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

by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

Around eight o’clock I ended up in the bar, sitting at my usual seat having a chat with good old Paul. It was a busy night and I needed to drown in tequila to shut down the loud voices in my head.

  “Ricky told me that you mustn’t play tonight,” Paul stated, reluctantly giving me the whole bottle of the precious liquid. Ricky knew that I wasn’t in the best of moods, but we had an agreement. I didn’t interfere with the way he ran our business and he didn’t interfere in my addiction.

  “Ricky knows shit. I’m going to win. I have that feeling in my gut,” I said, grabbing the bottle and heading to the room at the back. Two Watchers, a warlock, and some demons were just getting ready to shuffle the cards. This was my doom; I had only a couple hundred on me, but my head needed to be straightened out.

  “Right, boys, I’m in. Let’s get this party started,” I called out, taking a seat next to Devlin, who thought it was his lucky day, that he could outplay me again. Soon the poker rounds began rolling in and I drank. The pain was vanishing, the thoughts weren’t bothering me anymore. I started winning small sums at first, then gambled more, pushing my luck. It was all perfect until I saw Arthur standing on the other side of the bar watching me. Then everything went to shit.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Here pity only lives when it is dead - Virgil” ― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

  I didn’t want to believe that Arthur was in The Broken Shoe. I had drunk the whole bottle of tequila throughout the poker game with Devlin, and now I was finishing the second one. I suspected that my brain was playing tricks on me, that Arthur was just a mirage, someone my twisted mind had created for me. However when I walked up to him, touching his hard chest, his arms, and that handsome face, I was certain that this wasn’t any kind of demonic trick. He was truly standing in front of me, looking completely relaxed.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, swaying from one side to the other.

  “Waiting for you, beautiful. I’ve been watching you for a while. It’s impressive. How long have you been playing poker?”

  I burped loudly and nearly lost my balance, but he caught me quickly. I had gone overboard with magical tequila tonight, but the yellow liquid quieted my demonic soul, the burdening thoughts. Paul was swamped at the bar; it looked like a group of mongrels didn’t know what to do with themselves and they were looking for trouble. Arthur had no idea what kind of scandal he was just about to start if any of these people recognised him.

  “You know exactly how long I’ve been playing poker. Now, let’s get out of here before anyone sees you,” I said, and popped a shot of vodka down my throat just so I could stand straight. It burned, but human alcohol gave me the courage to actually talk to him.

  “What? Are you afraid to be seen with me?” he whispered.

  “I might be, but we both know that you shouldn’t be here, that this isn’t the place for you,” I said, and started dragging him towards the back exit. Once we stepped outside I had to stand for a minute as the dark gloomy streets of Brixton were spinning in front of my eyes. My body trembled with cold. Arthur was staring back at me. He seemed amused and curious. I had lost more money than I thought was possible tonight and drunk twice as much as I usually did. I had no idea how I was still standing.

  There was no way that Arthur came all the way to this part of the city to find me. Where were his guards? His Natalie?

  “Let’s go to your place; it’s freezing out here,” he was saying.

  “You have never been in my place,” I pointed out.

  “There’s always a first time.” He chuckled and wrapped his arm around my waist. When he was holding me so close, I felt like the past didn’t matter, that I was still protecting him. Arthur whispered sweet complements to my ear as we walked home. Tequila had muddled my mind, magic made me see wonderful things, sealing off my demonic soul. Reality and illusion blended together, and we reached my street half an hour later, singing and laughing. I was in a great mood, telling him all about the time when I realised that I had a crush on him.

  I was ashamed standing in front of my building, knowing he would see that my tiny hole wasn’t up his usual standard.

  “I want to have you in my arms; it doesn’t matter where,” he whispered, helping me out with unlocking the doors. I closed my eyes, enjoying the blissful moment when he trailed kisses down my neck. The heat between us boiled the blood in my veins, or maybe it was tequila working its magic, leading me down a path of destruction. Either way I was swept off my feet by Prince Charming and carried upstairs.

  His strong arms embraced me as raw and unmasked desire zoomed through the room, enchanting our lost souls. Nothing was making sense anymore, but I needed more, wanted him to take away the sorrows. His body vibrated with need, and my own limbs shook when he touched my naked flesh. My powers were suddenly awake, rippling through our bodies roughly, and electricity flickered over the room, scorching my neck. I loved him before, I had to give up my life for him, and now we were back together.

  He lifted me and carried me to the bedroom, smiling in the darkness. I touched his face gently with my palm and whispered in his ear.

  “I love you, Arthur.”

  He looked almost puzzled, somehow disturbed, but I no longer cared. The three magic words were the reason that he was with me tonight. After he laid me down on the bed, I let him devour me with his mouth, I let him remove all my clothes and make sweet, forbidden love to me. His smooth hands showered me with electricity that zoomed over my body. I was lost that night, as my head sizzled, filled with magical liquid that made me numb, that supposedly made me forget about everything. His mouth claimed mine gently but firmly. My heart raced as the liquid heat poured from my core.

  I was in the skylight, drifting away, touching the moon and stars. As he made love to me that night I made a decision that in the morning I would tell him everything, the whole truth. I had nothing else to lose, because he finally had chosen me.

  Somewhere in the room the alarm was going off, but I refused to move, to open my eyes. The beeping sound eventually forced me to lift my lids, but my chest heaved when the pain shot violently through my body. I twisted on the bed, trying to swallow, but my mouth was dry as the Sahara Desert. I moaned loudly, cursing magical tequila yet again, not remembering much of what happened last night.

  My room was dark, but tiny beams of light from outside got through the curtains. I inhaled, trying to deal with the fact that my head felt like it was cracked open and millions of tiny humans were drilling holes inside it. I smelled someone else close, a male human, but that was impossible.

  I turned around abruptly when I felt movement on the bed. Pushing through the pain and confusion, I tried to focus. In the darkness of the room I saw a naked man, sleeping peacefully next to me. Raw and unbridled panic clawed up my throat as I tried to figure out what the hell happened several hours before. He was tall, lean and completely naked.

  My mouth was so dry, my soul drenched with overactive energy as the throbbing in my head intensified. The human was alive, and he was breathing normally. It took me several long moments to gather that we had sex last night. I didn’t remember even getting home, let alone bringing home a one-night stand, but I was certain that this guy had sex with me.

  Parts of my brain attempted to piece together everything that happened. Snippets of conversation were slowly coming back, and I began to realise that no one had pushed me into this, that it was my own stupid choice. After getting wasted, I somehow convinced myself that Arthur was at the bar.

  I held my face in my palms, breathing hard, feeling the blood draining. I had fucked around after I got fired from my post at Buckingham Palace. It was a dark time in my life. I partied a lot, slept with random strangers, mongrels and other demons just to ease the longing for Arthur, but last night I had completely lost it.

  There was something wrong with me. Maybe it was time to get help, to learn how to pull through without magic or tequila.

  “Hmm, hon, come here. I want to feel your warm body
pressed against mine,” the voice next to me murmured. I needed to take a shower and then sign myself into a rehab programme. There was no way I was going to be able to stop drinking on my own.

  I pushed the guy to his back and with my inhuman speed I climbed on top of him. He was instantly turned on, but I wasn’t planning to take advantage of him again. He opened his eyes and stared at me for a moment, shocked but open for any kind of possibility. He was good looking, with broad cheeks, light blond hair and cute hazel eyes.

  “Hey, listen to me. You’re going to get up now, put your clothes on and disappear. From this moment, you won’t remember me, you won’t even remember how you got into my apartment,” I said, loud and clear, ignoring the looming headache.

  It was easy to compel him to do what I needed. The tiny voice in my head reminded me that I had no right to tamper with his mind, his memories. Every part of me hated that I had gotten myself into this situation.

  A minute later I was sitting on my bed that stunk of sex and booze. The handsome human was putting his clothes back on. He kept glancing at me, like he wanted an explanation, but he was too confused to ask anything. His name was Adam and he was only looking for some fun last night.

  I was so relieved when I heard the door of my apartment shut a moment later. I sat in the darkness and then started crying over what I did. Yep, for the first time in my life I pushed aside the fact that I was supposed to be strong and I let the tears fall. I could no longer deal with the fact that I kept making wrong decisions.

  Arthur was unreachable and we were never going to be together. He was rich and there was royal blood in his veins. How could I ever think that we were going to be more than just lovers? How could I let him fool me like that?

  I was a half demon, a woman without a real father, a real background.

  As all these thoughts kept floating in my head, I got up and walked around the room for a bit.

  Some time after I had a shower I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I couldn’t stay in my shitty flat and dwell on what happened, on what kind of pathetic mongrel I turned into. The prince was missing and I had to look beyond my own problems. It was a mistake, an error that taught me that it was time to pull my shit together and get sober.

  I left my flat around one, erasing everything that happened last night from my memory. I was very much hungover, disappointed in myself and angry that my self-control was in pieces again. The human last night could have killed me, and no one would have known.

  I used the tube and headed over to one of the places that in the past made me feel stronger.

  I hadn’t visited the children’s ward since my disappearance from London twelve months ago. Deep inside I knew that this could only trip me over the edge, but I had to at least try to push myself through that gloomy depressing mood. The roads outside the hospital were busy and there was a lot of traffic. My stomach revolted when I entered the familiar building, the place I used to love sharing with the man that loved me. Arthur’s pictures were all over the ground floor. He let anyone take his picture and children used to love being the centre of attention with him.

  I took the lift to the first floor, knowing that this would either cure me or push me further in despair. I was wearing my usual clothes, and when the lift reached my floor, I stood inside unable to move.

  “Are you all right?” asked the woman behind me, when I stood frozen looking ahead. We were the only two people in the lift. I cleared my throat and nodded, finally stepping out of the lift. I was hit with a strong antiseptic smell, and a wave of excitement mixed with incredible sadness.

  Everything looked exactly like I remembered, colourful walls, toys stacked around the corridors and medical staff rushing around. I headed over to the other side of the building, knowing that this time around I wanted to change my routine, to see if I could handle seeing a newborn child.

  My heart was longing for some affection. I remembered the way Arthur interacted with children, the way he naturally bonded with them, making them laugh. Deep down I knew that he would have been a great father. That thought left me shaky; my legs trembled but I continued to walk.

  After some time I found the delivery corridor and situated myself behind a few women that were staring down at crying newborns. I took a few deep breaths and lifted my head to look at the tiny humans. It was surreal and crushing at the same time. The past had changed me, and suddenly I felt like my own loneliness was slowly choking me, wrapping its fingers around my throat.

  All these orphaned children reminded me of myself when I was taken to the nuns for the first time in my life, after my mother was gone and there wasn’t anyone who could take care of me. I was so scared and tired. I didn’t remember how old I could have been then, maybe four or five. My whole world shattered and suddenly I had to stay away from home with strangers, surrounded by other kids, sleep in a bed that wasn’t mine. My powers hadn’t started to develop yet, but I was aware of the sadness and sorrow behind the walls of the monastery orphanage. Everything was so fresh in my memory.

  I wiped the sweat off my forehead, staring at those tiny humans that couldn’t be more than a few hours old, wiggling their hands and feet. That’s why I had to keep going, so I could turn my past around, change everything. Getting drunk and gambling couldn’t last forever, tequila wouldn’t numb me forever. I had to face reality—and maybe even consider telling Arthur the truth.

  We had something special going on, and twelve months ago I had given him exactly what he wanted.

  I couldn’t afford to slip back into old ways. I had dealt with my past the best I could, and the choices that I made then weren’t necessarily right. Maybe everything could still be fixed.

  I left the hospital, feeling less wounded, somehow refreshed. But I still had a long way to go. In the tube station I told myself that this was it—I had to change, push through. No one was going to hold my hand. It was time to grow up.

  I reached the office some time before two. On the threshold I heard Emma’s laugh. Inside I found her with Detective Zachary Quinton, who sat in a chair near the desk, probably waiting for me. My heart made a flip, reminding me that it’d been three days since I spoke to him, since we made out. Ricky was standing by the window, looking like he was ready to strangle someone.

  “Hey, Ricky … and Zach,” I said. “And Emma.”

  Zach zoomed his deep dark eyes over my face and smiled. My stomach reminded me that I needed to fuel it with some food. Ricky could probably smell magical tequila from the other side of the room, but I pretended that I could work, that my hangover wasn’t a problem today. We needed to have a chat about our other pending cases, but I could see Ricky wanted me to get rid of Zach first. I sensed that he didn’t like him very much or maybe he just didn’t trust him yet.

  “How are you, Maxine? Missed me much?” Zach asked, standing up.

  “Not particularly. What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “He’s here to talk to you,” Ricky responded for him, not looking too happy that Zach was hogging our space. Sometimes he liked marking his territory way too obsessively. Both Zach and Emma seemed to sense his magic circulating in the air. I could only hope that Zach was immune to Ricky’s tricks.

  “We had an agreement, Max, and you’re lucky enough that I’m sticking to it. I should be in the field, solving this case, searching for leads. Instead I’m here, waiting for you to show up,” Zach pointed out, checking his watch.

  Then the phone rang and Emma answered it. I narrowed my eyes on Zach, trying to figure out if he was here because he was forced to it by a demonic influence or if he made his choice. Part of me knew that he came back because we were working on the case together. Prince George was still out there, hopefully still alive.

  “There’s someone on the phone for you, Max. A woman, and she is saying that it’s important,” Emma said, covering the phone with her palm. Zach shook his head, and nodded to me to take the call.

  “Hello, Maxine speaking,” I said, taking the phone from Emma an
d flopping my sorry arse on her desk. It was going to be long day today.

  “Max? The one that is looking for a missing prince?” asked the nervous-sounding voice on the other side of the phone. It was a female, but the line was crackling. I clicked my fingers in front of Zach’s face to get his attention.

  “Yes, that’s me, who are you?”

  “Natasha. My friend Jessica was with the prince a couple of nights ago. She said that he wasn’t himself,” the woman was saying. “I called because I heard that you can help me. I’m in trouble because of her.”

  Zachary and Ricky were staring at me in confusion.

  “She was with the prince? Where? When?” I questioned her. The hot detective walked around Emma’s desk and leaned over, trying to listen in. His presence was suddenly distracting. I smelled his sexy cologne and my hormones suddenly went berserk. Magic from last night still circulated through my system.

  “In the club Zander in North London. We both waitress there. The prince looked ill. No one recognised him apart from me. Then he went out with Jessica. She called me last night, saying that he bit her and she had to go to the hospital,” the woman said, while Zachary was breathing close to my cheek.

  “Where are you right now?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to see anyone. I’m just worried about Jess. Please can you go and check on her? She hasn’t come in to work today and that’s not like her. What if the prince has done something to her?”

  The human woman on the line couldn’t have known the prince was missing. Rodriguez made sure that there was a block on the story, but we finally had a lead. Someone was with Prince George last night, a human.

  “How did you know who to call?” I asked.

  “Someone in the club gave me your number. He said that you deal with unexplained cases, that you look for missing people,” she explained. “My friend lives in St. Richards Avenue in Hackney, Apartment twenty-four. Headlands Court. Please, someone has to check if she is all right.”