The magic used to turn people into Wights was old, really old, and there was only one person in the whole Chicago who would know anything about this.
Porthos. A Warlock that hated me with the burning desire of seven suns and I wasn't his biggest fan either. Can't blame him, since we've had a few not so pleasant run-ins. Like that time when he dated April for all of twenty minutes.
I was investigating a Warlock who was killing beautiful women, leaving them dismantled. It was a bone chilling case, one of my first as a detective. I found traces of a herb used in making a paralytic potion, that's how I figured it was warlock. Round about that same time April went on a date with a guy she had met a few blocks away from her magic supply store.
We had finally after months and months found a lead that led us to a restaurant in uptown, the same restaurant April and her date were at. Although I did not know about April and her date at that particular moment in time. We went undercover, not knowing what to expect. And I definitely did not expect to find April there, one thing led to another which led to me punching Porthos in the face and arresting him. Later that same night the killer struck again, which left me feeling like a complete ass, something I would never admit. Of course, that was only the first of many more horrible run-ins that led to our hostile relationship.
"Why are you here, entaché? I could swear I had just taken out the trash." He said opening the door before I knocked.
Entaché is French for tainted. Porthos was originally from the French quarter of New Orleans. When I previously asked why he called me that, he said my soul was tainted by Darkness. Whatever the hell that meant.
"Porthos, I'm going to ignore that not so subtle insult and move on. I need to ask you a few questions."
Porthos didn't look anything like what I'd imagined a voodoo warlock would look like. He wore a long black coat, with black pants and black boots. He had no skeleton necklaces, no weird piercings, nothing. He did however always wear an amulet around his neck, one with ancient voodoo symbols etched perfectly into silver.
There was a light grey aura that surrounded him, meaning he was harmless.
His entire doorway was lined with Devil's Shoestring. A herb used for protection against evil. Although learning anything from watching April, it wasn't the herb alone that gave protection; the herb was also infused with magic.
He started to shut the door, but I put my foot in the way just in time.
I held out my badge.
"This is official police business. If you want, I can call and get a warrant and have a team to ransack this entire place." I threatened.
"On what grounds would you get a warrant detective?" He replied slyly.
"On the grounds that you're our main suspect in an investigation, I know you keep a few not so legal 'herbs' here. You could just answer a few questions and that will be that, and I will leave you alone. Do we have a deal?"
He opened the door saying words in French, no doubt cursing me.
"Have you ever seen these markings before?" I asked showing him a picture of the victim's arms. To a mundane's untrained eye it would merely seem like a "normal" cadaver's dead arm.
His eyes widened in shock.
"μαγείατουΆδη."
"What?" I asked intrigued
"It's Greek for Magic of the dead. The magic of Hades. It's an old magic that is rarely used anymore."
"But you do?" I asked switching into detective mode.
"No! It is forbidden by my people. I merely study it, as I do other magic's. The council would have my head for just talking about it." he replied coldly.
"Well if it's that forbidden why have the Council not intervened?" I replied
"You and I both know the Council does not get involved unless it's apocalyptic, it is the way they have done things for thousands of years."
"You need to switch it up every now and again, it's the 21st Century after all. Will you at least tell me how I can locate someone who recently used it?"
Porthos was a member of the council I mentioned earlier, he was in charge of handling the Warlock community.
"First off, I represent the Warlock faction on the Council, but I have no real say or power when it comes to any decisions made by them. But I will assist you." He paused and turned to walk into his house. "There is a spell. But detective, heed my warning, keep April as far away as possible, the Darkness and its powers are very alluring to witches."
Oh, I left out this part of our story, April and Porthos were still close as ever, who knew me punching him in the face would only bring them closer together, to my uttermost disdain they became immediate friends bonding over their magic's and what not.
I stopped in front of the doorway for a split second. Bizarrely I wondered if the Devil's shoestring would stop me from entering. I slowly crossed the threshold.
Tainted by Darkness my ass.
His house was messy, there were old books lying around everywhere. Potions, strange ingredients, pots with boiling goo.
Now this was more like it. This screamed magic. Moments later he emerged with an old paper in his hand.
"Here, now leave." He said handing me the paper forcing me out the door.
"Than. . ." he slammed the door shut.
"So, the magic of the dead. Sounds like my kind of fun." I commented slowly making my way to my car.
I replayed his words over and over in my head. But I decided to send April the spell anyway, so while she was out gathering ingredients, I decided to head back to the precinct to kill some time.
Using Google to research an old magic that was almost extinct went as well as expected. But I had to stay busy until tonight. April was going to do the spell that would lead us to the person creating Wights and would hopefully lead to the end of this madness.
"Da Silva, in my office now!" The captain ordered.
I walked in shutting the door behind me.
Captain Arson looked worried; apparently, I wasn't the only one who had trouble sleeping, although I doubt we had the same trouble keeping us up at night.
"Alex, please tell me you have something. The Mayor is breathing down my neck with this investigation. All the other detectives have come up with nothing. CDC didn't find anything."
Before I could answer he continued.
"It's something weird isn't it?"
I slowly took a seat.
"Captain I've got a lead and I'm confident that I'll make an arrest and then the person or persons will be declared insane and moved to the Asylum no questions asked and the Mayor will be thanking the CPD for all their efforts in finding the individual responsible for the madness."
A deep frown crossed his face. "You know people around here are talking."
"And you're listening? So, it might look strange that 90% of my arrests turn up DOA or end up in an Asylum. You know why they can't go to jail and that alone should help you sleep better at night Cap."
The Captain knew all about my other life, I saved him, his wife, and their children back when I was still a rookie cop from a Jikininki attack.
Jikininki are from Japanese folklore, they're a type of human eating ghost. They disguise themselves to look like normal people but underneath that they look like a decomposing corpse with fangs, sharp claws, and red beady eyes.
Pretty disturbing stuff. After that, the Captain started helping me by making sure all the weird or unsolved cases ended up on my desk.
Becoming a detective, however, was all me.
"Okay Da Silva I trust you, but we need something soon before more people get involved." I nodded, walking towards the door. No pressure, let's hope this would be as easy as I'd made it seem.
"Oh, Da Silva, before you leave, you will be getting a new partner soon." He said putting on his spectacles and looking at some of the paperwork scattered on his desk no doubt avoiding my death stare.
"You're kidding right? Who? But Capt-" He cut me off
"It's out of my hands Da Silva, now I believe you have a case to get back to?" He said dismissively, waving me out of his office.
A new partner? This was not good. Davis was a pig, yes, but he was also lazy and really bad at his job which made him the ideal partner. This new partner could potentially ruin a plan that's taken 2 years to perfect.
When I first became a detective and chose the less normal cases a big problem occurred. I was killing most of the 'people' before they could go to trial or even get arrested, this raised a concern of discovery with the Council. It was my first encounter with them and quite frankly it was burned into my brain. The Council seemed to have a never-ending reach of influence and not only with the hidden world but also with the mundane world, they had everyone in their pockets from politicians to doctors to high ranking government officials. I've only met two members of the Council, one was the always witty Porthos and the other was Voltaire, his origins were unknown to me although he frequently referred to himself as an Alchemist of sorts, he was the creator of the Cleaners. They ensured the hidden world stayed hidden, and when I started dropping bodies left and right, he approached me, the term 'approached' being used very loosely in this scenario, he kidnapped me. He wore expensive flamboyant suites, he had short black hair styled in a 20's fashion with a thin black moustache. He always smiled, but behind the smile I could sense trouble. I've only seen him a number of times afterwards and have always tried to keep my visits short and sweet.
Every time I arrested someone from the hidden world, the ones who could pass as mundane, they would be declared mentally unsound and sent to the Asylum Voltaire owned. This was the easiest and cleanest way to get rid of those I captured, the ones that weren't so lucky got disposed of by the Cleaners. Even just thinking about it now gave me the creeps. Not much was known about what happened to those I hand over, but I cannot imagine that it would be as simple as a white padded cell and room service for life. A chill ran down my spine, but I forced my thoughts back to the present.
While waiting for a call from April I decided to get back to all my paperwork that had been stacking up the past weeks.
April was preparing to do the spell. It had taken April more than two weeks to gather all the ingredients to cast this spell, some of the ingredients were not legal in the States and April had to use other means to procure them. April decided that it was best for both of us if I didn't know exactly how she procured everything. The Captain was already breathing down my neck for an arrest as I had assured him that we'd make an arrest at least a week ago, little did I know that a 1000-year-old spell would be this difficult.
"It's going to take a lot of power, focus and time. It's really old, and with old spells like this it needs to be prepared perfectly or it'll backfire."
I looked at the piece of paper. The spell was in Greek so, naturally, it was much harder to do.
"Let's just hope the translation is correct." I said, concerned.
"It is," April said, pushing me out of the way and gathering her ingredients.
I looked around; this right here was the reason we should never use our own kitchen. The counters were piled with jars filled with weird and gross witchy herbs and things. I picked up one of the bottles and read the label
"Eye of Newt. Tasty." I commented, placing the bottle back in its rightful place.
"Alex, it's going to take a few hours; I'll call you when I'm done."
I took that as a not so subtle way of telling me to leave. April was a little OCD when it came to preparing spells, and me hovering around just agitated her.
I decided it was a good time for coffee and a cronut from my favourite coffee shop Le Morsel, it was only a few blocks away. It was never not a good time for a cup of coffee.
I went over to the far end of the coffee shop to my usual spot, sometimes when April needed space for whatever reason, including bringing a date home, this was the place I came to wait it out. You'd think that a coffee shop would be quiet and almost deserted by the time the sun set, but Le Morsel was never quiet.
The aroma of fresh coffee reminded me of my childhood, of Jay's coffee and so this was my way of being closer to him, a familiar memory in an uncertain world.
I could overhear a group of women chatting over coffee, typical Sex and the City style. Sometimes looking at them, I wished that that could be my life; just a normal life where I could have coffee with my girlfriends and not worry about what evil was threatening life as we know it. I could hear them complaining about some shoe sale they missed out on, one of them even went as far as to say, "It was the worst day of my life!"
"You must have a nice life," I muttered a little too loud.
They grew completely silent and stared at me. Oh boy, this was going to be high school all over again.
"Excuse me, who do you think you are?" The one asked in an annoyingly bitchy tone. I turned to face them, smirking.
"Alexandria Da Silva, homicide detective," I replied, showing them my badge. They grew completely silent and I turned my focus back to my book.
"Do you see a lot of death?" I looked up, 'homicide detective' was kind of self-explanatory, or at least I thought so.
"Yes." I simply replied and tried to focus back on my book.
"Wow, that's like super bad. Why do you do it?"
Alex, I thought to myself, let this be a lesson never talk to people, they're annoying and don't know anything about personal space.
"So bad guys don't get away. Ladies if you don't mind, I'm trying to enjoy the silence."
Apparently, they did mind. Well to be fair I should have never made a remark.
"Did you ever shoot somebody?" Another one asked.
"Yes."
"Oh, wow that's really cool, why did you shoot the person?"
Why did I shoot him? Who asks that? I slowly shut my book and faced them, my face serious, "He just wouldn't stop asking me senseless questions. Larry! I said, just let me read my book, and he wouldn't. So, I had to shoot him, there was simply no other option."
Yes, I know, I was being too harsh, but I tried the 'nice way.' They all looked shocked by my reply.
I couldn't help but smile. Why did I find so much enjoyment in tormenting people?
"Al?"
I froze, my heart started pounding in my chest as I recognized that voice. It was one I didn't ever want to hear again. I looked up and saw him
"Darren." I hissed.
He had medium length dark blonde hair styled effortlessly. With a strong jawline, bow lips. But his most captivating feature was his eyes, one sky blue one semi brown, like an artwork. They were deeply captivating.
He smiled at me, that signature devil-may-care smile filled with mischief. He always wore himself with a confident demeanour and a physical appearance of strength. He was dressed casually in jeans, a tight-fitting t-shirt and a leather jacket. My heart leaped at the sight of him.
I focused my mind, drawing out his aura.
Surprisingly it was light grey. Not what I'd expect to see from someone like him.
I stood up, curled my fist into a ball and punched him in the face with all my force. I was small, yes, but I knew I could pack a punch just like any guy. Blood started pouring out of his nose and I smiled in triumph.
I bolted out of there as fast as humanly possible. I didn't even make it half a block. He grabbed me by the arm, this time, I kicked back landing a blow in his stomach. I pulled back going in for another punch, his eyes started glowing, he growled.
"Alex. Stop!"
I stopped dead in my tracks.
He was the only Lycan I've ever seen that was in control of their wolf. He could change on will, unlike all the other Lycans I've encountered that can only change on a full moon and have no control when they do.
"Don't think for a second your Werewolf eyes and growl scare me, because they don't. You don't scare me." I said, taking a step towards him.
I was close now; I could fully take in his scent. He always loved his expensive perfume, and for good reason.
For a fleeting second, my old feelings for him rushed back.
"That's good; I don't want you to be scared of me. I just want to explain myself." He said calmly. He slowly lifted his hand and moved a strand of hair away from my eyes. I looked up at him, and into those eyes.
For a second it was only the two of us, no history, no deceit, no pain.
I pushed back, shaking my head. The moment was over.
"You're crazy if you think I'm going to listen to a word you say."
The anger, the rage, was pushing its way towards the surface again.
You should kill him for what he did. He doesn't deserve to live!
I started walking away.
"Don't follow me! Or so help me, I will put a silver bullet in your skull." I lashed out, practically shouting.
How dare he?
Kill him, kill them all!
I had to literally slap myself out of this crazy, rage-filled psychosis. Voices in my head? Why not, it's not like it wasn't crowded there already. Was this finally it? All the death, despair, murder, was it finally driving me crazy?
I rushed home and got my broadsword. It had been given to me as a present from a nunnery. I helped them with a Werewolf problem they had a few years ago. The sword was crafted during the Crusades in the Middle ages. It was forged from steel infused with silver and quenched in holy water in the hardening process, making it lethal to most creatures. In those days the nuns were trained hunters assisting in keeping the balance between the mundane and hidden world.