Death March: Black Magic Outlaw Read online

  I gulped the suds and started the story. At first, everybody listened in rapt attention. They all wanted the deets on my encounter with Manifesto: the man, the myth, the legend, but especially the enigma. Unfortunately, his end was as esoteric as his beginning. It was hard to decrypt the ravings of a sociopathic killer, and I wasn't so sure it was worth trying.

  As soon as I got to the part where everybody introduced themselves, they headed out, one by one. That story was old news to them. By the time I finished the whole shebang, Milena and I sat alone on the couch.

  "Look at you," she said. "Becoming quite the leader."

  I scoffed. "I'm not a leader. I'm just a guy who doesn't like being pushed around."

  She gave me a peck on the cheek. "Same difference."

  I mused thoughtfully over everything that had happened as Milena scoured my tablet for the latest news. "Downtown shootout." "Major gun battle echoed through Brickell today." "Police fired upon and killed the Manifesto Killer." Information was sparse but coming in quick. Only half of it was factual.

  I started to wear down after the long night. Here I was, spending quality time with Milena, and I was too exhausted to make a move. I watched her beautiful brown eyes as they reflected the light of the tablet.

  "Mierda," she cursed. "I think you need to see this, Cisco."

  She played a high-definition video of the scene at the construction site.

  "Breaking news: Our very own cameraman, kidnapped by the Manifesto Killer, has returned with shocking and exclusive footage of his final confrontation."

  The video was angled above Manifesto, facing into the brightly lit courtyard from the third story of the building where I'd found the chair and bindings.

  "In order to respect the privacy of an ongoing investigation, we're not releasing the name of the cameraman, but we can report that he is safe. Nathan Bartlett Jones captured and forced him to record a bewildering spectacle."

  A figure stepped into frame and my jaw dropped. Cisco Suarez calmly approached the Manifesto Killer, except billowing shadow encircled me. Just as with the security footage Rita had shown me, and despite standing in sharp lighting this go around, and not remembering having done it, the shadow obscured my identity. I appeared humanoid, for sure, but overall on video I didn't look very... human.

  "I don't know what we're witnessing here," said the commentator. "A Shadow Man, of some sort. Some kind of strange liquid or energy coating is pulsing off him."

  The full color of my turquoise shield was followed by my ghostly dash under the dump truck. I was shocked. It was plain as day in full HD. My on-camera speech was muted as I mostly faced away, but Manifesto called out in crisp syllables, every word perfectly enunciated for an audience.

  After the very brief struggle, Manifesto sat on his haunches and directly faced the camera. "My life will be eternal," he proclaimed.

  I had turned to follow his gaze after that. For a split second the camera recorded the best view of my face. I could almost see a masked man if I knew what to look for, but it was a stretch. I hoped a positive ID was impossible.

  The video cut out when Manifesto spiked a knife into his wrist. The commentator explained the scene in lurid detail without broadcasting it. I stopped listening. Complete stupor overtook me.

  This had been Manifesto's endgame all along. He'd resolved to out spellcraft. We had stopped the killings, solved his puzzles, and cleaned up his tracks—and at the last second he played a gambit which made none of it matter. It was a masterful stroke.

  "He wanted to be a sacrifice," I growled. "He wanted to show the world what he was willing to do for attention."

  My face sank into my hands. An overwhelming victory had flipped into near disaster. The public now knew the police didn't kill Manifesto. They knew someone was out there. Spellcraft would dominate the national media and focus on the Shadow Man, on me. I was a spectator sport all over again.

  The shadows tickled me. As Milena scrolled through posted stills of the event, I couldn't get over the cloak that had hidden me the whole way through. One image in particular drew my attention. Right before I'd ducked under the dump truck, the shadow had spread to either side of me, almost like...

  "The Wings of Night," I muttered.

  "The whats of who?"

  I shook my head. "Something changed after I visited the underworld. The flow of shadow is more direct through my body, like an artery. I can do things that weren't possible before." I frowned at the dark envelope that smothered my video persona. "Apparently I can even do things without actively trying."

  She pressed her lips together, unsure what to say but resting a hand on my lap.

  "Put it away," I said.

  She set the tablet aside and leaned on me.

  "I don't think today could get any worse."

  Milena rubbed my back sympathetically. "That's a good thing when you think about it. It's only up from here."

  I worked my jaw as Milena tried to comfort me, dreading the impending visit from Special Agent Rita Bell.

  "Did you hear what I said?" asked Milena.

  I jerked, realizing I'd zoned out. "Huh?"

  "I broke up with Gavin last night."

  I blinked in confusion.

  "Last night," she explained. "It's why I wanted to meet him so fast after our date. I figured... he's a really good guy but I wanted to do what felt natural rather than push things. Life's too short, you know?"

  My mouth froze open as I took it in. Milena had her arm around me. Our faces were close. She cared about what I was going through. She was here for me. "You didn't roofie my beer, did you?"

  She laughed and pretended to take offense. She sat up straight, arching her back and puffing her chest out. "I'd like to think I don't need to—"

  I tackled her onto the couch before she could finish. Our lips locked and we kissed hard, pent-up worry and rage and adrenaline and even exhaustion giving way to one forceful expression. Milena moaned as I pushed my body into hers. She angled her leg around and locked ankles behind my back. I could feel her heat. She wanted me. Her nipples perked through her bra.

  I paused and backed away for one aching moment. Milena watched me expectantly, eyes blinking slowly, breath baited.

  "Sorry in advance," I said with a smile, "but I always wanted to do this."

  "Do wha—?"

  I grabbed her red shirt by the collar and tore it off. She yelped as it ripped away, exposing the black lacy bra she'd definitely meant to show off. She hurried to unhook it before I tore that off too. Her full breasts quivered in glorious freedom. I caressed them. She was everything I wanted in my life, heaving breathless beneath me. I leaned in for a gentle kiss, snaking my lips from her nipple and up her neck. Then we smiled at each other, face to face, lips barely touching.

  Milena kissed me and said, "This feels natural."

  I picked her off the couch, carried her not-so-gently to the bedroom, and slammed the door.

  Chapter 50

  The night was heaven. We went so fierce and hard that I reopened a few wounds. I should've looked to them better, but nothing was more important to me than living in that moment. After we lay spent and panting on the bed, we chatted a while. We laughed about our lives and everything we'd been through. We kissed, barely able to get enough of each other, and then we made love again. Gently this time. Measured and easy, savoring every moment.

  I was so damned exhausted I didn't remember falling asleep. I woke in the morning with Milena at my side, not a worry on my mind. I beamed as she slept. Sleeping in late and hitting up a fancy brunch was fine by me.

  It was a nice fantasy until someone pounded on my door. I shoved on underwear and a pair of jeans and answered.

  "You don't pick up your phone anymore?" snapped Simon Feigelstock. His wingtips and pinstripes and briefcase at this early hour were hard to shake.

  "I thought you left town."

  He shrugged and wagged a finger. "Something you should know about me. I don't always do as I'm told. I h
ad faith in you. Hey, you mind putting a shirt and shoes on? We have business downstairs. It'll be quick. I promise."

  Half of me wanted to slam the door on his face, but the other half was intrigued by the offer of a speedy resolution. I was willing to skip sleeping in if it meant I could still enjoy pancakes. I returned to the bedroom. Milena was still knocked out well and good. I'd need to tease her about that later. I dressed without waking her and slipped down the elevator with Simon.

  "That was a cool trick," he remarked, "hiding your identity like that."

  I canted my head. I couldn't unravel the mystery myself and didn't try explaining. We exited into the lobby. The morning light hit the walls and furniture at a different angle. The chaos the night before seemed a week old. Once again we headed to the doors of the adjacent coffee house, only this time they were wide open. He ordered two lattes and we sat at a high table.

  "I like this place," he said. "Best coffee in the city."

  "Eh, it's not bad. They could use a colada though."

  He laughed. "Maybe you should do something about that." I watched him strangely as his head snapped away.

  "That was fast," he announced.

  I turned and realized this was an ambush. Special Agent Rita Bell joined us at the table. She was freshly showered and changed, but a new coat of makeup couldn't hide the long night she'd had.

  "You should order some coffee," offered the high-priced lawyer. "It's the best—"

  "Cut the shit," she snapped before zeroing in on me. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

  I sipped my drink. It needed more sugar. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  Annoyance flashed across Simon's face. He raised a hand and said, "I'll be the one doing the speaking, if you don't mind. It's why I'm here." He turned to Rita. "This is a courtesy sit-down, Agent. On behalf of my client, I'd like to say how relieved he is that the threat to his person has been eliminated. The Manifesto Killer is a big win for you."

  "Don't give me that," she said. "We all saw the video in question. What was on it?"

  "Special effects," he assured. "I don't know who rendered that but they did a hell of a job. I'm sure Shadow Man will be Miami's next big urban legend."

  "We both know who the Shadow Man is. It's the second video I have of Cisco."

  Simon frowned. "I don't understand. My client was under police supervision the entire night. I have numerous witnesses who can attest to that."

  "Yeah? I want their names."

  He didn't hesitate to flick open his briefcase and present a slip of paper with said names. I had no idea who was on it. This was Simon's play. This was what he was good at. "I also have Cisco's typed statement detailing Manifesto's attack and the single encounter that followed when the killer knocked on his door."

  "What about the shootout?"

  "My client couldn't hear the reports through the triple-glazed windows of his penthouse. I believe the police are attributing the gunfire to gang activity. You'd need to confirm that with them."

  Rita forced thin lips together. She was a dog with a bone; she refused to bury it, but it was obvious she wasn't ready to chew it up. I suspected Simon had already warned her about harassment and my rights as a victim. There was definitive proof I'd been in Manifesto's crosshairs. With the backing of the local police, the FBI didn't have a lot of room to free-ball this, especially given the unexplainable phenomena.

  She frowned and swiped her buzzing phone. "I'll be watching you, Cisco. This isn't done. I'll have more questions later."

  "You have my number," Simon reminded. "We're happy to cooperate."

  She huffed and stormed off.

  "Wow," I said after another hit of coffee. "That's it?"

  "It hardly ever is, but it will be taken care of. You did what you were asked, Cisco. Darcy checked in. Updated me on your work sanitizing the evidence. It was a job well done, and the Society keeps its promises."

  Carmela Flores had obviously been spying on our exchange because she entered the coffee shop as soon as Agent Bell cleared the building. She dove straight in like a hawk, sharp nose and all. "Mr. Suarez, that strange character you've been employing spent the night at your house. Don't deny it. I saw him leaving this morning."

  "It's a free country last I checked."

  "I've seen the traffic through your home lately. I certainly hope you're not subletting rooms to vagrants. It's against HOA bylaws, you know."

  I ground my teeth. "Could you just leave me alone for a single day, you dried-up c—"

  Simon clapped a hand on my shoulder. "It's okay, Cisco. I invited her."

  Carmela visibly trembled. Her jaw hung idly.

  I blinked. "—Coffee? You tried the coffee?"

  Simon withdrew official documents from his briefcase. "Mrs. Flores, it's my understanding that you've been threatening my client with eviction."

  She swallowed. "As the head of the HOA, it is my—"

  "I've been handling my client's financials," he continued, "and I wish to inform you that Mr. Suarez's full balance on his home loan has been paid off." My eyes widened as he slid over a stack of paper. "He's a full owner now, which grants him additional protections as per his lease agreement. You're no longer able to execute a lien against his home."

  She stiffened uncomfortably as she browsed the documents. Either that or the stick up her ass had shifted. The papers were legit. A full title wasn't included under such short notice, but he'd greased the wheels with letters from the bank.

  "Well," she replied haughtily, "since you're a legal expert you should be aware that Mr. Suarez still needs to abide by the housing regulations. Failure to do so can still result in a lien."

  "Only if you bring it to a vote with the board," he countered.

  She nodded hesitantly. "I sit on the board and my opinion is well respected. Mr. Machado always sides with me. I can call on a vote if I need to."

  "Great!" he chimed. "I'll be there."

  "Well, I—what?"

  He planted more paper before her. "Cisco will be, actually, but as his lawyer I can vote in his stead." She started to object but he steamrolled her. "I know what you're going to say. Residents don't automatically qualify for the HOA board. You should know that my client purchased this coffee shop this morning. As a business owner in the building, he's granted full status on the board. That also means Mr. Machado, our former coffee shop entrepreneur, is no longer on the board to give you an automatic vote."

  Carmela jerked at the sudden news. She opened her mouth a few times and tried to fashion a suitable response. Nothing came. For the first time in my life I saw her speechless. The defeated HOA director finally decided on a terse nod before turning on her heels and clacking away.

  I was still in shock. "I... own... the coffeehouse?"

  He slid the papers to me for signatures. "Hope that's okay. Sorry about the short notice. Your accounts need to be tied to a business venture, and I opted for growing cocoa beans in South America. That's officially how you made your fortune. When I saw that bitch pile onto you last night next to the coffee shop, well, I suppose it was serendipity."

  "You're telling me." I sipped the latte and snickered at his earlier statement. "Maybe I should do something about the colada." He smiled. "I don't know what to say, Simon. You really came through on the financials."

  "You scratch my back..." he said with a full set of teeth.

  "Right."

  I picked at the disposable cup and looked around. I could deal with a joint like this. It was exquisitely normal. A place I could take my daughter. Maybe Kasper could sling ink in the back.

  A legit business. Outlaw Coffee. I liked the sound of that.

  "Great work, Simon," I reiterated. "Also, you're fired." His smug smile vanished. "Don't take it personally. I'm glad everything worked out, but I don't want you or the Society in control of my finances."

  He chuckled. "I can't blame you." He slid over a paper terminating his power of attorney and handed me a pen. By now I had a brick o
f papers to go through with him. He warned that while my money issues were cleared up, aspects of the Manifesto case would still be a headache. Maybe I did need a lawyer a while longer. "Besides," he added, "you're not up for membership in the Society."

  I admitted to being surprised by that.

  "It's not you, Cisco, it's me. But really, it's you. The Society strives for secrecy, and you're too hot right now. You're so hot you're nuclear. When and if you can find a way to keep off the ten o'clock news, we'll lift the hiring freeze."

  I rolled my eyes. These guys really didn't get the message.

  "Until then, my last piece of advice is to slow down. I understand what happened with Connor Hatch. That was personal business. But this vampire stuff, being the local tough guy—in a city this big it's bound to get you torn to scraps and eaten for breakfast. Physically as well as metaphorically. My services will get you through the fallout of Manifesto and establish you as a legal entity, but that's where the charity ends. If the police or feds pick you up for something unrelated, call that guy who advertises on bus benches and rides a Harley. I hear he's used to hard cases."

  After he was gone and my coffee was long empty, I sat pondering the abrupt transition in my life. Cisco Suarez, the upstanding member of society. Very rarely was a fork in one's road so obvious. One promised happiness and a full life, the other a bumpy ride and a possible dead end. It was a lot to think about. Right now, I wanted nothing more than to head upstairs and return to Milena's side.

  Unfortunately, some roads were under construction and riddled with detours. Tutti strolled outside the storefront's window. She was dressed more respectably. Her arm was fully grown back. She still had the pigtails but wore less paint on her face. The vampire in human guise posed outside and winked at me. I tossed the paper cup in the recycle bin and followed her out.

  Unsurprisingly, she led me to Carbon. The steakhouse wasn't open mornings but the front door was unlocked. We passed several employees on the way to Beaumont's VIP table in the back. I didn't sit.