CHAPTER ONE
THERE’S A NEW SHERIFF IN TOWN
Commissioner’s Office, Los Angeles Police Department Headquarters, Los Angeles, California, United States
Burdens were made to be carried, however heavy they were. Peter Stevenson knew that better than most. As the Commissioner for Los Angeles, he had felt the weight of the city’s problems breaking his back for over five years. The job never got any easier but as a diehard public service officer, the stress was always worth it.
Reaching for his trusty bottle of antacids on his desk, Peter caught sight of something stir in the shadows in the open doorway. He paused. Someone was there, lurking in the darkness. It was late. The cleaning crew had already gone home. Most nights, Peter stayed past the janitorial staff—working long into the early morning hours.
Something flashed on the other side of Peter’s office. A blur of movement assaulted his vision. The Commissioner pushed back, tensing and defenseless as the hooded figure took a position in front of his desk.
Although Peter couldn’t see the visitor’s face, he recognized the man dressed in armor. He sighed, grabbing at his chest, willing his heart to slow after the scare. “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” Peter said through a measured breath. “What are you doing here?”
The man stayed in the shadows, his face obscured, but Peter pictured his crooked smile when he laughed, enjoying having frightened the overworked Police Chief. He hadn’t seen the man often, but each time was marked by adrenaline, since he often showed up uninvited and with a hint of a threat.
“You’re so easy to scare,” the man said, still laughing coldly. “That’s why you’re being replaced.”
Peter stood at once, shaking even more now. “You can’t get rid of me. We had a deal.”
“You had a deal with the old leader,” the man stated, defiantly. He reached out, drawing his finger over the front of Peter’s desk, like checking for dust. He held up his gloved hand, inspecting it. “They’ve been replaced, just like you.”
“By who?” Peter asked, wishing he’d taken his antacids, his chest tightening with tension.
The man chuckled again, throwing back his head slightly, not displacing the hood covering his face. “By me.”
“Well, you can’t get rid of me,” Peter argued, shaking his head. “I don’t work for you. I simply had an arrangement.”
“Don’t you see, you’ve always worked for us,” the man said coldly. “We put you in power and kept you there. Now I’m in charge and I’ve decided that you’re being replaced.”
“I’ll fight this. I’ll fight you,” Peter said, vibrating with sudden anxiety. He would go to the mayor. He’d go over everyone’s head. He’d go to the House of Fourteen, the organization that governed magic in this world. They were the most powerful agency. He’d ensure that he didn’t lose this job—the one thing that meant everything to him.
“There is no fighting this,” the man said, withdrawing something from behind his back.
“I can’t be fired!” Peter yelled, his face flushing red with anger.
“Oh, you’re not being fired,” the man said, lifting his hand up, but the darkness concealing what he was holding. “Like I said, you’re being replaced. We all know the bureaucracy of electing a new Commissioner is ridiculous and cumbersome. But when the role is suddenly vacant, it’s much faster and easier to fill.”
An ambient light caught the shine of the gun. A soundless scream flew from Peter’s mouth. The Commissioner of Los Angeles had seen a lot in his day, but he’d never seen his life flash before his eyes.
“You can’t do this,” Peter croaked, looking around suddenly for a way to defend himself. For a way to call for help. He stumbled back, hitting his rolling chair.
The man stepped forward, his crooked teeth showing when he smiled. “Of course I can. There’s a new sheriff in town.”
CHAPTER TWO
THE GIRL IN THE SHADOWS
Back Alleyways of West Hollywood, California, United States
This showdown between Vinny’s gang and his rival, Maurice’s, had been a long time coming. The fights in the streets were numerous, each gang member taking a shot when they could. It was time that the leaders fought—ending this battle—proving once and for all who ruled the streets of Los Angeles. Vinny knew it would be him.
Facing the large man in the alleyway, Vinny felt the familiar thrill of adrenaline as it filled his veins. Maurice might be larger than Vinny, but that didn’t matter. This fight would be won by the quickest hand. It would be secured by the first man to pull his gun and fire with the truest aim.
Eyeing the men flanking Maurice, Vinny counted the many figures dressed in black. There were three of them and three men standing at Vinny’s back. When this fight was over, there would be fewer. But because the gang leader was so confident that he’d win, he didn’t worry that he’d lose all his men.
Behind Maurice and his goons, people passed by the narrow alleyway on their way home or off to the bars and restaurants. The shootout would no doubt take down innocent people, but that wasn’t Vinny’s problem.
They were fighting under the streetlamps in a back alleyway. That was one way they’d lessened stray bullets. But he’d mostly chosen this place for the duel so they didn’t get the attention of the police, rather than to protect the innocent. If a few who weren’t gang members took a bullet, then what did Vinny care? He had to show Maurice who was boss, once and for all.