Shadow Plague Page 3

  “I could not have put it better, Slayer. If not the Cabal, then who? Who is making these monsters? How are they doing it? And why?”

  “Maybe the Cabal is changing up their strategy?”

  Octurna shook her head. “The Seven Dark Masters have worked on their dark spell for more than a century. Why risk it all when they are so close to achieving their goal?”

  The “dark spell” in question was a terrible ritual designed to transport Earth into a dimension of cosmic horrors. Or something like that. Octurna had skimped on the grisly details. This much I knew for sure—if the Cabal was allowed to succeed, it would be bad news for humanity. We're talking about an end-of-the-world type of scenario here.

  Early in my training, I had asked Octurna why she didn’t send me after the Seven Dark Masters, and she’d scoffed at my foolishness. First of all, my powers were no match for the magical bosses, at least not yet. Even though the defeat of Diamonique had given me a significant power boost, I still wasn’t ready. More importantly, Octurna didn’t know how to locate the dark mages. They had cut themselves off from the world, putting their agents of chaos and monsters in charge while they focused on the heavy lifting of casting this doomsday spell.

  This much I had managed to piece together. Octurna believed that there were seven hidden temples spread across the planet, where each one of the bastards had been engaged in deep meditation for the last hundred years while their minions did their best to make the world a shittier place. After all, negative energy fueled this Cabal super-spell. The more bad shit that went down, the faster this end-of-times spell would come to dark fruition.

  Why was the Cabal determined to hurl our world into some universe of unimaginable horrors? I guess these bastards figured it was the only way to reverse humanity’s scientific progress and throw us back into the Dark Ages where magic and superstition would once again rule supreme. The Masters would become gods, and darkness would rain upon the earth. You know, standard-issue stuff.

  Just thinking about the evil we were up against depressed the hell out of me.

  “So where do we go from here?” I asked, hoping to steer my thoughts in a more constructive direction.

  The magical windows changed again, showing me several angles of a Holiday Inn. A heavy police presence surrounded the hotel, sirens bleeding into the night.

  “The latest incident occurred in Austin, Texas, where the hotel staff discovered the body of a savagely mauled woman. According to the workers, the victim looked like a pack of wild animals had attacked her. The room where they found her remains was registered to a John Davis, age 38, a married management consultant visiting Austin on a business trip. Witness reports suggest that he picked up the victim at the hotel bar. Police found Mr. Davis outside the Holiday Inn, naked and covered in the dead woman’s blood, apparently out of his mind. There are also accounts by guests who claim to have seen a strange reptilian creature on the property around the time of the attack.”

  The windows showed the cops escorting John Davis to a waiting police van. He wore a blanket and sported a vacant look on his face. A man teetering on the brink.

  “You think Mr. Davis transformed into a monster, murdered this woman, and then became human again?” I asked.

  “It is possible. The hotel's security cameras captured the following video on the night of the murder. Authorities removed the footage from the internet shortly after it was posted, but I was able to obtain a copy.”

  Grainy security footage filled one of the magical windows. A reptilian man-beast darted down a hotel corridor. I watched with growing dread as sharp-toothed mouths opened all over the beast’s body like blossoming flowers. Disgusting and freaky as all hell.

  “I figure Godzilla here isn’t in the Cabal books either.”

  “Not the last time I checked.”

  “You think this was a one-time transformation?”

  Octurna shook her head. “I doubt it. Davis is in custody at the moment, so everyone at the police precinct is in potential danger.”

  The magical windows changed again, and now I was looking out into a bustling Austin precinct. Uniformed cops booked perps while plainclothes detectives who looked severely sleep-deprived listlessly filed reports.

  Damn, I wanted to step through the magical barrier and join them.

  The windows didn’t merely look out into reality; they were also doorways to the world. I could almost taste the stale coffee, feel the weariness that went bone-deep all the way to their tired souls. I was intimately familiar with this world, where men and women donned a uniform and did their best to keep their communities safe, to stave off the darkness nipping away at society.

  For a split second, I longed to have my old life back even though there was no chance of that happening. The world believed Jason Night was dead; the sorceress had made sure of that.

  “The police are expecting a visit from an FBI profiler,” Octurna said. Another window showed a serious man with a black suit navigating early morning Austin traffic. “Agent Robert Forster is on his way to question Mr. Davis.”

  “You want me to take his place.”

  The sorceress nodded. “We don’t have much time. You better go now.”

  My badass trench coat morphed into a suit J. Edgar Hoover would have been proud of, and I didn’t need to look in a mirror to realize that I had become the spitting image of the FBI agent in the car. My clothes could change as needed, and many times my physical appearance followed suit. Don’t ask me how it works. My threads seemed imbued with an eerie intelligence of their own and could change before I even consciously decided to do so.

  My rune-engraved submachine gun had transformed into a 9mm Glock which sat snugly in a leather shoulder holster. I drew the firearm and gave it a skeptical glance. The only indicator that I was holding the same gun were the glyphs etched into the pistol’s steel surface. I didn’t even try to hide my disappointment.

  “You will draw the wrong kind of attention if you arrive in a police precinct with a glowing weapon,” Octurna said, a grin etched across her flawless features. “The gun will still shoot, Jason.”

  “I like big guns, what can I say?”

  “The size of the gun does not determine its accuracy,” Octurna said.

  Feeling a little bummed about losing my badass machine pistol, I checked to make sure the rest of my gear was intact. My hand reached for the star-shaped amulet I kept in my pants pocket, recalling Octurna’s earlier words when she had first gifted me the pendant: The medallion can become any form of identity you may need while carrying out your missions. You can visit crimes scenes, infiltrate government, and other secure buildings.

  Thanks to the magic imbued in the amulet, I was now holding a real FBI badge. The face of Agent Robert Forster stared back at me from the photo.

  Octurna flashed me an appreciative smile. “You look good in a suit.”

  “This isn’t even my real face,” I said, touching my chin.

  “I can see beyond such petty illusions,” Octurna said. “I could never mistake you for anyone else, Jason. You are… unique.”

  Her compliment, if that’s what it was, caught me off guard. I sometimes sensed her attraction to me, but she did her best to keep things professional between us. I, on the other hand, found it kinda hard considering how our first meeting involved her writhing naked on top of me.

  I grinned as I approached the sparkling window.

  “I can’t wait to see what flavors of donuts they have in this place.”

  With those words, I stepped through the flickering window…

  CHAPTER 3

  3

  …And arrived inside the bustling precinct.

  I looked back, but all signs of the interdimensional doorway had vanished. I figured Octurna was still watching me, but I couldn't see any trace of her. I was on my own now.

  A plainclothes detective whirled around to look at me. “Whoa, where the hell did you come from?” He exhaled sharply and added, “You shouldn’t be snea
king up on my people like that, you’re liable to give someone a heart attack.”

  My eyes flicked to the nameplate on the detective’s desk, which identified him as Ben Grover.

  “I’m sorry, Detective Grover. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Regaining his composure somewhat, Detective Grover addressed me in a clipped voice. “Last we spoke, Agent Forster, you told me traffic was terrible, and you were going to be thirty minutes late.”

  I scanned my watch and wondered how much time had passed since Special Agent Forster had checked in with Detective Grover. Judging by his surprise, probably only a few minutes. My time was limited. I would have my little chat with Davis and get the hell out of here before the real Agent Forster arrived. Fortunately, I had interacted with my share of FBI agents throughout my law enforcement career and knew how to play my part.

  “We don’t have much time. Would you mind taking me to see the suspect? And could someone get me a cup of coffee?”

  I hadn’t had a decent cup of joe in months. Despite all the strange magical artifacts in Octurna’s castle, a coffee maker wasn’t among them. The detective grabbed a Styrofoam cup and filled it to the brim himself. I practically inhaled the coffee. On a typical day, I would have made a face at the crappy brew, but considering how long I’d gone without, it tasted like the nectar of the gods.

  “I’m going to give you a chance to talk with the suspect, Forster, but first I want you to take a look at the body.”

  I nervously glanced at my watch but decided to play along. After all, I was here to learn as much as possible about the case. My years on the force had taught me that even small, seemingly insignificant details might hold answers.

  A lot of cops have a habit of getting into a pissing contest with Feds. Luckily, Detective Grover didn’t fit that cliché and almost seemed happy that I was here. The man struck me as a good cop who was in way over his head. Grover was probably hoping I could shed some light on a mystery which defied his understanding.

  I fell in step with the detective as he led me through the hectic precinct. I drank in the sights and sounds of the place, feeling back in my element for the first time in four months. I missed the easy camaraderie I’d shared with my SWAT team members. Losing most of my friends had left a deep hole, a void that my current monster-hunting gig couldn’t fill.

  Even though I traveled the globe hunting nightmare beasts and wizards, I had also been hiding out inside Octurna’s fortress since the attack, unwilling to spend time in the real world and pick up the pieces of my broken life. Then again, how do you fix your life when it’s officially over? On paper I was deceased. Thanks to Octurna’s magic a homeless man wearing my face lay in my grave.

  This wasn’t the place for me to grapple with existential angst. I had a job to do. And time was running out.

  We took an elevator to the basement, and Detective Grover led me to the space lovingly known as the meat locker. We briskly walked past a couple of forensic examiners busy autopsying a recent murder victim on a stainless steel table.

  I gagged at the smell of chemicals in the air and struggled to keep my last meal down. Even though I’d faced death in many of its guises, seeing a beautiful dead woman with her chest cracked open could still affect me.

  Don’t lose your cool now, I told myself.

  Detective Grover stepped up to the wall lined with drawers. He held my gaze, gauging my reaction as he pulled out one of the drawers. A shroud covered a human form. Wordlessly he withdrew the sheet, revealing the mutilated victim. I had tried to steel myself for this part but barely stifled a gasp. Ugly bite marks covered the corpse.

  Anger flared inside of me. This monster had violated this poor woman in the most horrific way imaginable. He had taken her life and then feasted on her flesh. At least I prayed the victim was already dead before she sustained the worst of the injuries.

  “According to the forensic report, the victim was bitten over thirty times,” Detective Grover explained in a voice drained of emotion. “Bite circumference varies each time and sure as hell doesn’t appear to be human.”

  I processed Grover’s words in grim silence. Unfortunately, the detective had more to say.

  “You know why I’m showing you this? I don’t think the guy did it. He couldn’t have done it. Yes, we found him outside the hotel, naked and in a disturbed mental state, covered in this poor girl’s blood. Don’t ask me what exactly happened, but one thing is for sure. No man could inflict such damage with his teeth.”

  Not a man. A monster.

  Detective Grover leaned closer, his face as tight as his voice. “You understand what I’m saying here?”

  I nodded. I understood all too well. More than the detective could ever imagine. I had seen the footage of the freaky creature that the hotel guest had recorded with their cell cam.

  “Now some of the guys around here think he was on drugs, bath salts or something worse. People have done some seriously fucked up shit hopped up on synthetic cathinone, but I’ve never come across a drug that could change the size of your teeth.”

  I agreed with Grover, but I couldn’t tell him the truth. If I explained that black magic had turned the perp into a monster with dozens of mouths, he’d call the men in white coats and order a psych evaluation.

  Detective Grover covered the body and closed the steel drawer with a loud clang of finality, and we headed for the interrogation room.

  On the way over there, we walked past a detective who was doing his best to prevent a press conference from descending into absolute chaos. Details of the murder had gotten out, and reporters kept barking out questions about the grisly case. The journalists kept bringing up the video of the weird creature in the hotel on the night of the crime. No one believed it to be real, but many of the reporters clearly believed the suspect had dressed up in a Halloween costume while committing the crime. That was a juicy, click-worthy story, if they could spin it for their audience.

  My gaze combed the crowd of reporters, and my heart skipped a beat. I had held my fair share of press conferences throughout my law enforcement career, and the presence of journalists didn’t faze me. What threw me for a loop was the familiar face in the hive of journalists. Keira stood front and center, her probing eyes seeking answers.

  For a beat, she looked right at me, and the world seemed to grow still. Blood rushed in my ears as I held her gaze. Naturally, she didn’t recognize me, my magical disguise turning me into a stranger to the woman who I’d rescued back in Los Angeles. Her investigation into a local cult had almost cost her everything. Luckily for her, I’d shown up seconds before a giant monster could have his way with her in front of an audience of crazed cultists. Saving her from a fate worse than death had endeared me to her, and we’d spent a passionate night together, two lost souls who had found comfort in each other’s arms.

  The next day I had bailed, worried that if I stuck around, I would put Keira into even greater danger. I couldn’t pull her into my reality of monsters and magic. Yet here she was, seeking out the dark world on her own.

  Why was she here? Why leave LA for a random murder case?

  The answer was simple. Keira was unwilling to let go of the horrors she’d witnessed back in the Cabal’s Malibu lodge. She knew there was more to the world than our rational minds could conceive. The video must have gotten her attention.

  Great. Another complication to an already difficult case.

  She frowned at me, realizing that I was staring at her. Luckily, I was wearing Agent Forster’s face. Before the situation became awkward, Grover grabbed me by the wrist and whisked me through the crowd. He shot me a questioning glare as soon as we had some privacy again. “What was all that about?”

  I shrugged and shook my head. “She looked familiar, that’s all. Maybe from an old case.”

  Grover took my answer at face value. Hell, it was even true in a technical sense. I struggled to put Keira out of my mind as I followed the detective toward the interrogation rooms.

&n
bsp; A few minutes later, I was sitting across from John Davis. He wore oversized gym sweats now, courtesy of the precinct, and stared at me with glassy, lost eyes. John was clearly not home right now, but if I’d like to leave a message…

  I checked the clock in the interrogation room again. My trip to the pathology lab had cost me valuable time. I would have to wrap this up fast without giving too much away. Detective Grover would be watching my every move on the other side of the one-way mirror. I would have to choose my words carefully.

  I tried to sound as professional as possible as I asked, “How are you feeling, Mr. Davis?”

  He blinked, and I saw tears in his eyes.

  “Do you remember anything that happened at the hotel?”

  He shook his head. He looked guilty, though, or had at least convinced himself of his guilt.

  “According to the staff, you met Kate Fisher at the hotel bar, where you offered to buy her a drink?”

  “Yes,” he said softly.

  “I know you’re married, Mr. Davis. I also know you travel quite a bit for work. Do you make a habit of picking up women while you’re out of town?”

  Davis lowered his head, the gesture speaking louder than words.

  “I love my wife. I do. But ever since the baby…”

  We all needed our illusions, so I didn’t point out that Davis wouldn’t be in this mess if he’d just stayed faithful to his wife.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” I asked.

  “I wish I could. But I don’t remember anything.” Now the tears were coming hot and heavy. “I don’t… I can’t…”

  "This is your chance to share your side of the story, Mr. Davis. You know what the cops think. Kate realized you were married. At that point, she wanted out, but you were too worked up to let her go."

  Sudden anger flared in his eyes. “That’s a goddamn lie. That’s not what happened! I didn’t try to hide who I was. She knew the deal. I showed her my wedding band. We were both looking for a good time.”

  I held his gaze as he defended himself, searching his face for any trace of deception. My gut told me Davis was telling the truth. He was good-looking and would have no problem wooing a woman, especially one who shared his loose morals.