Prom Knight

by Ben Reeder

  We pulled up next to a tan brick building that had seen better decades back before electricity was all the rage. All of the windows and doors were gone, most likely to join the absent roof. The stench of dead things hit my nose when I opened the door, but the silence was what sent the chill down my spine. Hanson handed us both shoe covers and gloves, and I pulled my hair back and put it in a thick tail. Lucas’s hair wasn’t quite long enough to pull back, so he tucked it up under a ball cap before he put his gloves on and we headed for the forensics team gathered at the back of their van.

  Dr. Corwin and Detective Collins were talking to a tall, dark haired woman in coveralls who stood with her back to us, his face set in an expression that I found very familiar. It was the look he got when I insisted on doing something he thought was, in his words, ill advised. Which seemed like was most of the time.

  “I don’t care if they came in with the clean-up team, I’m sure they screwed up my DNA evidence,” the woman was saying as we came within earshot. “Even if I know they didn’t show up until after we released the scene, what I ended up with was a jumbled-up mess. The only saving grace here was that this wasn’t going to trial. But when I use words like inconclusive too often, Corwin, do you know what my bosses hear?”

  “Incompetent?” Dr. Corwin asked.

  “No, they hear incompet-… I mean, yes, that’s exactly what they’re seeing and hearing. This city is already hard enough on forensics chiefs. I do not need a bunch of adolescent interns making things any harder for me. So, yes, I am going to supervise this scene from start to finish and that includes your interns and the cleaning crew. Who knows, they might actually learn something for a change!”

  Dr. C looked at us over her shoulder and smiled. She turned to see us, then let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Last time,” Lucas said enthusiastically, “we learned how to be ninjas!”

  “All right, you two,” the woman said, narrowing her dark eyes. “I’m Dr. Chambliss, chief of forensics for the Sheriff’s department. I’ll be supervising while you’re working with the clean-up crew at our crime scenes.”

  “Did we do something wrong?” I asked.

  “Something screwed up the samples we collected at the Moretti scene. For now, consider this an attempt to rule you out as the problem.”

  “Ah, the benefit of the doubt,” Lucas said. “How refreshing.”

  “Can the attitude. Which one are you?”

  “Kale. Lucas Kale,” he said in his best James Bond imitation. At least, I thought it was James Bond.

  “So, you must be Fortunato.”

  “Most days.”

  “Well, I don’t care if you are at a scene that has been released, I don’t think you belong here.”

  “I think they do,” Collins finally said. “Look, Chambliss, you released the crime scene. Your techs are gone. Far as I’m concerned, your job is done here. Lay off the kids. This ain’t about them, and you know it.”

  “Do I have to make it official, Collins?” Chambliss asked.

  “No one’s around to hear you,” Collins said. “You can still keep this on the DL. But let’s at least get this shit on the table. Your problem ain’t with these kids, it’s with me.”

  “Damn straight it’s with you, Collins,” Chambliss stepped closer to him and put her finger in the middle of his chest. “Because every time I get DNA I can’t identify, or a body with unusual characteristics, it’s from one of your cases. And don’t think IA hasn’t noticed. Someone comes asking around every time something funny turns up in one of my reports. I’d bet they have a file on you thick enough to choke a horse.”

  “If they do, no one’s said ‘Boo’ to me,” Collins said. “You got a problem with me, Chambliss, you keep it between you and me. Don’t go jumping on a couple of kids.”

  “You want to keep it between us, Detective, fine,” Chambliss growled. “We’ll keep it between us. But if anything about this case comes up the slightest bit off, I swear I will bring IA down on you like a ton of bricks. Are we clear on that?”

  “Crystal,” Collins said. “Now step off. These kids have work to do.”

  Chambliss stalked off, but I could hear her muttering under her breath. As she crossed the dirt road, a familiar panel van drove up and stopped on the far side. The side read “Clean Scene” with a mop bucket behind police tape painted below it. Chambliss stalked toward it and stopped when the driver got out. The woman who stepped down from the van was taller than Chambliss, with auburn hair tucked into a ponytail and wearing a pair of blue coveralls. They talked for a few seconds, then Chambliss stalked off, and the woman in the coveralls crossed the road and stopped next to us.

  “Trevor,” she said, “Am I going to regret letting you talk me into this whole intern thing?”

  “No,” Dr. C and Collins said in stereo.

  “Her problem ain’t with you, MacBride,” Collins said.

  “Maybe not, but I have no desire to catch any collateral damage from the shrapnel, you know?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Collins said. “You just take care of the scene, I’ll handle Chambliss.”

  “Are you two my unpaid slave labor…I mean, interns?” MacBride asked with a grin.

  “No. ma’am,” Lucas said. “We’re not slaves. We’re indentured.”

  “Well, I see you have the smart side down. I’m Blessing MacBride. I own Clean Scene. Today, because my chief tech is out sick, your butts are mine for the next three hours. Follow me, and we’ll see if you’re smart or just smart-asses.” She led us through a taped off path to the door of the dilapidated building and stopped as the coroner and an assistant pushed a gurney out with a body bag strapped to it.

  While the coroner pushed the gurney by, I shifted my vision and cracked my Third Eye. The girl’s aura was gone, but more importantly, only a little lingering psychic energy floated around her. Death was traumatic, and it generated a metric ton of free floating energy wherever it happened. People in general don’t like dying, so they’ll fight hard to keep from doing it. That tends to leave a mess in more ways than one. I looked at the building and didn’t see any residuals in there. Wherever she had died, it wasn’t here.

  Beside me, Lucas was making a choked sound, and his face was turning a delicate shade of green as the smell of copper and death hit our noses. “Oh, God,” he choked out, then turned and ran for the edge of the yellow tape. To his credit, he made it before he heaved up his breakfast.

  “Do you need to go throw up, too?” MacBride asked. “There’s no shame in it. Most rookies toss it at their first murder scene.”

  “No, ma’am,” I said, looking back at poor Lucas as he wiped his mouth. This was far from the worst thing I’d ever seen. Lucas staggered back our way and joined us at the door.

  “Sorry about that, Miss MacBride,” he said.

  “Don’t be,” she said, and I almost bought that she meant it. “Every forensics tech and rookie cop has their first moment. The trick is to keep your wits about you. So, let’s go on and take a look at the scene.” She led us into the building, and if the outside was barren, the inside was just as stark. The only details were the markings on the walls, symbols and images done in thick, crude lines across the walls and floor. Fat black candles were set around a taped outline on the floor. I raked the room with my eyes, and nothing seemed to fit together.

  “Can we go into the room?” Lucas asked.

  “Yes, but be careful where you step. I want to go over it while it’s still almost intact to make sure nothing was missed. If you see anything even remotely out of the ordinary, tell me.” MacBride watched as he made his way inside and looked around, moving around the outside of the circle before stepping in and kneeling next to the body outline.

  “So, boys,” she said after a couple of minutes. “What are your impressions of the scene?”

  “We’ve got a lot of work to do,” I said. “And I have some questions.”

  “So do I,” Lucas said.

  “Ask him,”
MacBride said, pointing to Collins.

  “You get three,” Collins said. “We’ll start with you, Chance.”

  “Were the girl’s ankles bruised? Like her feet had been bound?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “Lucas?”

  “I see a lot of little numbers on the floor. Does one of them belong to a knife with a serrated edge?”

  “No. Fortunato?”

  “Were the candles still burning when you found the scene?”

  “Yes. Lucas?”

  “I’m good. Chance?”

  “Do we know time of death?”

  “Best estimate is at least fourteen hours ago. Beyond that, we’ll have to wait for the coroner’s report. Your turn, Lucas.”

  “I’m still good,” he said.

  “Only going with one. Interesting. Okay, what’s your impression?”

  “There’s probably another crime scene,” Lucas said. “I don’t think she died here. No blood spatter, not enough blood on the floor, and nothing to hold her up over the floor while the blood drained. That should have caused some spray, but the only blood I see is right here.” He pointed to the small brown puddle near him. “That would be my first impression.”

  “Okay. Fortunato?” she asked.

  “I’d say the same thing, for a different reason. If she really was killed for a ritual, this isn’t the ritual space,” I told her, pointing to the symbols. “For one thing, these aren’t real symbols. They just look funky. They’re not precise, and there’s no… sense to them, no pattern or consistency. Second, these candles. It smells like at least one of them is scented. And, judging by the amount of wax, they didn’t burn for more than four or five hours.”

  “And do you think she was killed for a ritual?”

  “The scene is very ritualistic, and there is no blood here. Seems like too much trouble to go to for no reason. So, I wouldn’t rule it out, no.”

  “Interesting observations,” MacBride said. “Now, I’m going to clean this scene up, and you two to get to help. At this point, you’re glorified, unpaid labor. You carry gear, you scrub, rinse or scrape where I tell you, and you do whatever else I say when I say it. Got it?” We nodded. “Okay then. Let’s get to work.”

  We spent the first half hour following her around the scene as she inspected it. When she had covered every square inch of the scene, she led us to her truck and had us unload her cleaning supplies. From there, we spent the next hour or so with a sponge, brush or scraper in hand, removing any sign that a crime might have taken place there. Finally, she straightened up and ordered us to load her van back up. After we put the last bucket into the back, Dr. Corwin called us over.

  “They don’t sound very enthusiastic about this one,” he said while we pulled our gloves off. “I think we’re going to have to come back tonight and do a divination using the energy traces that are left.”

  “That’s something I can pull off,” Lucas said.

  “If you feel comfortable coming back and doing it,” Dr. C said after a moment’s thought.

  “Yeah, definitely. I just want to pull my own weight, you know?”

  “You always do,” Dr. C said. “But for now, you both still have classes to go back to. And I expect you to make sure you take care of any homework for the classes you missed today.” We both grumbled something that sounded like a yes and headed for our cars.

  During the trip back to school, I let my mind go back to the girl from the crime scene. She had a name, but I didn’t know it. A life. Friends. Family who would miss her and grieve for her loss. Dreams she’d never get to even try to shoot for. My hands tightened on the steering wheel, and I blinked back tears. The rumble of the Mustang sounded like the sound my soul would have made just then, a low growl of barely contained rage. One of the laws of magick was to never use it to kill, but in that moment, I was tempted to go rogue. I knew several spells that would kill from a distance, and a few of them took several agonizing days to work. In my rearview mirror, I could see Lucas’s face through his windshield, his shoulders shaking as let his own feelings out. His cheeks were glistening, and his expression was dark, both hands clenched on his steering wheel. What we’d seen had been played out at least thirty times or more in different ways, and if anyone was able to understand that the same way I did, it was Lucas.

  Whoever was doing this had just earned two determined opponents. Sure, we were seventeen-year-old kids, but we also seventeen-year-old kids who had killed more evil shit between us than some Sentinels. And if I also saw myself as an avenging force for thirty some odd dead girls, I at least knew I was, at best, a black knight with tarnished armor. The thought was cold comfort, but it was the only thing I had.

  We pulled into the lot at Kennedy, and Lucas came over to my car, his cheeks and eyes red. “I don’t know about you,” he said with a tight voice, “but I intend to make this is the last girl who dies because of this.”

  “At the risk of going all knight in shining armor on you, so do I,” I said.

  “Not so shining,” he said. “Not us. We’re not that pure. But yeah, I’m saying ‘No more’ here.”

  “Right there with you, brother,” I said. “No more.”

  Chapter 5

  ~ Make no pact with Infernal Powers ~ Third Law of Magick

  “You have the basics down for air ley lines,” Dr. Corwin said. His footsteps were soft on the floorboards behind me as he paced around the outside of the working circle in his attic. A pale red circle shimmered in the air between us, maintained by my own will. The runes to cast it were suspended in the air before me, and I was concentrating on forming them into a mental lattice. “Since summer starts in a couple of months, we’re going to lay the groundwork for fire lines now. Fire lines tend to run east-west, or along the south side of ridges and mountains. Any place where the sun casts its warmth for extended periods of time.”

  “I’m good with fire,” I said. “But there’s one thing I don’t get. Why are we doing this instead of questioning contestant number five?”

  “Because the driver lost Collins last night. Vortigern convinced me that the best way to smoke the driver out was to let Mr. Black escape.”

  The construct in my head burst, the runes shattered into thin air and the circle around me dissolved. “He convinced you to what?” I demanded.

  “I let him talk me into looking the other way at the right time, and he advises his client not to do something he very much wants to do. We figured the first thing he’s going to do is head for the driver. Now, focus. You almost had the fire line circle memorized. Try again.”

  “Fine,” I grumbled. The red circle almost snapped into place, and the glowing runes arranged themselves in the air before me as I made the passes with my hands that laid the focusing matrix for the spell itself. My hand movements were quick and hard, the passes ending with abrupt stops. The last rune slammed into place, and I reached out with my left hand and twisted my wrist to seal the spell with a little more force than was absolutely required. I did a double take as the matrix remained in place, glowing brighter and clearer than the last five failed attempts.

  “Perfect!” Dr. C said. “Fire is all about passion. Anger, lust, love, aggression, any strong, forceful emotion.”

  “Isn’t that kind of Dark Side?” Lucas asked from the workbench off to my right.

  “Does electricity have a Dark Side?” Dr. C asked.

  “No,” Lucas said. “But electricity isn’t linked to emotion.”

  “What about when it’s used for capital punishment? Is the electricity dark or light?”

  “It’s still electricity. It’s just… energy.”

  “And so is magick. Darkness and light, good and evil… those don’t come from the magick itself. They come from the mage. Assigning motive to energy is, at best, an incorrect assumption. At worst, it’s a cop out, like saying the Devil made you do it. If there is darkness to be found, whether it’s magick or the Force, you’re going to find it in the heart of the person wielding it, not the e
nergy they’re using.”

  “So, hate,” I offered. “Rage, fear, those are part of my darkness.”

  “No, Chance,” Dr. C said with a quick shake of his head. “You have a lot of anger, but you have a lot to be angry about. But, it never truly controls you. It influences you, but you’ve never let it sway you to do anything that was outright evil.”

  “Not even what I did to Talbot for killing Desiree?”

  “No,” he said, his voice soft. “That was harsh, and cruel, but…I can’t argue that it was more than he deserved. He used magick to kill. You would have been within your rights to kill him for that. You punished him, and it was a hard punishment, but it wasn’t evil. You aren’t evil. Neither is anger or aggression. Those are feelings. It’s what you do that makes you good or bad. Now, drop the circle and we’ll try it as a-” he stopped as his cell phone rang.

  I dropped the circle while he talked on the phone, but I stayed inside its bounds. Likewise, Lucas stood and waited, but he stayed quiet, which for Lucas saying something. Finally, he finished up and put his phone away.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, his voice taking the formal tones of ritual. We stood a little straighter. “Well done, today. Both of you. Training is done. Return to the world of men and carry this knowledge with you. You are its guardians now.”

  “We will use it well,” we said in unison. Dr. C gave us his usual smile and bowed.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said. Lucas repeated it a heartbeat after. It wasn’t part of the ritual, but Dr. Corwin didn’t seem to mind.

  “You’re welcome, boys,” Dr. C said. “That was Collins. Our boy got out, and he went straight to an old, abandoned motel out on Highway 71. Chance, we’re going to go see what he’s up to. Lucas, go take care of your divination. We’ll meet here by nine.” We all headed for the single stairway that led to the rest of the house.