Opened up the dumpster, and there Mr. Francis was.”
“You knew him? We couldn’t find any ID on him. Someone had taken his wallet and phone.”
“Yea, his name was Raymond Francis, he said. He was a private investigator. He came in earlier this evening, asking about a missing persons case.”
Hernandez made me relate all of what happened. Finally, he asked. “Did he mention anything regarding vampires or anything?”
West Coast Witch Page 1
