Death March: Black Magic Outlaw Read online

"Gendra!"

  The young girl was dazed, curly black hair hiding her eyes. I dropped to my knees and grabbed her in a mighty hug. Then I checked her face, neck, and arms for signs of abuse. I didn't find any physical damage, but it was obvious her head had been messed with.

  As a few more people shuffled from the holding cell, Darcy returned. Her grim expression as she saw the two kids broke my heart. Not because she was shocked, but because she wasn't. Darcy was only eighteen and had already seen so much of the world that the lucky ones managed to avoid. I could only imagine what Gendra and the others were going through.

  Darcy took the two middle schooler's hands and filed them out the back door with the last of them. I swallowed hard as Kasper approached the last door at the end of the hall.

  Suddenly, the music stopped. Although it was probably just someone hitting pause on an iPhone, it had the dramatic effect of a record scratch. We froze and looked around. The only sound was the last of the victims shuffling to safety.

  A concussive bang ripped a basketball-sized hole in the door. Kasper recoiled as blue runes all over his body flared. I charged past him and fired the shotgun, creating my own hole in the door and igniting it for good measure. Kasper and I swung sideways into opposite rooms for cover. I dispersed my sword and cracked my shotgun in half to reload.

  Another blast powered through the door. Darcy was near the back door holding her statue to cover those retreating from errant projectiles. I pulled a couple of green eggs into my palm—sickening agents. After the next blast I spun into the hall and tossed them through what remained of the door. Shuffling movement was followed by retching and coughs. I emptied a container of snake dust into a palm and stomped up the hallway. I released a shell of fireshot to clear the way and dropped the shotgun into my shadow box. I kicked down the door and clapped my hands together, throwing a cloud of chalky bone dust into the room.

  A vampire darted for me. I blended into the shadow and sidestepped as she flew past. I solidified and tossed the moccasin fangs deep into the room. The mask I wore filtered the toxins from my breath. Shadows swirled as I retreated.

  Kasper swiped at the vampire who darted into the hall. She rolled under the ax and raked his stomach. The blow barely pushed him back. The old man kneed her in the face. Her head banged against the wall. He swung the ax and she attempted to spin away. It would've been easy with her heightened reflexes had Darcy not been pinning her down. Her skull split in two. Kasper yanked the blade out and reversed the blow to bury it in her heart.

  Meanwhile, phantom snakes slithered through the smoke-filled room. They snapped and struck the defenders with ghostly fervor. Several vampires spilled into the sweet release of the hallway. I kicked a Mossberg out of my face and shoved them past, waiting for Tutti to clear the room. Each successive escapee increased my disappointment. With the others squaring off in the hallway, I dove back into the poisoned room.

  Shadow filled my eyes, but there was enough smoke to keep my vision clouded. Strangely, the sounds of combat were muffled. I stepped forward, pleased to find a cage locked over the front door. Nobody had exited this way.

  I took another step and ducked as black fingers nearly decapitated me. I dashed behind my attacker and pulled the darkness to my fist, but the black beast leapt out of the way. She came back with an almost full-grown arm. Despite her blackened carapace, I knew this was Tutti. I batted it away with my forearmor and slugged her in the jaw. Her shiny head snapped toward me and I slugged her again. She fell to her side, head down. An animalistic canine tooth bounced on the tile.

  Enchanted slithers surrounded her. Tutti hollered and uselessly swiped the air. Gagging, she clawed the floor and crawled away from the poison. The vampire emerged into the back hall just in time for her last ally to burst all over her face. She hissed.

  I put my boot on her back and shoved Tutti to the floor. Her black carapace melted away and she looked human again. She turned puppy dog eyes to Kasper. "Please! Please help me. He's hurting me." Kasper swallowed hard as energy tickled the air. "Please, mister! I'll do anything you want." I held a glowing purple darksword over the vampire boss as Kasper approached.

  "Honey, even if I wanted the dirtiest, stankiest sex I could imagine, I'd only touch you to kill you." He curb-stomped her face into the floor. "That's for blowing up my house."

  I defused my magic and leaned down, worried he'd killed her. She was out cold, but she wasn't dead. Tougher than human.

  "I'll take her from here," said Darcy. Tutti's unconscious body unceremoniously slid along the floor.

  The three of us lumbered outside, victorious. Even Thumper had a jubilant hop in his step. Our actions, however, had attracted an audience. Most bystanders attended the victims, but a few others noticed the three figures exiting the smoking back doorway wearing masks. Gendra stood beside a middle-aged couple with a stroller. The husband was doubtless on the phone with the cops. A few punks with bleached hair had no problem manning up to our presence. I pointed my empty shotgun to stall their approach before lifting Tutti over my shoulder and hauling ass down the block.

  Chapter 45

  I dumped Tutti in the back seat of the Firebird. She was already stirring. Darcy stood outside the car to hold her in place while I pinched some sleep toxin over her face. After inhaling some she nearly took a bite out of me. She was still lucid. I tried another dose but she wasn't having it. The vampire had displayed incredible resilience against my powders back in the brothel too.

  "It's no good. You're gonna have to hold her in place, Darcy."

  "One of you is gonna need to take my bike, then." We traded keys. I felt slightly self-conscious about the David Hasselhoff key chain. She ignored it and eyed the Firebird instead. "I've been wondering what it's like to drive this thing."

  "Whoa," I cut in. "What are you doing?"

  "What?"

  "You need to concentrate on the vampire."

  "I can do both." Her expression was indignant.

  "Yeah, 'cause a distracted teenager driving a fast car has never ended tragically. Besides, I can drive and Kasper can take the bike."

  The old man raised a finger. "Actually, broham, choppers are more my speed, and it's been a looong time since I've gotten behind the wheel of a Trans Am." He held out his palm expectantly. Darcy tossed him my keys.

  "Fine, old man, but only 'cause I like you."

  I straddled the bright-red race bike and waited for them to pull out. It had been a while since I'd sat on one of these as well, but my body hugged it like a second skin. More muscle memory from my days as a thrall. Kasper redlined the V8 and peeled down the street with an enthusiastic hoot. The smell of exhaust and burning rubber followed.

  "I should've let the teenager drive."

  I set Thumper in my lap and revved the bike a few times, getting a feel for the throttle. The tire gripped the road and pent-up torque shot me off the line. Once on the road I settled into a reasonable cruising speed. As the spotter, it was my responsibility to keep an eye out for trouble. No black minivans. No vamps. Not even any speed traps. I relaxed as we rolled through Downtown Miami and entered Brickell.

  It was a nice night with the wind in my face. Somewhere in that zone between cold and hot where the breeze wasn't necessary but still a welcome bonus. It made me briefly consider getting a bike of my own. I abandoned the thought as I rolled to a stop behind my own car. In neutral, Kasper gassed the Firebird and she answered with a throaty rumble. What a beauty. Race bikes were nice, but it was hard to beat an American classic.

  The light turned green and Kasper gunned it. About to pursue, I halted the flick of my wrist when I saw it: a pitch-black owl with large orange eyes landed on a nearby ledge. Now, I'm no NatGeo expert but I do know a thing or two about the local wildlife due to my stint in the Glades, and black owls are pretty much not a thing. Not only that, but my background and body of experience clued me in to the supernatural significance of owls. As if to confirm my unnerving suspicions, the bird of prey seemed to bore into
my soul.

  The eyes sent a shiver down my spine. It took a second to hit me. I'd seen those eyes before. Malformed, cursed orbs. Of course, the man didn't possess eyes as starkly orange, but the large irises and wide pupils were identical. It brought Darcy's collision with a mysterious black form into perspective.

  "Manifesto."

  I pulled the motorcycle to the curb, cursing as Kasper sped away, showboating. I reached for my phone but the owl took flight down the cross street. I couldn't let it get away. With a hiss, I roared after it.

  The owl landed at two other spots on the way. When I neared it took off again. It not only knew I was following—it was leading me by the nose. Just a few short blocks from where I'd first spotted it, the bird flew into a gated construction site, out of sight. I parked the bike and waited, but it was gone.

  Large, half-built skyscrapers towered over my head. Two heavy-duty cranes stretched even higher, their crossbeams slicing the night sky. This lot was the second phase of the new Brickell City Centre, one of those mixed-use residence/shopping spaces that was all the rage these days. It was a huge multi-block square that would one day be full of life and energy. For now it was an empty blight in the Downtown landscape.

  I hit the kickstand and sucked my teeth. It was one in the morning. Bars and lounges were open just a few blocks away. What was going on here? The deserted construction site had all the trappings of the climax to an eighties movie.

  I recited the serial killer's last message aloud. "Keep a fixed eye for it." This was Manifesto's invitation. It was a final showdown all right.

  I brought out my phone to text the group but paused. I was sometimes unsure where to draw the line with the information I gave Evan. He had an obligation to uphold the law. Telling him the truth often put him in compromising situations. I backed out of the group-chat app and texted Kasper directly.

  "Taking detour. Make sure Beaumont gets Tutti."

  I cradled the rabbit in my arm and dismounted. The street was dark, with only sparse spots of lighting. A high fence with a cloth wrapping skirted the property, but there were rips and tears in it. I dove through the shadow and the chain link and appeared on the other side with Thumper.

  Leveled terrain, huge concrete foundations, parked construction vehicles. The skeleton of an enormous building towered above. It was about what I expected.

  I set the marsh rabbit down to scout ahead. A nagging feeling tugged at me. I was alone, playing into Manifesto's hands. I twiddled the phone in my palm and wondered if I was making a mistake. I grappled with the decision as my pet bounded ahead.

  Screw it. They're my bros. Either I trusted them or I didn't. I opened the group chat and typed, "I think Manifesto's at the City Centre construction lot. Checking it out."

  A sudden squawk scraped my ears. Claws raked my hand. The black owl's wings didn't flap until it was in my face, harassing me. I ducked into the shadow and recoiled, but the damn thing had swiped the phone from my hands.

  I solidified a few feet away, phone tumbling in the air. The owl screeched and caught it in deft talons before flapping away. I lunged but the hunter made the sky in a blink.

  "Damn it!" I hadn't sent the message yet. I'd typed it up but hadn't sent it. My friends didn't know where I was.

  I clutched the top of my hand. A gash was open across the surface. I balled my fist tight as the wound seemed to steam for a moment. Manifesto was determined to keep this an intimate affair. I was willing to comply.

  The first thing I did was sprint to the safety of the building structure. The first-floor ceiling was high, making it possible but difficult for the bird of prey to dive-bomb me. I imagined this space the center of a lobby not unlike the welcoming center of my own condo. Either that or a Chipotle. I crouched against a support pillar and squeezed a tube of gel on my wound. The toxin burned at my blood and I bit down. The pain was worth it. It guaranteed nothing else would be infecting my bloodstream.

  I closed my eyes to scout ahead. Nothing came to me. I scrunched my brow and brought the silver whistle around my neck to my lips. A gentle blow that only the undead could hear. Thumper didn't answer. Not only was he dead, but he'd been dispelled without me noticing. That had never happened before.

  I chided myself. I was distracted or wound up or something. Not an ideal way to start a showdown. I tugged my shotgun from the shadow and loaded it with a fire round. I slipped two plastic red shells in the sidesaddle on the stock. Even though I planned on facing Manifesto, I wasn't taking any chances.

  Glancing back and forth, I considered my next move. It was dark enough out here that I was relying on my ensorcelled eyes to see at any distance. I wouldn't have a problem with access to my shotgun wherever there was shadow. At the same time I wasn't sure what spellcraft, if any, would be effective against Manifesto. The spark powder was magic, but it was also a chemical reaction that resulted in fire. More to the point, there was enough buckshot left in the cartridge to perforate anything I could get a bead on. I gripped the shotty in my right hand, held my left ready, and advanced through the steel and concrete husk.

  My boots scraped grit and grime. They were lonely sounds. It was impossible to stifle my presence completely without going shoeless, and I wasn't about to do that with scraps of metal and glass lying about. My opponent most likely had a pistol on him. I just needed to gamble that he wouldn't get a good enough drop on me to do damage. At least not before I could return fire.

  I passed a wall that opened up on the far side of the building. A small form was ripping at the ground ahead. I aimed and pulled the trigger in a blink. A cone of fire engulfed the nearby room and tracers barreled into the night, narrowly missing the owl. With the decreased powder and reduced buckshot, it was no surprise I missed at this range. The bird flapped away in a mad scramble and was gone, off to one of the many floors above me. Instead of reloading from the emergency saddle, I pulled another fire round from my belt pouch and slipped it into the breach.

  I approached the edge of the building cautiously. As soon as I stepped out I'd be opening myself up to attack from above. Then again, the bird would be easily shredded by my twenty-gauge. If the thing had any rational thought whatsoever—and my experience thus far hinted that it did—it would sit back while I held the weapon. These shotties were practically engineered for popping birds from the air. Even though I didn't have a proper shell of birdshot, I was good enough to make up for the deficit if it made the mistake of closing in.

  At the building's edge, a breeze of open air greeted me. At my feet, where the owl had been feasting, lay the remains of Thumper. The zombification process had stalled the putrefaction, but nothing could change the fact that he'd been dead for months. Either the black owl was ravenous or it wasn't a normal owl at all.

  I pulled the silver whistle to my mouth and attempted to reach out to the bird. If it was an undead thrall, I should be able to feel a remote connection to its master. I didn't get anything at all. I could only conclude the thing was alive.

  I lifted the mask over my nose again to take advantage of what little protection it offered. It sounds silly until you have a bird clawing at your face. I wished I had protective glasses as well, but it couldn't be helped. I leapt from my shelter to the outskirts of the building, sawed-off braced against my shoulder and pointing up in case the owl came swooping in.

  Just as I'd expected, it was sitting this one out.

  "Wizard," called Manifesto.

  My weapon swung to the courtyard. My concrete structure was only one of several lining the block. They framed a wide center expanse. Like the park Milena and I had visited, this courtyard sloped down. A concrete platform rested a story below, no doubt waiting to be filled in with a raised park, fountains and trolleys, and whatever else executives figured increased foot traffic.

  Unlike at the park, however, a set of flood lights circled and pointed into the depression. The high-powered beacons at multiple angles killed almost all the shadow in the courtyard.

  Manifesto stood
in the center of the pit beside a dump truck with a tire as tall as him. I raised my weapon to cover him and he slipped behind it.

  "I thought we should talk, you and I," he proclaimed.

  Chapter 46

  My eyes scanned the courtyard perimeter and the surrounding buildings. Level upon level of unglassed stories surrounded us. Good perches for snipers, if Manifesto was a tactical man. I didn't think he was up to it, personally. This was his calling. He worked alone. Barring the owl, of course, but I was beginning to wonder about the damn thing.

  I transferred my grip to the sawed-off barrel and used my other hand to steady my descent. Slow and stable, I watched Manifesto from a distance. He waited without movement. I had no idea what gave him such supreme confidence.

  My boot caught a loose bunch of gravel. The slope gave way and I slipped. As my hand skewed to the air for balance, the owl swooped in and tore my weapon free. I tumbled to the bottom and turned just in time to see it flying away, shotgun in its claws like a helpless field mouse. Maybe I should've kept it in the shadow box after all.

  I growled in frustration. That meant Manifesto wasn't the owl. Another possible theory shot down. When dealing with the unknown, guesswork was part of the business. I had other guesses too. The problem was, I was running out of them.

  As I tracked the surprisingly silent flight of the predator, my field of view crossed over a floodlight. Now that I was in the lowered courtyard, the massive downward beams shone directly on me. I squeezed the shadow from my eyes before it blinded me. I wouldn't need the hyperawareness here.

  I faced the dump truck. Manifesto stood beside it patiently, hands clasped behind his back. I rotated in a circle, taking in the whole courtyard depression, feeling like a speck under the looming towers and cranes. With the overhead lights dimming anything outside our makeshift arena, the structures seemed to stretch into infinity.

  If I'd prepped and positioned a few undead sentries at strategic points in the rafters, I'd have eyes on the whole battlefield. The black owl wouldn't be able to surprise me like that.