Devil's Due Read online

  “Ah…”

  “How can you even see the cards?” asked Dakota.

  “I told you, just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can’t see.”

  “Okay, so what’s this one mean?” Dakota reached a finger out and tapped the card.

  “That’s you.”

  Dakota scoffed. “I’m the fool?”

  Cassandra let out a chuckle. “It’s what the card represents. You are embarking on a journey, dear. But I sense you are running from something…”

  She took the next card from the deck and set it down beside the first. An old man seated on a throne with a crown upon his head. THE EMPEROR written at the bottom of the card.

  “A person. A figure of power, authority, and influence…”

  “He called himself the Mini—”

  “Hush up—don’t interfere with the process.”

  Cassandra took another card from the deck, laying it beside the others. THE TOWER was written on the bottom of this one, and it featured a castle tower in flames. Cassandra seemed surprised by the card, her eyes widening.

  “Something is coming…something powerful. And it is linked to you.” Cassandra tapped The Tower card. “This is your journey. But you cannot embark on it alone. No…you need a guide…”

  She flipped another card, setting this one below the other three, closer to Dakota. It featured a man in robes, holding a wand above his head. The symbol of infinity was drawn above him. And at the bottom of the card, it said THE MAGICIAN.

  Cassandra smirked. “Of course. It would be him…”

  “Him who?” asked Dakota. “Who’s the magician?”

  Cassandra took the hose from the table and sucked on the end of it. The coals atop the hookah burned bright in response and the water bubbled fiercely in the bowl. She exhaled slowly. The smoke trails seemed to shift and merge in the air and Dakota could swear she saw them being woven together in a symbol.

  “Is that…a cross?” she asked.

  Cassandra nodded. “Indeed it is, dear. Indeed it is.” She picked up the magician card and flipped it over, holding it out to Dakota. “If you take this card to him, then he’ll know I sent you.”

  “Him who?” Dakota’s tone grew more annoyed.

  “Turn it over.”

  Dakota did as the old woman commanded and flipped the card. Where before it had the image of the magician, now it looked like a business card. A symbol at the top, a circle with a cross in the center. At the bottom was an address on the Gold Coast. And in the center was a name and a title:

  LUTHER CROSS

  PARANORMAL INVESTIGATOR

  5

  My eyes fluttered open and I stared at the dark curtains blocking out the sun. The piercing ring of the cell phone on my nightstand was the bastard responsible for pulling me out of a particularly pleasant dream involving Beyoncé, a fifth of tequila, and a tub of Jell-O.

  I picked up the phone and grumbled when I saw the name on the screen, answering as I sat up in bed. “Wayne Cooper, why the hell are you calling me so damn early?”

  There was a scoff on the other end. “It’s ten in the damn morning, Luther. That’s not early by anyone’s definition.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re not usually up late at night battling ghosts and goblins, are you?”

  “Nope, my perps are just your garden variety human jackasses.”

  I yawned and stretched out my jaw. “Okay, so what’s goin’ on?”

  “I got a buddy up north, a state trooper. He caught a weird one.”

  “My kinda weird?”

  “More than likely.”

  Wayne Cooper was a detective with the Chicago Police Department, one of many contacts I had all over the state in different positions. Sometimes, I caught wind of important cases through people like him.

  “So, what are we lookin’ at?” I asked.

  “I think you should go have a look for yourself,” said Wayne. “It’s up near the Wisconsin border—a place called Winthrop Harbor. I’ll text you the details.”

  “Great way to start the day…” I grumbled. “Okay, send ’em over. I’m gonna shower and get some caffeine in me.”

  I ended the call and left the phone on the nightstand, then groaned as I rubbed my eyes. I didn’t really have any interest in heading up to the border. Get too close to Wisconsin, you’re liable to catch something. But Wayne’s good people, so if he needs my help with something, I’ve gotta own up to it.

  Besides, he did me a solid not too far back, so I owe him.

  I pulled the comforter off and swung my legs out, setting foot on the hardwood floor. Standing, I approached the window and pulled the curtains open. My condo was on the top floor and it had a great view of Lake Michigan. I cringed from the influx of sunlight, then relaxed once my eyes adjusted. After standing a few minutes like that, I proceeded into the master bathroom and took off my boxers, then stepped inside the standing shower.

  After a quick shower, followed by the ritual shaving of my head and around my goatee, I entered the walk-in closet. I chose one of the many tailored black suits I owned, white dress shirt, crimson tie, and my shoulder holster.

  After getting dressed, I went to the kitchen and made myself some coffee, then went out to the balcony and stood there, looking out over my city. Sure, it was chilly out, but I had a ritual of enjoying my first cup of coffee on the balcony. As long as there was no snow on the ground, that is.

  I finished the coffee and went back inside, leaving the empty mug on the dining room table. Then I went into my home office, where I kept most of my supplies and my rare book collection. When it wasn’t with me, I kept my custom revolver in a case on my desk. I grabbed it and slid it into the holster under my arm. Didn’t think I’d need it for just a preliminary investigation, but better safe than sorry.

  After grabbing my trench coat from the front closet in the foyer, I was out the door and went straight to the elevators. There was a parking garage underneath the building. As the elevator lowered, I took a pair of sunglasses from my trench coat and slid them on.

  The crimson eyes were a gift of my demonic heritage and they had a tendency to put off most of the norms, so I usually found it was easier to wear sunglasses when I went out in the daytime.

  The elevator reached the basement garage and the doors opened. An older man with hair graying at his temples waited not far from the elevator. He was dressed in a uniform and flashed me a friendly smile.

  “Good morning, Mr. Cross.”

  “Jack, how are tricks?”

  “Oh, I can’t complain.”

  “Good to know. Care to grab my car for me?” I tossed him the keys.

  Jack caught them in one hand with ease and smiled. “Be right back, sir.”

  I lit a cigarette as I waited. I’d barely gotten a few puffs in before I heard the sound of my baby in the distance. The Camaro pulled to a stop right in front of me and Jack exited the driver’s side. He gestured to the car and held the door open until I got in, then closed it for me.

  “Thanks a lot, Jack. Have a good day.”

  “You too, Mr. Cross.”

  Once Jack walked away, I first removed the gun from the holster and put it in the glovebox. Useful to have, but not so comfortable to drive with. Putting my phone in the dock, I brought up Wayne’s text and typed the address into the navigation app. Winthrop Harbor—shit. It would take me at least an hour to get up there.

  What’re you bitchin’ about anyway, Cross? Not like you had anything better to do today.

  * * *

  Winthrop Harbor was just across the border from Kenosha. Small place, less than ten thousand people, all of them upper middle class. Popular boating destination. I drove through the town, passing by the well-manicured lawns and the McMansions lining the street.

  Wayne’s buddy was waiting for me at the police department, so that’s where I went first. I pulled into the parking lot and chose a spot. After turning off the car, I opened the glovebox to check on the revolver inside. I doubted I would
need it. Besides, in a town as lily-white as this, a black man carrying a gun—even if he’s a licensed private detective—might spook the hell outta the local law enforcement.

  I closed the glovebox and got out of the car. My hands brushed down my body, smoothing out my coat and suit. Then I proceeded to the front door of the police station and walked up to the receptionist at the front desk, a pretty, young redhead. I smiled at her.

  “Good afternoon—” I glanced down at the nameplate “—Caitlin. My name’s Luther Cross. I was told to come down here and speak with Lieutenant Jeff Newton of the Illinois State Police. I was told he’d be here.”

  “Yes, he’s waiting for you, Mr. Cross.” Caitlin turned her chair and pointed to the corridor branching of from the main reception area. “Just go down that hall and through the main area. He’s waiting in Chief Burke’s office.”

  I gave Caitlin a final smile and nodded my thanks, then followed her directions to the letter. Got a few glances from the uniformed cops on duty in the main office as I walked past their desks, strolling right up to a door with CHIEF MARCUS BURKE written on the nameplate. I rapped at the door a few times.

  It opened a moment later. A man in uniform with CHIEF BURKE on his nameplate stood there. A bit soft in the middle, and it looked like most of the hair atop his head had gone south for retirement and settled on his upper lip.

  “You Cross?” he asked in a hurried tone.

  “I am indeed, Chief—”

  “Good, come in.” Burke hustled me into his office and closed the door behind him.

  Seemed he was a bit anxious to get this over with. Must be something pretty weird, then. Burke sat behind his desk. In front of it were two chairs. One was occupied by a young man in his early thirties, also looking pretty nervous. I took the empty chair.

  I looked at the man sitting next to me. “Lieutenant Newton, I presume?”

  “Yes.” His head shot up right away. He shook his head and offered his hand to me. “I’m sorry, just a little flustered…”

  I could tell. His hand shook so much, you’d think there was an earthquake.

  “Thank you for coming up here, Mr. Cross. I’m sorry to disturb you, but Wayne—Detective Cooper—he was the only one I could think of to call.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Newton tells me you deal with this kinda weird shit all the time, Mr. Cross?” asked Burke.

  “Could be up my alley, Chief. Why don’t you boys tell me just what we’re dealin’ with here?”

  “Late last night, state police got a call about a disturbance on a country road. There aren’t many houses in that area—mostly farmers. But they reported a bright light and heard screams. They went to see what was up and found the body,” said Newton. “Dispatch sent me out to investigate. What I found was…well…”

  “The eyes were gone,” said Burke.

  “I needed some help with it, and since Winthrop Harbor wasn’t that far off, I called Chief Burke for some assistance.”

  Bright light…missing eyes…yeah, this sounded just weird enough for my tastes. “Can I see the body?”

  “Yeah, c’mon. Kenosha County Medical Examiner’s been kind enough to let us use their facilities.”

  “Kenosha?” I raised an eyebrow.

  Burke rose from his seat and gave a shrug. “Just a ten-minute drive up the road.”

  Great. So much for avoiding Wisconsin.

  * * *

  Burke took Newton in his car, but I said I preferred to take my own. Didn’t wanna ride in the back of a police car, even if it was for only a few minutes. We crossed the border into Kenosha and parked outside the County Medical Examiner’s office.

  Inside, once the introductions were made and pleasantries exchanged, the ME—an unassuming guy by the name of Allan Broderick—took us down to the morgue and pulled the body out of the drawer.

  “It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” said Broderick. “Take a look here around the eye sockets.”

  I took off my sunglasses and slid them into my trench coat pocket. There were a few surprised looks from the other three men at the sight of my crimson eyes, but I just brushed them off with a smile.

  “Colored contacts,” I said.

  “Right…” muttered Burke.

  I leaned over the body and focused on the eye sockets like Broderick had said. There were burns on them and the eyes had been completely vaporized.

  “You know anything that could’ve caused that?” asked Newton.

  “It’s like the eyes were…blown out from the inside. But I have no idea how that’s even possible. The cause of death seems to be cardiac arrest, but how that ties in with the eyes…”

  Oh, I knew how it’s possible. I knew because I’d seen it before. I straightened up and sighed.

  “Any thoughts, Mr. Cross?” asked Burke.

  “Yeah, I got a few. Not sure you’ll really like what I have to say, though.” I rubbed my chin. “The stiff got a name?”

  “He had his wallet on him. Robert Donley, from Waukegan,” said Newton. “Unmarried, no children, parents both dead. Found out where he worked. Just waiting to hear back from them.”

  “Don’t bother. They won’t be any help,” I said.

  “Mr. Cross, Wayne told me you were a specialist. Just what sort of specialist did he mean?”

  “You’re better off not knowing.” I turned around and headed for the door.

  “W-wait, Mr. Cross!” shouted Newton after me. “Is that it?”

  I stopped at the door and looked at Newton. “Listen, kid, I’ve gotten all I can from that body. For your own benefit—and this goes for you as well, Burke—you’ll want to just write this up as a heart attack.”

  “What? You drive all the way up here and that’s—”

  “Thanks for your cooperation, but I’ve gotta get back to the city.”

  I walked through the morgue doors and headed back to the parking lot. Eyes burned out from the inside, reports of a bright light…yeah, there was no doubt about it. That kind of killing usually only happens when something’s powerful enough to burn a soul out of a body.

  Which meant that tonight, I had some old friends to meet.

  6

  With a fresh cigarette between my lips, I took the exit off I-94 onto Division Street. Back in the city, finally. I stopped off for some fast food on the way home and now had to figure out what I’d do until tonight.

  It took a lot of power to burn a soul out of a body. No normal magus or witch could pull off something like that. Hell, I doubt even the top-tier warlocks could pull it off without damn-near killing themselves.

  No, this wasn’t the work of a mortal. Only an angel or a demon could swing that kind of stuff. And it’d have to be one of the higher-ranking ones. But the question was why? Vaporizing souls is one of those things that they just wouldn’t do. It’s risky, for one. And two, there’s a lot of value in souls.

  Robert Donley must’ve been mixed up in something bad. Bad enough that he pissed off the wrong halo or pitchfork. I supposed the first thing I could do once I got home was look into his background, see if I could turn up anything on him.

  And tonight, I’d hit up Eden. Raziel had a whole mess of shit to answer for.

  I turned onto the ramp leading down to the parking garage and pulled the car to a stop in front of Jack. He smiled and opened the door for me. Before getting out, I retrieved my gun from the glovebox and took my phone from the dock.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Cross.”

  “Thanks, Jack.”

  He took the wheel and drove the car off to be parked. I continued smoking, finishing off the cigarette by the time Jack returned with my keys. After nodding my thanks to him and depositing the remains of the butt in the standing ashtray, I entered the elevator lobby and rode up to the top floor.

  At the door to my condo, I paused and removed my sunglasses. Something wasn’t right. Placing my hand on the door, I closed my eyes and concentrated.

  There was a presence inside.
Something odd. Something…familiar, but different at the same time. I drew my revolver and tried the door handle. Unlocked. Wondered for a moment if it was Celeste, the woman I’ve got a thing with. But no, knew better than to leave the door open like that. And besides, I’d recognize her presence.

  I stepped inside carefully and moved through the foyer. The first room was my office and I opened the door gently, trying to be as quiet as I could. Peeking inside, I saw nothing. Completely empty, everything just as I’d left it.

  I moved further in, now coming out of the corridor and into the living room. Just as empty as the office. I turned the corner and stepped into the adjoining dining room. The mug I’d left on the table this morning was in exactly the same place. The kitchen was next. I pushed up against the wall separating it from the dining room and jumped around, holding the gun.

  Nothing. Not a soul. That only left the master bedroom.

  I backtracked to the living room and stepped down the short corridor leading to my room. The door was slightly ajar. I kicked it in and aimed the revolver. Movement came from the bed. A girl, early twenties or so. Blond. And she looked scared as hell.

  There was something else about her. That presence I felt earlier. It was her—well, not quite. It’s a little hard to explain. Cambions have pretty keen senses about what’s human and what’s not. Usually, we’re able to tell the difference.

  With her, I got the sense it was more complicated than that. And that set me on edge.

  “How’d you get into my condo?” I asked. “And who in blazes are you?”

  “D-Dakota. Dakota Reed,” she said as she gasped for breath. “You’re Luther Cross, aren’t you?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “I was told to come see you.”