Blood Magic: A Short Horror Story Page 2

  For effect, I was one of those unlucky sons of bitches.

  "Don't move!" ordered Sergeant Lima, pretending that we didn't sit at the same poker table every other Sunday. With my face pressed tight, I still couldn't locate Tanner, but I focused on what I thought was most vital.

  "He had a knife!" I shrieked. "Tried to stab me, he did!"

  Two officers wrestled with Coco. Even then he didn't give in until both arms were painfully locked behind his back and a knee pressed his neck to the cement.

  "Get the knife," commanded the sergeant. "Call more units and give them all a ride."

  Lima handed me off to a uni who shoved me into the back of his cruiser. As we left, I saw officers handcuffing Coco and rounding up others for transport.

  It was a smart move. One we had worked out beforehand so my cover wouldn't be blown. Taking me away in a car played well. Just like everybody else, I was hauled off and dealt with. And just like everybody else, I'd slink through the system and be defecated back into Skid Row, ready to start another day.

  Well, not everybody else. The unis wouldn't let any of the others go until they got my word.

  "Get these zip ties off me," I said, realizing for the first time that my arms were locked behind my back. The sergeant had applied them so deftly that I never noticed. Or maybe the knock on the back of my head made me sloppy.

  "One second," replied the officer. I didn't think I'd ever seen him before. After some chatter on the radio, he pulled into a warehouse and the door rolled down behind him. When he parked, a woman opened my door and helped me out. I didn't say a thing until the uni came around and cut my ties.

  * * *

  "What happened out there, Danvers?" demanded my boss. She was all business, all the time. Too impatient for my liking. It took me a moment to adjust to hearing my real last name instead of a reference to my shoes.

  I rubbed my sore wrists. "Did you get Coco, Lieutenant? Please tell me you have him in a squad car."

  "Who the hell is Coco?" she asked.

  "Male, black, thirty-something. The one I said had the knife."

  Lieutenant Halleran looked to the uni who'd transported me. He nodded. "Yes, Lieutenant. We have him."

  I spoke enthusiastically. "It's a wavy knife. I'm sure the medical examiner will match it to the wounds on the victims."

  "I..." stammered the uniform.

  Halleran glared. "What is it, Cantor?"

  "Well, it's just that, we didn't see a knife."

  "What?" I bellowed. The officer called Sergeant Lima on his radio and I snatched it from his hand. "Sergeant, please tell me you've found the knife."

  A beat.

  "I'm sorry, Detective, we haven't recovered any weapons yet."

  "He tossed it," I explained. "Keep looking. Check the other side of the fence."

  "Yes, sir."

  I threw the radio back. "It makes sense if it was him, LT. I haven't identified him yet. He had the knife. He's into the voodoo scene." I paced around the small warehouse as I considered the best play. "At the very least we have him on assault. Get me in a room with him."

  The lieutenant shook her head. "Your cover is still intact. I don't want to make any assumptions that will jeopardize the progress we've made. If Coco's blood isn't a match then the real killer's still out there. You should return to Fifth Street and keep watching."

  "But Lieutenant, I haven't gotten anywhere in—" And that's when it hit me. "Wait a minute. What blood match?"

  Halleran looked at me like somebody who'd been holding out. She didn't know it, but if she ever sat down at the poker table, I'd clean her out. "There's been a development," she said.

  I brushed my gaze over the uniform and stepped closer to my boss. "What kind of development?"

  "Detective Kim found someone else's blood."

  Kim was my partner. He was a good guy but a little too young and a little too clean cut to blend in on the streets. It didn't help that he couldn't grow a beard. "Whose blood? Where? I told you those techs were phoning it in."

  Now Lieutenant Halleran needed a moment. "The scenes were a mess. You know that. There was no way to test every drop of blood present. The technicians took their samples and washed the rest of it away. But Kim went back and retested all the samples. He had a theory about the heroin levels in the sixth victim."

  "And?"

  "The theory didn't pan out. But we got a different hit of DNA. Human blood that didn't belong to the victim."

  "Why wasn't I brought in on this?"

  Halleran sighed. She knew I was senior enough to be given the whole picture. She'd done this to me before and it was eroding whatever good will was still left between us. "Your cover was too important."

  "To the case or to the media?"

  "Detective Danvers!" Lieutenant Halleran became indignant and I was sorry I asked the question. We could settle our differences later. For now, I just wanted to tie this case up and take a hot shower.

  "I'm sorry, LT. We need to recheck the rest of the blood. See if we get any more hits."

  She nodded. "Yes, Detective. We're already in the process."

  "And you might as well check against the whole voodoo crew. Tanner wasn't present for all the murders, but it's possible he ordered them. He certainly seems to know about the circle of power." Halleran's face clouded. "He has another man close to him besides Coco. Should be watching the Indian Alley shop for the day. Pick him up too, although you might have a hard time collecting his DNA without—"

  I stopped when I noticed the lieutenant's expression. "What is it?" I asked.

  "Tanner," she mumbled, picking up her phone and studying the reports. "Where have I heard that—"

  "He's the shaman!" I screamed. "Papa Tanner. We cleared him already but that may have been a mistake. You have him in a squad car right now."

  I hissed at the incompetence. No one knew the locals as well as I did, which was fine, but Halleran was a part-time investigator. I would have felt better if Kim was watching my back, and he was the newest detective in the unit.

  Halleran's voice lowered to a murmur. "Detective, we don't have anyone else in custody. Our backup units were responding to another call and the sergeant wasn't holding anyone else of note at the scene."

  I didn't know what else to do but fume silently. Tanner should have been picked up. He was instrumental in the incident, maybe more so than Coco.

  "You're telling me no one else is being transported?"

  "That's what I'm telling you. Yes."

  "I need to get back on the streets," I said quietly.

  "Yes, Detective, that's what I've been saying."

  "No," I countered. "You don't get it. You need to get out there too. Set up a raid. If the sergeant didn't take anyone else for a ride, that means Kerry's still out there. With Tanner and his men on the streets, Kerry won't live through the night."

  * * *

  Being impatient sometimes had its perks. The lieutenant wasted no time mobilizing into the Nickel. Begrudgingly following orders, I waited in the back of a black SWAT van while the elite unit raided the tenement building I knew Tanner hid out in. If he had Kerry, some of his men would be around too. That meant it was dangerous, and keeping me on hold was the best play. But that didn't mean I had to like it. Skid Row was my turf now. These were my people. I felt I deserved a hand in ending this.

  "First floor clear," came the voice over the radio. "Echo Team, respond."

  "The top is clear too, sir. We checked through to the roof."

  "Copy that. We're heading into the basement."

  I leaned forward as I imagined what the men saw down there. Dark, musty halls littered with the dregs of society. Every single movement a threat. That environment was a haystack for the shaman. But SWAT was nothing if not methodical. A line of brash men who would search every square foot of that place and look each despondent in the face. They knew what Tanner looked like; his size made it hard to hide. If he was in there, it was only a matter of time.

  "Chick
ens," said the team leader.

  I pulled the radio to my lips. "What's that?"

  "Chickens," he repeated. "And lizards and snakes in cages. And powders and ointments. This is a storeroom. It stinks to high heaven down here."

  "What about the men?" I asked. "The shaman Tanner?"

  "It's clear. No one's here."

  And that's when I knew tonight was the night. Tanner never left his place unguarded. He may have stepped out but his men would have kept watch. They were either on the run or into something important, and maybe both at the same time.

  "Did you see Kerry down there?" I tried hopelessly. "Were there any prisoners?"

  "Negative, Detective. We have a few strays in custody but no targets of importance."

  I double-checked the gun in my holster and hopped from the back of the van. It was against orders but I didn't care anymore. The raid was over. The operation would turn into a street search, and that would take time. I realized I could find Tanner by finding Kerry. And I just happened to know where the old man kept his hooch.

  * * *

  Have you ever been in the back lot of a grocery store at night? Not the front where the shoppers park. The back, where the trucks unload during the day, where everything's surrounded by concrete walls and buildings and there's only one way in or out.

  Try it sometime in an impoverished neighborhood and you might just realize it's one of the scariest places to be alone.

  I ran along the storage containers to cover my approach. Past that, I stuck to the wall of the building. There was no security lighting out here, not in the Nickel, but as soon as I turned the corner I was exposed. Against the far wall of patchwork concrete, I recognized two slouched figures.

  Without hesitation I radioed my location and had my gun in my hand. People like to say we're heroes but I didn't feel like one. Just 'cause I wanted a hand in closing this didn't mean I was a cowboy. I was determined to check things out but would feel better with my boys behind me.

  The two men were motionless and I slowly approached. Kerry was hunched over, facing me with his head drooped. A large man was splayed out beside him. It was Tanner.

  "LAPD!" I yelled. "Nobody move!"

  It was a wasted gesture. If anybody else had been here, they were long gone. The only two men in my company were safely in sight. And neither responded.

  I converged on them to study the scene. The shaman was on his side, a glass pipe next to his still form. I leaned in to check Kerry and recoiled when the old man jerked awake with a whimper.

  "He was gonna kill me," he groaned. My gun flew to face the old man. "I stabbed him with his own knife. He was gonna kill me."

  Kerry's face was worn. It looked older than I'd ever seen it. Strangely, and for the first time, he appeared sober. But it didn't suit him. He was a wreck.

  I pointed my firearm at Tanner and pressed the tip of my All Stars to his side. He rolled onto his back. "Is he dead?" I asked, but already knew the answer. Kerry made a sobbing sound and I strained my eyes to see in the dark. I wished I'd brought my flashlight.

  I leaned over the shaman. His large mass didn't rise and fall with breath. Blood ran down the sleeve of his dirty white shirt. The wound was a knife slash, but didn't appear to be the cause of death. It hadn't hit an artery. There wasn't enough blood. I was more concerned with the sheen of yellowish powder that covered his face. This may have been a struggle, but the white spittle seeping down the man's cheeks told a different story.

  Poison.

  It only took a second to add up the pieces. The math was bad.

  "Kerry," I said, scanning the ground. "Where's the knife?"

  Every instinct I had as a detective screamed at me to protect my back. I spun around and saw the incoming blade. My left forearm shot up to deflect it. Kerry's swing pulled away smoothly and I knew it cut deep. But at least it had missed my body.

  My other hand drew my service weapon to firing position as Kerry put his palm to his mouth and blew a cloud of powder into my eyes. I squeezed two shots off and backed up, tripping over Tanner's body. I stumbled away on the floor, and Kerry watched with a subdued smile.

  "Get on the floor!" I ordered. My gun was still raised but the night became hazy, my hand heavy. I wiped the powder from my face and spit it from my mouth.

  Kerry quietly took a step backward. I thought I had shot him.

  "Officer down!" I yelled into my radio. "I need immediate assistance."

  I couldn't say for sure, but the fog in my head seemed to clear. I shook it away some more and focused on staying awake.

  "It was you all along," I hissed.

  The old man clutched his chest weakly. He took one more step back and I saw the dead chicken behind him. He was now standing in a circle of power.

  "So Tanner was right about the blood magic."

  "I didn't want to kill you, Ricky Kicks," said Kerry in a heavy voice. "But Papa, he went and died on me."

  I glanced at the dead man. His face was frozen in twisted pain, but his vacant eyes told of horrors much worse.

  "What did you do to us?" I demanded.

  "Nothing, Ricky. Just some intoxicating powders to slow your senses. You'll be fine."

  "But Tanner—"

  "Papa Tanner didn't lie about knowing voodoo. He saw his fate and poisoned himself before I could take him."

  I jerked my gun back up when I noticed it slipping. My free hand felt for the slowing pulse at my neck. Something told me to finish off the old man right then and there. Just pop a couple more into him. But somehow I knew it didn't matter. It was already done.

  Kerry shook his head sadly and removed his hand from his chest. A bright, gaping wound shone in the moonlight. The old man collapsed to his hands and knees.

  "How did you do it?" I asked. "You were in lockup for the first two murders."

  He chuckled. "Papa Tanner already told you the answer, Ricky Kicks. The circle of power strengthens the spirit, not the body."

  "I told you I don't believe in magic."

  Kerry's humor grew into a bold laugh, but that suddenly cut into a hacking cough. Blood sprayed from the old man's mouth onto the street. I heard sirens in the distance. And strangely, I began to feel better. Maybe the powder hadn't hit me that hard.

  "Was it worth it, Kerry?" I sat up and drew my blood-stained All Stars beneath me, but stopped short of standing. I was still a little dizzy. "You kill everyone that catches you stealing or gets in your way in the Nickel? Or was there a deeper reason?"

  Kerry's blank expression was only broken by a measured blink.

  I scowled as I watched the dying man. "You didn't need to waste your life like this." With a grunt, I rose to my feet.

  Kerry raised the blade in his hand, stubby but with a menacing hook, already awash with blood. Tanner's blood, I thought. No. My blood. But I didn't even bother to raise my weapon. He was too weak to move and I was at a safe distance.

  "In the end," I said, "the only thing you accomplished was your own death."

  His lips quivered. "No, Ricky Kicks. You do not see. Death is only the beginning."

  Kerry stabbed the knife into his left side, straight and deep. In a practiced motion, he traced a smile through his belly. Gas escaped as his bowels spilled to the pavement, but the hiss of his breath was louder still. Then, like all the victims before him, Kerry slumped to the floor, blood pooling onto the circle of power.

  I stared at his lifeless husk and saw the crime scene as all the others had been, save for the anomaly of the dead shaman. I wondered: if Kerry was just another of the victims, then who was the killer? I could almost see the red and blue lights of my backup as I considered that.

  * * *

  "Congratulations on this bust," said Lieutenant Halleran, peeking over the paramedics. "It looks like the shaman was the target the entire time. This whole thing must have been about spooking him out of Skid Row and taking control."

  "Let me through," insisted Detective Kim. He hustled over and brushed the paramedics aside. "I
s Danvers okay?"

  The paramedics didn't bother to face him. "Detective, let us work. He's under the effects of a sedative that entered his bloodstream through his eyes."

  "What kind of sedative? What does that mean?"

  "We don't know yet. His blood pressure is low but stable."

  Detective Kim placed his hand on his partner's shoulder. Danvers lay silently, taking it all in. The cut on his arm was deeper than anticipated—the wound had only been meant to draw blood—yet he was in good hands.

  "You'll be fine, Detective," affirmed Halleran. "You're receiving a commendation for your work. You'll be on stage with the chief himself."

  Kim studied the spectacle with a troubling glower. "Lieutenant, the techs just found another DNA match. A small amount of David Blake's blood was recovered at Sally Rider's crime scene. Victim six was present for victim five's homicide, except there's nothing to indicate a link between the two."

  Halleran was unimpressed. "You can include the details in your report, Detective, but for now—"

  "Now is what's important. What happened here? Both these men were ruled out as the killer. Neither could have been present at all the murders."

  The woman puffed her cheeks out. "If Kerry was the killer, no doubt he had help. If this was a coup in the voodoo community, I'd bet that our friend Coco in lockup was his accomplice."

  "But that doesn't make sense, Lieutenant. If the goal was to kill Tanner, why go through six months of killing to do it?"

  "To strike fear into any detractors," she answered. "All that blood magic mumbo jumbo was a message to the community. And now the LAPD will make its own message: Violence will not be tolerated, from the highest hills to the most impoverished slums."

  Kim released his partner as the paramedics loaded him into the truck.

  "Cheer up," ordered Lieutenant Halleran. "You're taking point on this crime scene. Bottle everything and finish what the two of you started. You should be proud of your work. And when you're clear here, meet your partner in the hospital. He's gonna need your support."