How to Hunt a Menacing Magical Shadow Page 4

  Any normal cop would have immediately barged in to save the day. But me...my hand hovered over the door lever. Sweat was beading down my forehead. I swallowed a golf ball down my throat as I nervously contemplated what I should do. What if someone dies because I screwed up again? I should call this in, but I didn’t have a radio. If I ran to find someone, it might be too late by the time I got back. No...this was up to me. I couldn’t afford to screw up again. Time to be the hero.

  I positioned myself behind the door. With one hand, my clammy fingers firmly clenched around the grooves on the gun, ready to fire at whoever was on the other side. I closed my other hand around the cold metal lever and without thinking, just went for it.

  The door swung open, and with a loud bang drove into the plastered wall behind it, bouncing and rattling on its hinges.

  “Police!” I announced, my voice projecting across the entire office like a megaphone. My eyes quickly swept the area but immediately focused to the middle of the office where a lifeless woman lay face down beside a black leather sofa. I ran over to her side. Deep lacerations and bruises covered her entire body, like she had been shoved out of a car and rolled down a hill hitting every rock, branch, and bush on her way to the bottom. Blood pooled on the floor around her. Her black, high waisted dress skirt was torn to shreds. The white button-down blouse she wore with it was soaked the same color red as the roses kept in the glass vase now in pieces next to her.

  When my gaze lifted, I recognized a familiar face standing behind a massive wooden desk. The floor to ceiling windows behind him cast a blurry shadow that slightly masked his face, but I could pick out those gloves anywhere.

  “Nolan?” He waved his hands up in the air, signaling his surrender.

  “Adrian, my friend, I’m so glad you’re here! I was walking by, heading for my session and I...I heard someone scream so I came running over.” He dropped his chin to his chest, his words hung heavy with despair and his eyes full of regret.

  “I was too late. She was like this when I got here. I was just about to call it in when you showed up.”

  I froze in place, not sure what to do. Nolan was speaking at the event, so it wasn’t unusual to see him here. I kept the shaking gun pointed at his head for only a second before I lowered my aim and placed it safely back into its holster on my hip. He came out from behind the desk and stood next to me as I crouched down beside the dead woman’s head to take a closer look.

  At first, it appeared as though someone had taken a knife and sliced her like a Christmas ham. But then I saw it. The rays of sun beaming through the wall of windows were illuminating something under the sofa. I leaned in to take a closer look and noticed its shape was identical to a gun. And not just any gun. The MP-Vanquisher.

  My eyes shot up to face Nolan as my hand drew toward my hip. “You—”

  Before I could react, Nolan’s foot was on a collision course straight for my shoulder. My feet swung out from under me, my body twisting in a corkscrew. I fumbled for my pistol, but the force of his kick sent it sliding across the room. I waved uncontrollably searching for anything to cushion my fall. Bright flashes of light danced across my eyes as my head collided against the sharp corner of the end table. The pain reverberated like sound waves through my skull. I blinked rapidly, my left eye stinging from the blood trickling down the gash on my forehead.

  “You should know better than to let your guard down, my friend.” Nolan was right. How could I be such an idiot? I was standing in front of the door when I heard the thud of her body hit the floor. He was obviously already in the room.

  Nolan was towering over me, ready to take a swing at my head with a ceramic mug. I snapped my leg out and swept it under his feet. Nolan stumbled a few steps back then let out a taunting grunt as he caught himself on a chair.

  “Impressive. You’ve been practicing. But it looks like you still need some work.”

  I clutched the side of the sofa and staggered to my feet. My gun was out of reach and I had little faith in my ability to win a fist fight. I made a mental note of what I had with me....a flashlight, a baton, a pair of handcuffs, and some magic spell bombs I really hoped I didn’t have to use. I shifted my eyes around the room for anything else I could get creative with.

  With no time to think, Nolan executed his next move. I ripped the flashlight from its strap and beamed it directly into his eyes. He shielded them from the light, hurling the mug mindlessly into the air. Bits of ceramic exploded outward at the sound of it crashing into a filing cabinet. I leaped behind the sofa, searching for my gun.

  “Not so fast.” Nolan appeared out of nowhere, a sly smirk on his face enjoying every minute of this. I dove for the pistol just as he snatched the back of my vest. My shoulder collided into the unforgiving wall as the entire room rattled like an earthquake.

  Pressing against the wall with my palm, I climbed to my feet. The gun wavered in my left hand, aiming blindly at whatever was in front of me. My head felt stuck in a blender, everything spinning in a painful, nauseous, never-ending circle. I heard a voice speaking and twirled around to face it.

  “Demitto!” Something hit my side and magic rippled through my arms as they stuck like glue to my hips.

  “You know why I wear these gloves?” Nolan stood in front of me. He raised a single arm and curled his thin fingers like tendrils around my neck, squeezing tighter with each breath I tried to take.

  “They’re not just for show. They’re spelled with strength. Very helpful for getting out of situations like this.”

  With my hands stuck to my side, I kicked out my feet as he threatened to separate my neck from my shoulders, the magic gloves demonstrating their strength. My jaw dropped as the numbness in my throat gave way to weakness. My eyes winced from the intense pressure crushing my windpipe, my pulse throbbed through my brain as it begged for oxygen. I fought against the spell, like struggling to free myself from a thick bungee cord wrapped around my body. I wiggled a few fingers, and felt the sticky gel snapping one strand at a time until my entire hand was almost free.

  A sharp pop shattered the air around me and a bullet punched its way through Nolan’s upper leg. I dropped to the floor like a dead fly, gasping for air, as he stumbled backwards clutching his injured leg.

  “You shot me!” His mouth dropped open, his head cocked sideways as he disbelievingly examined the gushing hole in his leg. Blood absorbed into the fibers of his tan dress pants, spreading outwards like a gruesome flower blooming on his pants.

  I pounced on Nolan and pinned him to the ground, completely freeing myself from the sticky spell. He flung a punch to my right cheek, but it didn’t tear apart my jaw like I had expected. The magic energy in his gloves was likely running low. Maybe I had a chance...maybe I could survive this. Someone must have heard the shot go off. I just needed to hold out long enough until they got here.

  Fight. I froze for a split second at the voice, long enough for Nolan to grab a wrist. With two fingers on either side, he began to twist effortlessly using the strength of his gloves. Bone scraped against bone and began pulling apart in opposite directions, until a sharp popping sound caused me to scream in unimaginable pain radiating up my arm. I clutched my dislocated wrist with my free hand, cursing at Nolan’s act of torture against me.

  Revenge. The same voice that called to me in my dreams spoke again. Was this all a dream? Was this all a big joke going on in my head?

  Revenge was exactly what I hungered for. With my right hand useless, I hammered a left hook into Nolan’s jaw, streams of blood sprayed out of his mouth and onto my clothes. As madness overcame me, a blurry vision flashed in my head. A dead body, smothered in blood and covered in black soot like he had been set on fire. It was too quick for me to pick up on who it was. I could only picture Nolan bleeding out on the floor in front of me.

  “Why?” I grated, my voice seething with anger. Without giving him time to answer, my unforgiving fist struck his eye. He was moaning in pain, losing consciousness. But I didn’t care. I kept
bashing my fist against his face, one punch after another. The rage surged in my stomach as it consumed me and flared out of control. I was tired of everyone kicking me around like a crumpled soda can on the streets. I was done with all this bullshit. This man deceived me, betrayed my trust, then tried to kill me. So why shouldn’t I kill him? I went to grab the gun next to me when five police officers charged through the door.

  “Cotter, get up!” Lieutenant Daley commanded, ripping me off Nolan. I shrugged my shoulders, waving my good hand around trying to get in one last punch, but his grip held firm on my vest. He took one look at Nolan’s disfigured face and the dead body on the floor. Noticing my bloodied hands and the gun, he instantly concluded exactly what had happened. “Adrian Cotter, you’re under arrest for assault and murder. You’re coming with me.”

  Chapter 5

  I t’s every officer’s dream to be handcuffed and dragged out of a building in their police uniform while proclaiming at the top of their lungs they were falsely accused of murder. The whole experience was utterly humiliating. Media covering the MagiCon event caught me on camera as I was shoved into the back of a police car. They were forcing their way through the crowd, trying to get answers on what was going on. I could only imagine what they’d be saying about me on the five o’clock news.

  I sat in a holding cell and said nothing, rubbing the dislocated wrist the medic popped back in place. I knew how this went down, although I couldn’t say I was ever on the criminal side of the bars. I kept telling myself everything will work out. I was innocent until proven guilty, and they had no proof. Say nothing, ask for a lawyer, and wait to be set free. Then probably start searching for another job.

  I waited for two hours before someone finally came to get me. They brought me into the interrogation room, a stuffy concrete box that smelled like blood, sweat, and tears. Literally. The heat was cranked up, the weak yellow glow of the single ceiling fixture reflected off the shiny metal table. I’d been here many times before, but never on the receiving end of the questioning, never handcuffed and chained to the table like a caged animal.

  A short but athletically built woman walked into the room and pulled out a seat directly across from me. Her thin, straw-like hair was pinned back into a tight bun, bangs framing the lack of concern displayed on her round face. The name on her uniform said ‘S. Walters’.

  “Ahem. Excuse me, um, Detective Walters? Where’s my lawyer?” I asked in the most polite voice I could manage over my frustration. Still, it sounded pretty insulting.

  “Your state-provided attorney got wind of who you were and decided he had better things to focus on right now. He’ll get here when he gets here. If he ever decides to come, that is,” she replied in a voice dryer than a saltine cracker, simultaneously writing something down on a notepad. I gave her a cold, hard stare for a solid minute, but she never looked up. An awkward silence filled the room, broken only by my stomach rumbling louder than a bear waking up from hibernation.

  “I know there are cupcakes in the kitchen. I would greatly appreciate it if you could grab me a red velvet? Or anything really. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

  She didn’t speak, but I got my answer when she raised her eyebrows and cast me an offensive glower, a flash of impatience twitching her eyelids.

  “You know, I’m pretty sure this is illegal. You can’t deny me an attorney.” The woman rolled her eyes, swiped her notepad, and stomped out of the room making sure I was well aware of her frustration. A few minutes later Captain Fletcher stormed in. He slapped a folder down on the table and got right to the point.

  “Adrian, talk to me.” He was playing the good cop role. Like I was going to believe that.

  “This doesn’t look good. You were in the room, making an art project out of Nolan’s face. If we hadn’t gotten there in time, you would have killed him. Hell, you even shot him, Adrian. And you were about to shoot him again when we got there.” He paused to let me defend myself, but there was nothing to deny. I had smashed his face in like a Halloween pumpkin and to be honest, I didn’t regret any part of it.

  “You need to take this seriously, Adrian. The CEO of Arcane Enterprises, Sarah Canmore, is dead. And everything points to you as the murderer. Tell me what happened.” My eyes widened at the name. I had no idea who that woman on the floor was, and to hear it had been the CEO of Arcane Enterprises, the magiceutical company where my mother had worked, caught me by surprise.

  “I told you I’m not your guy. You have no proof I had anything to do with her death, so just let me go already.” I was more annoyed he kept insisting I did it than scared about the potential consequences of being accused. Until the next words came out of his mouth.

  “Actually, we do.” He opened the folder and slid it across the table, displaying a thick stack of paperwork and pictures. “You were well outside of your assigned location when the incident happened. Your prints are all over the magic gun. We have two officers who confirmed you were at the shooting range practicing with the gun just a few weeks ago. Your hair and blood were found on her body. You attacked Nolan. Adrian, I know the things you say to the other officers. You have a history of...lashing out. And this time you took it too far.”

  “Nolan was with me at the range. It was his gun. He did this.”

  “No one ever saw Nolan there and he’s not on camera. Just you. Practicing your shooting techniques, very poorly I might add, with the air bullets. The gun is unregistered, illegally acquired.”

  His words soaked into my brain like a wet sponge. Nolan had set this up perfectly. He knew my fingerprints would be all over the gun. He knew those officers would be at the range, and left right before they showed up. Probably paid someone to alter the security footage too. And those damn gloves...they covered up any fingerprints he might have left behind.

  Captain Fletcher leaned back in his chair and crossed his short arms, drumming his stubby fingers against his frighteningly large biceps about to shred his shirt sleeves in half.

  “And then let’s talk about motive. The magic medical device implanted in your mother after the accident was made by the company she worked for, Arcane Enterprises. It gave her another chance at life. Until it malfunctioned and killed her. There were rumors the company used the device against her because of some unsanctioned project she was working on. But that’s all they were, Adrian. Rumors. You could never let go of that idea, could you? You were determined to get proof that didn’t exist. And when you didn’t get what you wanted, you killed her.”

  My nostrils flared and my mouth tightened as I forcefully restrained myself from leaping over the table to strangle him with the chains around my wrists. The anger was flowing like lava through my veins, boiling inside me like a volcano ready to erupt.

  With each sarcastic insult, each accusatory judgement, I cared less about giving a shit and more about how I could repay them all for making my life a living hell since the day I stepped foot in this office. A bead of sweat rolled off my brow and splashed onto the table. And then the volcano erupted.

  “I am not a murderer!” I slammed my fists down and shot up from the cheap plastic chair, a loud crash echoed in the room as the chair flipped over onto its side. Captain Fletcher flinched at the unexpected outburst. I pointed my finger at him, the clanking of the metal chains around my wrists vibrating loudly against the table.

  “You have no right to talk about my mother that way. And what she did or didn’t do has nothing to do with what’s happening now. I don’t know how many more times I have to tell you...I. Did. Not. Kill. Her.”

  He narrowed his eyes and stared into my raging emotions, searching my body language for any signs of deception. He then casually closed the file and rose from his seat.

  “That’s enough.” He exhaled a long sigh and made his way to the door, addressing some officers standing right outside. “Bring him to his holding cell and we’ll let the judge figure this out in court.”

  He turned to give me one last chance to confess.


  “The evidence is stacked against you. There is no doubt in my mind you’ll be charged with murder. You might as well come clean now and make it easier for everyone.”

  “I won’t confess to something I didn’t do.”

  “Very well, have it your way.” He waved his hand and dismissed my words, disappearing down the hallway.

  The officers led me back to my holding cell, a dark, concrete tomb with the same single dimly lit fixture above. I sat down on the bench and cradled my head in my hands. I was still wearing my police uniform, minus the vest and all the weapons. There were dried blood stains on my shirt, uncertain if they were mine or Nolan’s. My head was still throbbing, the world around me somewhat of a blur as I struggled to believe this was actually happening to me. I touched a finger to the piece of square gauze a medic taped to my head. Blood had seeped right through it, coating my fingertip.

  I sat back against the cold cinder block wall and flexed my fingers. These hands nearly killed someone tonight. What was wrong with me? Sure, I was hotheaded, but never violent. It’s like the barrier I erected to distance myself from these people was bulldozed down, letting out everything I kept trapped inside into a vicious outburst of pain and suffering.

  After about twenty minutes of wallowing in my own self-hatred for being so stupid, I heard the sound of uneven footsteps echoing down the hallway, stopping in front of my cell.

  “You son of a—” I sprang from the bench and clenched a hand tightly around a bar, swatting my other arm through trying to grab his shirt.

  “Don’t you think you’re in enough trouble, my friend?” Nolan leaned back, just out of reach from my claws. Garish purple splotches of all different sizes marred his face. As he scratched right above his swollen eye, his crutches slipped on the tile floor causing him to hop off balance.

  “Why are you doing this?” I growled in a low, feral voice.

  He leaned in, but not close enough for me to grab him, then whispered, “I have my reasons. I just came to thank you for your spectacular performance today. To be honest, I was just going to plant the gun and your DNA over the body. Who would have guessed you’d be there to shoot me and smash my face in? No one’s going to believe you now.”