Kicking It(117)

Unsurprisingly, Eddy’s house looked like all the others, with the lawn well maintained and flower beds identical to his neighbors’. I crept up the drive silently, watching the shadows, but it appeared to be just another house in a quaint neighborhood. You know what they say about appearances.

My lock-picking spell made fast work of the front lock but that was the easy part. Zipping my jacket, I activated a charm that was part of the reason MCIB recruited me in the first place. The charm took power, a lot of it, and one of my rings held raw magic just to power this spell—and it did so only once per charge. But it was worth it. I stepped through Eddy’s household wards as if they didn’t exist. Once I was on the other side of the threshold I shut down the charm and opened my jacket again so I’d have access to my weapons.

I ran into my first shadow creature almost immediately. I’d been looking for the creatures but I still almost missed it. Judging by the way it swung at me, they could see through my charms.

But I had a new secret weapon.

Jumping out of the creature’s reach, I released a crossbow bolt into its chest. The vial in the bolt snapped, releasing the spell. At first the shadow continued to move. Then the first pinprick of light formed in its torso. It might have started small, but in less than a heartbeat I had to shade my eyes as light poured out of the shadow.

Once the flash faded I dropped my arm and looked around.

“Like that? I spent half the night working on it,” I said with a smile. Not that the shadow creature could care. He’d been vaporized.

I worked through the house room by room. The creatures made no sound as they evaporated so only the soft twinge of my crossbow accented the night.

Dawn was starting to pour through the windows as I reached the last room. I stopped at the door. A soft snoring sound drifted out of the room. Eddy, I presume. What most would-be criminals didn’t seem to understand was that the monsters were hard and dangerous. But the witches themselves? The witches went down easy.

Edward Mackenzie didn’t so much as twitch as I snuck into his room.

His capture?

As fast as a snap of a crossbow.

—

Vicky was cleared of charges and moved to the hospital. She’d been an unwilling accomplice, and really just another victim of the spelled stilettos. Especially once the effects started wearing off and she sank back into her depression. She’d have her own personal battles in the coming months, but this time she’d stick to traditional coping methods. I was betting she’d make it out to the other side.

While the waitress’s condition deteriorated, the other victims were making steady improvements. None had been released yet, but most were expected to be back home and enjoying a normal life again soon. Russell Lancaster had regained consciousness, and when I visited, he even cracked a smile. Edward Mackenzie, on the other hand, was looking at a very long prison stay and likely a magical neutering.

All in all, a job well done.

“Done” being the key word there. Now maybe I’d finally get to my vacation.

I locked my weapons in the wall safe—well, at least most of my weapons—and then padded barefoot across my room and into Derrick’s. “Tell me I get to act like a tourist now.”

He looked up from where he was packing his suitcase—not a good sign—and shook his head. “We caught a bad one,” he said, lifting a manila folder. “It involves a grave witch.”

I grimaced. If a grave witch was at the center of the case, that meant I’d most likely be hunting dead things. Excessively deadly dead things. On the plus side, grave witches were rare enough that we’d likely identify our culprit easily. “Do we know who we’re looking for?”

Derrick nodded. “A witch named Alex Craft.”