Doomed Cases Series (1-3) Demonic Triangle Diabolical Quest Infernal Initiation

by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

Paul stopped polishing the glasses and looked at me.

  “Maxine, you have to go there now. The dead demon has something to do with your case,” he stated.

  I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant, but then I changed my mind. Paul didn’t need to tell me twice; he just knew, like the other Watchers and demons in the city. I had known him long enough to trust him. The two female demons looked at me then to Paul, but I didn’t have time to explain anything to them.

  Outside it was raining again. Harsh cold drops of rain beat over my leather jacket as I ran to the tube station. I spent a good forty minutes getting from Brixton to King’s Cross. No one had to tell me where the police had found the body; the torn emotions, the sadness were sending me all the way to the canals. There was a gate to the underworld somewhere in that area, but only certain demons were able to use it. Sometimes my kind just knew. If a demon or mongrel died, everyone around the area felt it instantly. This didn’t happened often.

  By the time I found the crime scene, the edge of the canals was filled with police, and a crowd of people stood behind the yellow tape, probably trying to get a glimpse of the dead body or blood. There were reporters there too, so the word must have gotten out quickly.

  I walked up to the older officer that stood on the other side of the yellow tape.

  “Let me in. I’m on the case here with Detective Zachary Quinton,” I said, hoping that somehow that could guarantee me a pass. He narrowed his eyes at me, and checked me out pretty much from my head to toe.

  “Let her through, Gordon. She might be helpful,” the voice behind me stated, sending chills down my spine. I turned around and abruptly faced Zach, who managed to sneak behind me undetected. That could only mean one thing: I was connecting to his emotions too comfortably.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I wept not, so to stone within I grew.” ― Dante Alighieri

  Someone took my picture when I was passing through the yellow tape. There was a couple more camera flashes as I started walking along a canal with Zach. He was calm, but slightly apprehensive that I showed up without a warning. The body was lying several meters down, just by the cycling path. The forensic technicians were using black lights and ethanol to check the space for DNA. Most of the time demons died in hell, and I was surprised that Watchers hadn’t found this poor demon first.

  “How did you know to come here tonight, Flower?” Zach asked, when we stopped on the edge and he turned to look at me.

  “Some women came into the bar blabbing about it, and I had a feeling that I had to be here … you know, kind of like a sixth sense,” I told him, forcing out a smile. The man next to me was aware of my Achilles heel—tequila and Prince bloody Charming. Last night was a blast, and I had way too much fun with him. It was time to get on with my task.

  He grabbed my arm and stopped me from going down to see the corpse. Her energy was circulating around the place, shooting goose pimples alongside my neck. There were a lot of other cops walking around. I spotted two guys I guessed were runners, judging by their outfits, by the police car, probably giving their statements. The mist began drifting around the space, as I blocked the fear, the anger and sadness. The crowds weakened my abilities, and I didn’t want to be here when the Watchers showed up.

  “I don’t believe that you came here because you heard about it in the pub,” he snapped back as the heat shot down between my breasts, heading south. “I heard that you were looking for me today?”

  I held his dark gaze, trying to convince myself of the fact that his touch being comforting to me meant nothing at all. My breath caught in my throat as lust increased my breathing rate, tingling the places that were supposed to be immune to any attention. Maybe he was right. I shouldn’t have come. I would’ve saved myself a lot of hassle.

  “Well, I needed to speak to you about last night, but the guy at the front desk at the station wasn’t very helpful.”

  His grip tightened and his eyes narrowed.

  “How did you do that last night?” he asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Outplay me only to lose all your cash. I never lose, Maxine, and I think you cheated just so you could stay on this case with me,” he told me, pulling me closer to him. Crap, what was with this guy and him enjoying manhandling me like this? I kicked his arse once, and I was ready to do it again.

  “Stop being such a sore loser, Zachary, and get the hell away from me,” I hissed, angry that I was suddenly feeling all these strange and wonderful sensations. “I can easily embarrass you in front of all your colleagues, and trust me, you don’t want that.”

  He smirked and looked down admiring the other revealed parts of my body. Okay this was wrong, but he made me a little wetter in certain departments.

  “I care about my reputation, Maxine, and I don’t want to hurt you. Now let’s get on with business,” he said, finally letting go of me.

  The body was partly covered, washed all the way up on the edge. As we got closer I sensed demons nearby. I had seen many dead people in my short life, but never a real corpse of a demon. I had heard stories that our bodies simply burned when our time came. The female demon was possibly in her late forties. Her pale almost white face was bruised, left eyebrow cut. Her wide blue eyes were parted, and most of her clothes were in pieces. She must have been in the water for several hours, as the corpse appeared to be in a well-preserved condition. It wasn’t something that I wanted to see ever again; down here the corpse looked more like a human than any other supernatural creature.

  She also had long red hair. Yep, it was that one small significant detail that mattered right in that moment.

  “May I?” I asked, hoping to examine her closely. Zach wanted to say no, but he took something from his pocket and handed it to me.

  “Fine, but use gloves. I want to make sure that forensics has a chance to scrub everything off her later on,” he said. I put on the white latex gloves and started brushing her hair off her face. I noticed deep, purple bruises all over her arms and cleavage. She must have been beaten badly before she was killed. This didn’t make much sense. As a demon she could have used her power to defend herself or at least attempt to.

  After I made sure that I hadn’t missed any other unusual signs. I started checking the pockets, thinking that Zach or the other cops must have already emptied them out earlier on. I didn’t find anything in her jacket or jeans, but when I lifted her sweater there was a small bag with hair attached to the other side of her cardigan.

  “Wow, that’s unusual,” I said, and got up waving the bag in front of Zach’s face. He grabbed it, frowning.

  “It’s a bunch of hair,” Zach stated, looking at it like it contained some kind of bomb.

  “Hair, it’s red hair, and I bet you it belongs to Prince George,” I said, before I could stop myself. I took a breath and released the absorbed emotions and energy from the gathering crowd around the crime scene. An electric shiver passed over my spine, and I inhaled deeply, aware of the crackling energy that was dissipating from the space, getting it out of my system.

  Zach grabbed my hand then, and when our eyes met his pupils dilated. My inner self connected with the dead demon, and sometimes when it happened, my eyes would shimmer. I was so pumped with my new discovery that for a split second I forgot that I wasn’t around my own kind.

  “How do you know who the hair belongs to?” he demanded, staring at me intensely, like he was certain that he saw something in my eyes. I meant to keep my mouth shut, but my assumption was correct. As soon as I touched the bag, I knew that the hair inside belonged to the missing prince. Zachary was supposed to be unaware of my abilities, but he was much more sensitive of our world than anyone else around here. I suppose I could blame the tequila for making me a little sloppy, and I was still paying the price for messing around with a royal.

  “I’ll tell you, but stop squeezing my arm. People are staring,” I hissed, narrowing my eyes. I was in so much trouble already. If the prince was dead, then I was going to be c
alled down to hell, and now Zachary was hypersensitive to my abilities, aware that I was hiding stuff from him. None of this was good for my business.

  “I don’t care, Flower. I want to know how you know that this hair belongs to the missing prince,” he repeated, forcefully.

  “Is everything all right, Zach?” asked a slightly overweight cop that stood closer to the edge of the crime scene, looking down at us. Zach didn’t let go of my arm, until we both felt the heat brewing between us. Our attraction was transparent, and I could deny it till the cows came home, but I couldn’t stop myself imagining what if.

  “Fine,” he replied, releasing me. “We need to send this to the lab ASAP. Apparently the hair inside the bag belongs to Prince George.”

  The cop didn’t ask any questions. He took the evidence off my hands and began climbing back up the embankment.

  “I questioned someone last night, a guard from the palace. The prince had been seen with a red-haired woman, an older woman. They were quite intimate,” I explained, using a compulsion to wave off his fears of the unknown. This was against my personal rules, but he had a right know and I needed to make him believe that everything was perfectly normal. His overactive imagination could cause problems with The Watchers. Sometimes they took on the identity of humans, so they could access crime scenes and take care of the problem. Right now the dead demon was a problem.

  Zach was forced to leave me alone five minutes later, when he was called by another female cop.

  “Stay here and don’t touch anything. I’ll be right back,” he told me.

  I had to get my shit together. I had never lost control like that before. The hair was filled with charms used for rituals, to summon other creatures from the underworld. As soon as I brushed my hands over it, I got shot with a strong source of demonic current. The prince was too valuable, and whoever had him wouldn’t simply kill him just yet. The dead demon was somehow connected to my case, and I still had no idea how or why.

  After a few minutes, Zach came back. He was pissed off and reluctant to share anything at all. I knew that I shouldn’t have said anything last night, but tequila made my lips flap. I just didn’t know when to shut up.

  “I just had a phone call from one of my sources. Apparently the dead woman was a well-paid high-class escort. Her friend showed up at the station ten minutes ago. We need to go and question her,” Zachary said.

  “I’m not a cop,” I muttered. Maybe I should have let him beat me in poker. Then we wouldn’t have to be stuck working together. I wasn’t his dead partner; maybe he thought that I could somehow replace her.

  “We made a bet last night. You yourself agreed to be part of this investigation, Flower, and I’m not done with you yet. There are some things that we need to discuss,” he said. “I don’t think you want to miss something like that.”

  He was right; I had no other leads, and maybe the woman at the station had seen the prince with the victim. A few mongrels and a demon blended in the crowd of people behind the yellow tape. I felt them watching me, trying to break through my protective wards. I was tired of being on the other side, fed up that others were ready to tear apart my mind to satisfy their burning curiosity.

  Zachary was tormented, his emotions unsettling. There was unexplained tension between us. I was nervous getting to the car, thinking that maybe I was taking this too far. Rodriguez asked me to work with this guy, and I was never planning to be friends with him.

  “Hey, Detective Quinton, a quick word please?” shouted someone behind us.

  “Fuck, what now?” Zach muttered under his breath, turning around. A very attractive tall blonde human ran towards us. She wore a long, brown trench coat and high heels. Her thoughts were burning with curiosity, looking for answers. I didn’t have to jump into her soul to figure that out.

  “What do you want, Lori? You know that I’m seeing someone else. Find yourself a decent guy without any psychopathic tendencies,” Zachary said hoarsely, but there was a playful tone in his voice. The woman tossed her long shiny hair behind her and glanced at me, well, mainly at my old jeans and leather jacket.

  “Oh, Zach, you’re such a joker. We always had a good time. Don’t forget that,” she laughed. “Any comment about that murder in the canal? There are rumours going around that young Prince George hasn’t been seen in public for quite some time.”

  Zach didn’t move, didn’t even appear to be caught off guard, but I nearly unleashed my power, as panic soared right through me. This was bad, a human reporter knew about the prince and the fact that we just linked the dead woman to his disappearance? How? The royals couldn’t have leaked this. Everything about this case was classified and I had always been so careful.

  “Young Prince George? As far as I know he’s still partying in Cannes,” Zach said, and the vein on his neck bulged. He was getting impatient, and he wanted to get the hell out of here. Yep, I couldn’t block anything that he was feeling at this point. “And the dead woman is just a hooker. Nothing exciting about that.”

  Lori wasn’t buying his lie. She had a very reliable source and wasn’t planning to let this go.

  “Cut the crap, Zach, the body down the canal is linked to the missing royal. I’m running this story tomorrow unless you give me what I want. The woman is dead, and she was the last one seen with the prince,” Lori insisted, moving so close to Zach that their foreheads were nearly touching.

  “Don’t push me, Lori. I don’t know who is feeding you this nonsense. You don’t want to have an enemy in me.”

  “All right, lady,” I said, pushing Zach to the side and grabbing blondie’s hand. “Listen to me carefully. There is no story here. The dead body down by the canal is just some unknown hooker. She was raped and abandoned there. Walk away, go back to your boss and report to him everything that I just told you.” I was going to pay for compelling my power later on, but we couldn’t afford any leaks just yet.

  As the energy surged down my body, connecting with Lori’s, Zach didn’t take his eyes off me. My demonic soul produced enough charms to make Lori believe what I said. I hated doing this to anyone, stripping them of their memories, interfering. Sometimes I hated that I had been born this way, detested that my mother hooked up with a demon and created someone like me. A person that never belonged anywhere, that had to fight to survive in the cruel world where, no matter what, she would never find acceptance.

  “Of course, the hooker was murdered, that’s the story that we are going to run tomorrow,” she mumbled with a detached, blank expression on her face. I let go of her, ceasing the energy transference, and felt slightly on edge. I just had to pray that no one had witnessed this.

  “You owe me a lot of answers, Flower, and I’m going to get them even if I have to drag your sexy arse to the station,” Zach said, watching as the beautiful blonde walked back through the crowd.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars.” ― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

  The woman ambled away and I ignored Zach’s comment, walking ahead, towards his car. The tension inside me escalated, as I tried to ease my anxiety. Zach was silent and that could only mean one thing: he was thinking about that night when he found his dead partner. I exposed myself and now he was suspicious. Fuck, if it wasn’t one thing it was another. It’s true what they say: the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

  Demons had first escaped the underworld centuries ago, breaking the rules set in hell, wanting to taste the life on the outside, amongst humans. When things started getting out of control, Lucifer established a faction system to keep order and a better control of the population. Things had started going wrong downstairs a long time ago, before the Watchers tasted life on earth. No one kept a tab on things upstairs. It was in a demon’s nature to break rules, to taste the freedom.

  Soon mongrels were being born that would never be accepted in the underworld. Half humans gifted with demonic abilities. Later on, the decision was made to send them all to orphanages, where
they could mix with other humans and possibly end up having a good life here on earth. Lucifer wasn’t too happy with the fact that demons enjoyed copulating with humans, so new rules were put in place and any sexual contact with any human was strictly controlled downstairs from then on. That rule didn’t quite apply for mongrels.

  My own mother died because she wanted to protect me. Most of the time if a human woman gave birth to a half demon, her instinct told her to abandon the newborn. That was the new price that every demon had to pay. I didn’t remember much from the time I spent with her. She cared for me for some time, then after her death I was sent to live with nuns in a monastery. It took me years to figure out that I wasn’t like any of the other kids in the orphanage, that I had gifts and could use them to my advantage. Being able to use my gifts early in life stood me in good stead as I had control much earlier than other demons. I made my mistakes and learnt early that there was always a price for magic.

  “I came to the station earlier to thank you,” I blurted out, wanting to break the uncomfortable silence that settled between us. He shifted in his seat, as he took a sharp turn, driving into the main road.

  “You don’t need to thank me. I’m the enemy,” he responded. “I looked into your background. I couldn’t find much; no records of your birth parents. Why is that?”

  I exhaled sharply, knowing that my records were tightly sealed. I should have predicted that he was planning to run a background check on me. He wanted to make sure that I was clean. His last partner ended up dead, so his checks were more than fair.

  “I don’t know why that is so surprising. I grew up with nuns, without parents and I don’t like talking about it. I’m just a girl that keeps on living her own life,” I said, sighing loudly.

  “You might have grown up in an orphanage, but I know that you’re hiding secrets, Flower,” he added, harshly. “Roland. Who is he and why does his name keep popping up in your records?”