Shawdow Detective Box Set, Vol. 2 [Books 4-6]

by Massa, William

  Groggily, I stumbled out of bed and got dressed. The naked woman remained fast asleep as I continued to stare daggers into my parasitic invader.

  “Who are you calling a parasite? You’re starting to hurt my feelings.”

  “Your feelings? Damn it, this is…you can’t…” I couldn’t find the words. If Cyon didn’t realize that what he’d done was the worst kind of violation, nothing I said now would make a difference.

  “We don’t have to be enemies, Raven.”

  “You consider taking over someone’s body an act of friendship?”

  “We don’t have to be friends, either. Just…partners.”

  “You want to work with me?”

  “The mystery of the missing skulls. Has quite a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

  I gritted my teeth as I tightened the belt around my waist, still on the lookout for my missing shoes. I located them underneath the bed and quickly slipped into my Doc Martens.

  “What upsets you more, Raven? That I gave your body what it craved, or that you weren’t invited to the party?”

  “Give it a rest,” I said as the beauty on the bed stirred and her eyes fluttered open.

  “She might be up for another round. You could stay conscious for this one, if you wanted to stick around.”

  I was already out the door of the cramped studio apartment by the time Cyon finished his sentence. As I stumbled down three flights of stairs, buttoning up my shirt as I went, I wondered how much longer I would have to deal with Cyon. It appeared the demon’s hold over me was growing stronger despite my protective Seal of Solomon. For crying out loud, he had managed to take over my body for the whole night! How long before he fully seized control? I was hit with a vision of myself being reduced to a helpless witness while Cyon wore my face like a flesh mask. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to find a way to kick out my unwanted tenant before it was too late.

  “Don’t be an uptight prude. I thought a roll in the hay could benefit us both. It was time you worked out some of those kinks.”

  “Do you ever shut up?”

  “Nothing happens unless you subconsciously want it to happen.”

  “What are you saying? I wanted you to turn my body into your own personal amusement park?”

  “You’re a man. You have needs. Archer is quite a specimen, but she’s not the only woman in the world, you know.”

  “That does it. One more word…”

  Unfazed, Cyon continued. “Life goes on, my friend. One night with a stranger won’t ruin things between you and Archer.”

  “What are you talking about? She hates my guts. I don’t think having a one-night stand with a stranger is going to change that.”

  “Well, I can’t say I blame her for feeling a bit hostile toward you. After all, you did turn her into an unholy abomination. But then you brought her back.”

  “Are you trying to be helpful or drive me insane? I honestly can’t tell.”

  “What I’m saying is, you want her, then go after her. Win her back. Woo her. Make her remember that old spark.”

  “Just do us both a favor and keep the helpful advice to yourself for a while, okay?”

  Mercifully my cell chimed, putting an end to this annoying exchange. I had hoped to make it back to the loft, check in with Skulick, freshen up a bit and load up on the best cup of joe in the whole damn city. My partner’s infamous brew could work wonders, but it wasn’t meant to be this morning. At least not yet. Judging by my latest text, my attention was required at the downtown precinct. Apparently, there had been a fourth murder.

  The autopsy room was large, cold, and clean. Stainless steel and white tile dominated the space. In my line of work, death is a constant companion. When you assist the police in supernatural murder cases, odds are you’ll have to make a trip to the morgue on occasion. Nevertheless, no matter how many times I set foot into one of these antiseptic holding chambers for the dead, I never seem to quite get used to it.

  My footsteps echoed as I made my way to the body splayed on a stainless steel slab, a grim-faced Benson on my side. The sickly smell of antiseptic cleaner nearly made me gag.

  Benson nodded at the shroud-covered corpse. “Officer Sarah Brown. Well liked, highly respected both in the community and on the force. She was bound to go places.” Benson’s voice shook with emotion, and I could tell the murdered officer had meant a lot to him. “Brown was one of the good ones.”

  The coroner was a well-fed man with cherubic cheeks and a large, rosy nose. He reminded me more of a department store Santa Claus than someone who pried secrets from murder victims. He pulled the shroud back, revealing Sarah Brown’s remains.

  I grimaced as I took in the ruined mass of features. I couldn’t imagine what she’d looked like in life. Now, she resembled a half-melted Halloween mask.

  “Which one of the virtues was it this time?” I tried to keep my voice hushed and respectful to the dead.

  “Temperance.”

  I processed this. Restraint, abstinence, moderation and deferred gratification. The opposite of gluttony. All qualities that had allowed Brown to excel in her chosen career…but that had also made her an irresistible target for the skull collector.

  I gritted my teeth, rage stirring within me. In a city filled with corruption, where indifference was almost a badge of honor, some monster was hunting the best among us. Souls dedicated to making the world a better place were made to pay the ultimate price.

  Damn Cyon. His one-night stand had cost us precious time. Skulick could have been already working on this case. Instead, we had another dead body and weren’t any closer to coming up with any answers.

  “I never told you to make a detour at the dive bar.”

  “The killer spared her partner,” Benson said. His words prevented me from getting into a mental sparring match with Cyon, and I tuned the demon out to pay attention to the detective. “He saw the whole thing. Not that his story helps me make any sense out of any of this.”

  Perhaps I would fare better than Benson. “Let me talk to him,” I said.

  Benson nodded and led me out of the morgue, but not before I took note of the multiple bite marks on the dead officer’s body. A minute later, I was sitting face to face with Brown’s partner in a small office. Officer Semele was a sweaty mess, hair sticking to his scalp in wild patches, face the color of gray marble. Shaking hands clutched a steaming cup of coffee like a life preserver.

  The officer’s thousand-yard stare was intimately familiar to me. I’d spotted it way too many times in my own reflection. When you faced down the forces of darkness and lived to tell the tale—especially when others did not—it came at a steep price. It beat the alternative, but Officer Semele, like so many others before him, would never be able to go back to his old life and fully feel safe again. He’d caught a terrifying glimpse of a far darker world. I knew it would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

  Officer Semele quickly recounted the terrifying encounter in the park. I perked up when he described the skull-faced monster’s magical axe. When he mentioned the flying death’s heads and explained how Brown’s skull had joined them after being absorbed by the axe head, I was hit by a sudden idea. I turned toward Benson.

  “Have your forensic team check the dental records of our first three victims and compare them with the bite marks on the other victims.” My request barely gave Benson pause, a grim reminder how common these nightmares had become since my arrival in the Cursed City.

  A theory was beginning to form in my mind. Somehow the killer was controlling the skulls of his past victims. It reminded me of the Soul Catcher case I had tackled a few months earlier. Engelman’s spirit had found a way to feed on the souls of his victims. Could this skull monster be doing the same with the help of his axe?

  “Your instincts appear to be sound, Raven.”

  I flinched as the demon’s voice reverberated through my mind.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” I mumbled under my breath.

  Pi
cking up on Benson’s curious stare, I realized I’d spoken the words out loud. Before the detective could ask me what I meant, three new figures entered the office. Benson looked up and his face fell. Clearly the new arrivals weren’t his favorite people.

  I observed in silence as two the black-suited men flashed their FBI badges and identified themselves. Apparently, they wanted a word with Semele. I traded a curious glance with Benson. Why were the Feds all of a sudden interested in the skull case?

  Benson indicated it was time to leave. I told Semele to hang in there and gave the man my digits in case he needed to talk with someone about what happened, knowing full well I would never hear from him again. Some people choose to confront the paranormal; others end up pretending they imagined the whole thing. My gut told me Semele belonged to the second group.

  As we filed out of the office, I took note of the attractive woman joining the two FBI agents. Our gazes met and lingered for a beat. Dark eyes, full lips, a perfect complexion framed by jet-black hair. Professional yet feminine. She wore a black power suit and carried herself with a worldly confidence. Something about her style immediately clued me in that she wasn’t American.

  I picked up a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. I’d gotten similar looks before. In certain circles, my reputation as an expert on the occult and paranormal precedes me. Some found my unusual vocation interesting, while others became immediately suspicious. The striking woman in front of me seemed to fall somewhere in between these two extremes.

  Before words could be exchanged, I was on my way out and one of the FBI agents was slamming the door shut. I shot Benson a curious look.

  “What’s going on? Why are the Feds looking into this case?”

  “They showed up as soon as the skull murders hit the news. The lady you kept staring at is Aria Giovanni, a detective from Rome. Apparently, she’s an art cop of some kind.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Art cop?”

  “I don’t know. Her people investigate stolen relics, lost paintings. Real Da Vinci Code shit.”

  I mulled this over. The presence of the art investigator from Rome added a new wrinkle to the whole case. Could the skull murders be connected to a stolen relic of some kind? I really had to talk with my partner.

  My real partner, I mentally added before Cyon could offer up his two cents. He might have valuable insight, but I couldn’t talk to him in a building full of cops.

  I left the precinct and headed for the Ducati parked across the street. Raindrops drizzled my face. Did the sun ever shine in this goddamn town? As I mounted my bike, I decided it was safe to ask Cyon some questions.

  “This skull beast sound like one of your demon buddies?”

  “Oh, am I allowed to speak now?”

  “Just answer the question, Cyon,” I growled.

  “The dimensions of fear are vast and sprawling, populated by countless creatures of darkness. The same way you don’t know every human in your world, don’t expect me to have come across every one of Hell’s many nightmares.”

  “You could have just said no,” I muttered under my breath.

  I cranked the bike’s engine and received a dirty look from an old lady passing down the sidewalk. I flashed her an apologetic smile and made a mental note to call the mechanic to see how the repairs on the Equus Bass were coming along.

  As I hurtled down the winding, rain-slick streets, my thoughts turned to the problem at hand. Cyon might not be familiar with every demon who haunted man’s imagination. Fortunately, I knew someone who was.

  8

  The warehouse loft, which served both as my home and base of operation, didn’t look like much from the outside. Inside, was a different story. Skulick practically lived behind a fortress of computers, constantly monitoring events in the Cursed City. As soon as I saw the screens, I realized Skulick was already tackling the skull murder case. I should’ve known my real partner would be on top of things.

  Skulick faced the massive bank of computer monitors as data related to the skull murders filled the collection of screens. There were images of the various victims, Father Jackson and Officer Sarah Brown among them. I couldn’t stare at the photographs of the dead without thinking about the state of their now-boneless features.

  In the wake of his battle with the vampire-demon Marek, Skulick had become more withdrawn, a shadow of his former dynamic self. Turning into a vampire had taken its toll on my mentor. I couldn’t imagine how it must have felt for him to give up his humanity only to have it returned again—along with his paralysis, which had been cured by the necrotic magic of the vampire’s blood. Fortunately, time appeared to be healing some of his psychic wounds, and more and more of the old crusty Skulick was peeking through. He wasn’t quite the force of nature who had taught me every monster hunting trick in the book, but he was getting better.

  I moved closer to my partner’s electronic command center. It never got easier seeing my formidable friend and teacher confined to a wheelchair. Skulick had lost the use of his legs less than a year ago. We had been investigating reports of a haunted hotel when the vengeful wraith struck without warning. Skulick fought bravely, but his luck battling the forces of darkness finally ran out when the spirit managed to toss him out of a window, sending him three stories to the streets below. It was a miracle that he only broke his back during the fall.

  Skulick had always enjoyed being in the thick of the action. He was forced to work behind the scenes nowadays, monitoring the world for supernatural threats while relying on his encyclopedic knowledge of the paranormal to assist me with our ongoing war with the occult.

  Skulick had been lucky, even if he didn’t always feel like it. Demon hunters didn’t die of old age. All I could hope for was to inflict as much damage as possible before my number came up.

  Skulick tilted his head toward me, unaware of my somber thoughts. “How was your night?”

  “Restless ghosts, a killer who likes to collect skulls, a little vampire action-”

  “And a wild romp in the sheets with a rock ‘n’ roll goddess.”

  I bit my lip, and Skulick stared at me questioningly, picking up on the anger and irritation that must’ve flickered over my face. Cyon wisely kept his silence. The demon was cunning. He clearly didn’t want my partner to realize that a third roommate had found a home under our roof.

  “Vampires? Sounds like you bumped into an old friend of yours.”

  “And old friend who now kills vampires with the Witch Whip. I thought we kept that bad boy under lock and key for special occasions.”

  Skulick shrugged. “You were busy breaking into the devil’s bank, and I thought she could use a weapon. Or two.”

  I inhaled sharply and shot Skulick an exasperated look. “Are you encouraging her?”

  “She isn’t going to quit. Might as well give her a fighting chance, wouldn’t you say?”

  Skulick had a point. “You could’ve told me.”

  “I knew how you’d react. And it appears I was right.”

  I mulled this over. He was making sense—as usual.

  “Besides, we can use an ally. Archer has proven to be a force to be reckoned with. Vampire attacks are on a sharp decline.”

  That was true. Didn’t mean I felt any better about my former flame becoming the Cursed City’s version of Buffy. She could handle herself—that much was obvious from the fight last night. But part of me would always want to protect her, always wish that things had turned out differently. Jane Archer had been a good cop and a good friend. She’d never get to be a cop again, but maybe we could find our way back to being friends someday.

  Some of what I was feeling must have shown on my face. I could feel my partner’s gaze boring into me. Skulick could read me as easily as any of his dusty old tomes.

  “I always told you that mixing work and romance was a bad idea.”

  “Not to mention turning your lover into a bloodthirsty vampire.”

  I did my best to block out Cyon’s taunting. Eager to change the sub
ject, I pointed at the crime scene pictures of the skull case. News footage showed the church and the park where the bodies of the last two victims were discovered.

  “I see Benson has been in touch with you. What do you think of this latest craziness?”

  “I have some theories.”

  I smiled. I could always count on my mentor. “Alright, blow my mind.”

  Skulick grinned and his eyes sparkled, completely in his element. This was the monster hunter who had taken me under his wing so many years ago and turned me into the man I was today.

  “Familiar with the medieval myth of the Skull Master?” Skulick asked.

  “Isn’t he the purple fella who fought He-Man?”

  Skulick pretended not to find my jokes remotely funny, but his lips curled upward slightly.

  “Not a clue,” I admitted. My knowledge of the paranormal kept growing with each passing day, but my partner still had me beat when it came to obscure occult trivia. He tapped a key, and a digital image of a medieval painting appeared. It showed a muscular, bare-chested man decked out in a pointy black hood and leather arm braces. Instead of human features, a skull peered from beneath the hood. The figure wielded a giant, terrifying executioner’s axe.

  Maybe I hadn’t been that far off after all.

  More medieval paintings flashed onscreen, showcasing the nightmarish, bone-faced executioner.

  “He is sometimes referred to as the Devil’s Executioner too. As the story goes, an executioner in Medieval England started to enjoy his work too much. Growing hungry for more killing while fearing his own mortality, he turned towards the dark side and made a pact with a demon. He would bring his new master the heads of the good and just in exchange for a chance at immortality.

  Skulick zoomed in on the Skull Master’s axe. Even in the paintings, I could see that the axe was adorned with various glyphs and supernatural symbols. A weapon blessed by the Lords of Darkness themselves. I tried to picture facing this monstrous, axe-wielding executioner in combat and hoped it would never come to that.