“Thanks, Joe,” she said after she’d finished her coffee.
“Do you want to talk?” he asked.
She nodded. There was a reason why Jennifer was here with him now. She knew that no matter how strange her story, the people at the Nexus Foundation wouldn’t laugh at her. Cormac listened to her tale in grave silence. Jennifer told him about her father and the dark family stories surrounding his activities, told him about her inheritance and the terrible encounter at the cemetery. When she described the alabaster-skinned stranger who attacked her and her friend, Cormac’s first thought was that she’d run into a ghost, but Jennifer vehemently shook her head.
“He wasn’t a ghost. He was solid, real. My friend could see him too…”
Her words trailed off, her features growing slack with loss.
Cormac considered his options. A part of him debated whether he should give Dr. Adira Austen a ring. She had already left Nexus for the day, but he was certain she would pick up an after-hours call from her star psychic. Knowing Dr. Austen, she would be all too eager to investigate the cemetery, but Cormac didn’t think it would be wise. They could deal with spirits, but there were other forms of evil that roamed the world for human prey. Demons, vampires, shifters, monsters of myth and magic. There was only one man who might know with any certainty what they were up against. He hadn’t seen the man in months, not since their battle back at Blackmore Penitentiary, but Cormac still had his card.
He traded a long look with Jennifer, his heart hurting to see her so scared and traumatized. Her expression made what he did next much easier. He picked up his cell and called Mike Raven.
5
Fading sunlight dappled the room I was staying in. It was almost five o’clock, the shadows lengthening outside the grimy motel. I couldn’t believe I had spent the whole day asleep. Obviously my body preferred the feel of a ratty bed over the cramped leather upholstery of my car and had welcomed the break. Truth be told, I felt better than I had in days. Next, I would find some coffee and figure out my next move.
And that’s when my cell rang. I eyed the incoming number on my phone with still bleary eyes, unable to place the digits. My guard must have been down because I answered the call.
“Hello?” I asked warily.
“Hi there. Could I speak to Mike Raven, please?”
Maybe I hadn’t recognized the number but I immediately placed the voice. It was Joe Cormac, the former soldier turned psychic. I hadn’t heard or spoken to the man since our battle with the Soul Catcher at Blackmore Penitentiary. At the time, I’d been plagued by bigger concerns. Archer’s life had hung in the balance. Nevertheless, I had not forgotten the vital role he’d played during our final confrontation with the supernatural killer. I had always planned to get in touch, but life has a way of getting away from you. Life—and demonic possession, armies of the undead, and treacherous billionaires. It’s been a busy couple of months.
So why was Cormac calling me now? Had Skulick set him up? Could it be a trap?
I decided to hear him out. For now. I owed him that much.
“Hi Joe, how have you been?”
“When you can see the dead, life never gets boring.” Cormac’s words were meant to be flippant but I picked up the stress in his voice. After some quick small talk, he cut to the chase and told me about Jennifer and her terrible ordeal at the cemetery.
“Is she still with you right now?” I asked.
“I’m not letting her out my sight.” Judging by the protective tone in his voice, I was getting a feeling that Jennifer might not merely be a casual acquaintance.
“Good. I’ll be right over.”
The urgency and concern in Cormac’s voice was real. This wasn’t some master chess move courtesy of my former partner. Cormac needed my help.
Less than ten minutes later, I was in my car, guzzling some coffee I had snagged from the motel’s downstairs lobby. The brew tasted like lukewarm motor oil and reminded me how much I missed Skulick’s coffee. Hell, forget the coffee, I missed the man himself. Missed my old life.
Before I started the car, I made sure to slip a leather glove over my monster hand. No reason to freak Cormac out. The way things stood, the psychic might be the last friend I had left.
6
As far back as Jane Archer could remember, she had always been driven by a strong desire to make the world a better place. Her dad had been a cop, and he’d instilled in her the duty to help those in need. Naturally, she had followed in his footsteps. Her passion, smarts and skills had allowed her to quickly rise through the law enforcement ranks. If her dad had still been around, he would have been proud to see his little girl sporting a detective badge.
She very much doubted he would have felt that same sense of pride now. Her transformation into a vampire, however brief, remained a blight on her soul. Even though she avoided watching the video of herself murdering a cop, the memories of the experience haunted her. Every night when she laid down to sleep, the horrific scene played out in her mind’s eye in graphic detail no camera could ever capture.
She could see the officer’s terror, smell his fear, hear his racing heartbeat, and taste his warm, coppery blood. She had murdered a fellow officer, had fed on him. He’d been a good man with a family. It was a sin she would have to live with for the rest of her days. Darkness marked her now, stained her soul, and there was only one path toward redemption. She would dedicate her life to hunting creatures of the night to make sure no one else would ever have to face a similar fate.
The same qualities that had made her an excellent cop were helping Archer now. She was winning the war against the bloodsuckers. In fact, she had lost count how many of the beasts had fallen prey to her stakes and crossbows, not to mention the most recent addition to her arsenal, the Witch Whip and Bloodslayer. Her mystical weapons were developing a taste for black blood.
She owed Raven’s partner much of her success against the vamps. Skulick had not only equipped her with mystical weapons but had also been feeding her intel, making her nightly hunts more effective. So when she saw his number pop up on her phone, she didn’t hesitate to take the call. A part of her secretly hoped to hear Raven’s voice on the other end, but instead the wheelchair-bound monster hunter greeted her.
“Archer, I need to see you. Tonight.”
There was an urgency in Skulick’s voice that gave her pause. Something was wrong. “I’ll be there in half an hour,” she promised and immediately made her way toward her fiery red motorcycle, a Kawasaki Ninja. Vampire activity appeared to be at an all-time low, but she still felt compelled to bring a few weapons along. Better to be prepared than be caught off guard by the enemy. The vamps would eventually start coming after her. Apex predators didn’t take kindly to being turned into prey.
As she cut through the city on her bike, her thoughts turned to Raven. Initially she’d been skeptical of the bearded, trench-coat-wearing occult detective, but she had quickly grown to respect him and even depend on his help. As more paranormal cases piled up, they’d become fierce allies and even unofficial partners. Then they’d given into their feelings and shared a night of passion, and everything changed. Raven was the one who’d backed away from her. She had hated him for his cowardice at the time, but now that she hunted nightmares herself, she understood. In his own way, Raven had tried to protect her. It had spectacularly backfired, but she couldn’t really blame him for that. This war took few prisoners, and in the end, he had saved her in the only way he knew how.
When Archer had first begun her private war against the darkness, she thought she would never have a normal life again. She still believed that. A regular existence was out of the question…but perhaps she could find love again. Nowadays she operated in same world as Raven did, and she found her thoughts turning to him often.
Would Raven be at the loft this evening? A part of her hoped so. Timing was everything when it came to relationships, and hers had sucked even before she’d become a vigilante. Maybe this would be her c
hance.
She pulled up to the warehouse loft and took note of the security cams trained on her. A beat later, the steel gate rumbled open and she pulled into the underground garage. He heart sank when she didn’t see Raven’s Equus Bass in the parking space. That man loved the muscle car more than anything else in this world, and if it wasn’t here, then neither was he.
She killed her engine and headed for the elevators. After having been here a few times, she knew the drill. Still, the place had a way of creeping her out. It felt more like a fortress with Skulick as its watchful overlord than a home.
Emerging from the elevator, she passed rows of bookshelves sagging under the weight of Skulick’s vast occult library. The tomes radiated a dark power and she instinctively quickened her pace. Why did Skulick want to see her? Was he hoping to arm her with some new weapons? Or had he discovered some new terrible plot by the vampires that needed to be foiled? The width and depth of the man’s esoteric knowledge was the product of a lifetime of hunting shadows across the globe and continued to astound her, but he was remarkably taciturn on the phone. He could have at least given her a hint of what this was about.
Raven had never scared or intimidated her, Skulick had from the start. Even now that he was in a wheelchair, he managed to project a commanding aura. He was a guardian of secrets. Like herself, he had tasted the black blood of the master vampire, had experienced the ravenous call of the blood hunt. They had both been to Hell and back, but somehow Archer doubted nightmares kept Skulick up at night. Then again, if Raven was to be believed, perhaps the man never slept.
As she drew closer, Skulick’s wheelchair spun away from the bank of monitors that was his command center in his war against the darkness. The man facing her looked like he’d aged ten years since she’d last seen him.
She must’ve done a poor job hiding her shock because Skulick flashed her a weary a grin. “Been a rough couple of weeks,” he explained. No kidding, she thought. Skulick had lost weight since their last meeting, his face ashen and sunken, and his hair had turned grayer. Or perhaps that was a trick of the light? Had to be. One thing was for certain—something was terribly wrong with the monster hunter.
A wave of anxiety tightened Archer’s stomach and she suddenly craved a drink. Almost as if he had read her thoughts, Skulick poured a shot of Maker’s Mark and offered her the booze, certain she wouldn’t refuse it. He was right, of course. She caught a faint whiff of alcohol on his breath and this, more than anything, intensified her own sense of dread. Skulick had always struck her as part samurai, part monk. The idea that he had been sitting here, drinking alone, unnerved her. What could spook a man who had battled nightmares for nearly three decades? Suddenly she wasn’t so sure she wanted to find out.
The alcohol sizzled down her throat but failed to calm her frazzled nerves.
“You’ve got bad news,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
Skulick nodded, the grave expression remaining frozen on his face. “It’s about Raven.”
He’s dead. That was the only explanation she could think of. She had always been aware of the risks that came with his line of work, but now she lived with those same risks herself.
“How did it happen?” she asked.
Skulick shook his head. “He’s not dead, my dear. It’s far worse than that.”
What could be worse than being dead? Archer drained the rest of her drink, praying that it would steady her. Impatience bubbled up. Why was the monster hunter drawing this out? Spit it out already, goddammit. Don’t keep me in suspense!
Her eyes bored into Skulick’s and she paused. Were those tears in the man’s eyes? This time she really hoped the light was deceiving her.
“I need your help, Miss Archer,” Skulick finally said. “I need you to help me bring in Raven.”
7
This was going to be my first visit to the Nexus Foundation. I’d heard many rumors about the place, knew how they hoped to apply a scientific approach to the paranormal, but my interactions with their staff had been limited. One look at the facilities told me the place had attracted some investors with steep pockets. Some might call them suckers, but money doesn’t buy you immortality. Whoever was bankrolling the place clearly wanted to know what might be waiting for him or her on the other side. Man had always dreamed of conquering death; understanding this great mystery probably sounded like the next best thing.
I liked the idea of Cormac reaching out to other gifted individuals, as he had explained on the phone. He had seemed a little lost and in over his head when I first met him. The Cormac greeting me at the building’s front entrance carried himself with a new confidence and seemed a lot more comfortable in his own skin. Good for him.
Judging by the barely disguised shock at my appearance, the same couldn’t be said about me. I had caught a quick glimpse at my reflection before I got out of the car, and the deep circles under my eyes confirmed that being on the run didn’t agree with me. A single night of good sleep couldn’t make up for the last three weeks. It would probably require an extended stay in Hawaii or some other tropical paradise to whip me back into shape. I shook Cormac’s hand, making sure to use my human hand.
“Thank you for coming so quickly, Raven. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.” Cormac’s warm, good-natured smile reminded me why I had instantly taken a liking to him the last time our paths had crossed.
“You look good, Cormac. I think this group is the right move.”
“It’s rewarding to feel like I’m helping.”
Cormac nodded at me to follow him. He led me into the conference room, where a nervous woman was pacing back and forth. This had to be the friend Cormac had mentioned over the phone. I offered Jennifer my most reassuring smile, which unfortunately did little to calm her down.
As she recounted what had happened at the cemetery, I did my best not to betray any emotion, but her description of her attacker immediately set off alarm bells. I didn’t need to consult with Skulick to know what type of monster we were up against this time around. The hairless body covered in soil, the luminescent skin, the malformed features and razor-sharp teeth: the young woman and her friend had fallen prey to a ghoul.
When she was done talking, Cormac pulled me aside. “What do you make of her story? Jennifer has a sensitivity to psychic impressions, but she can’t see ghosts the way I do.”
“I don’t think she was attacked by a ghost,” I said.
Cormac’s brows ticked upward. “That’s what I thought, too. So what was—”
“You don’t have to whisper behind my back.” Jennifer said, her voice sounding stronger than I expected. The woman I first encountered in the conference room had been terrified and traumatized by her earlier experience. But below her fear, there was a touch of steel. This lady was a fighter, and I decided she deserved it straight. “I believe you were attacked by a ghoul.”
The word sounded strange rolling off my tongue. I had faced many a monster over the years—and I had the scars to prove it. Ghouls hadn’t been among them, but I had heard stories from Skulick. I felt like I was channeling my mentor as I spoke.
“Ghouls are lower-level demons. They dwell mostly in burial grounds and feed off the flesh of the dead.”
I flinched, regretting my choice of words. After all, her father was buried in the cemetery where she’d been attacked. More than likely…well, let’s just say her father probably wasn’t resting in peace.
Judging by the dark look in Jennifer’s eyes, she had put two and two together. Yet she pressed on. She was a tough spirit. “So why did this ghoul attack my friend?”
Good question. It had been the one part of Jennifer’s story that had initially given me pause. A ghoul had to be starving to venture to the surface and attack the living. They fed on corpses. Don’t ask me why; Skulick had always speculated that it had something to do with a demonic curse. All I knew was that they generally preferred a fresh corpse over one that had been in the ground for a while, rotting away. Just thinkin
g about it made me glad that I’d skipped dinner. The idea of some monster making a lunch out of a dead body…well, my disgust had to be plain to see on my face. The flicker of strength dimmed in Jennifer’s eyes. I was doing a piss-poor job here. Even Cormac frowned at me.
Why had the ghoul gone after Jennifer and her hapless friend? It didn’t matter in the end. All I knew for certain was that I planned on stopping the beast. I squared my shoulders, trying to look heroic instead of crazy, and said, “The fiend won’t hurt anyone again.”
“You’re going back to cemetery,” Jennifer realized.
“Raven does this sort of thing for a living,” Cormac said in his most reassuring voice possible.
Well, no one was paying me to battle demons but why correct the psychic. I’d been lucky enough to inherit enough money from my dad as to never have to worry about a day job again. The idea of having to balance a nine-to-five while chasing demons at night, well, my life was complicated enough. Thank God, my inheritance allowed Skulick and I to fully commit ourselves to the mission.
Jennifer still regarded me skeptically. “Have you killed ghouls before?”
“Yes,” I lied, unwilling to shatter whatever little confidence she might still have in me.
“Don’t worry, Jennifer. We’ll take care of this,” Cormac said. “I called Raven because he’s the best.”
I had to tip my hat to Cormac. He had me halfway convinced that I was a superhero. And then it hit me: He likes her. Cormac wanted to reassure Jennifer, to tell her everything would be okay. I prayed it would be, but this job can turn the most positive person into a hardcore pessimist.
There were elements of Jennifer’s story that I was still struggling to wrap my head around. If she was to be believed, her father had actively dabbled in the occult. What had her dad, a supposed cult leader, been doing running a two-bit funeral home and rundown cemetery? Was her father aware of the ghoul or had the creature moved into the cemetery after he passed away? Could the ghoul be somehow connected to the cult or her father’s death? Why were there no names on the grave markers? And why had they lit up right before the ghoul attacked? All good questions that Jennifer couldn’t—or wouldn’t—answer.
Shawdow Detective Box Set, Vol. 2 [Books 4-6] Page 27
