Page 6 of Soulbound Shadows: Part 1

He snorted, shaking his head in disapproval as he ducked back out of sight.

“Listen,” I said quietly, getting to my feet so the stranger wasn’t looming over me quite as much. “I’m here on important business, all right?” I grabbed a business card from one of my jacket’s many pockets and handed it over.

Evangeline Summers, P.I. was printed across the front in a sturdy black font. “Some sort of powerful weapon has resurfaced, and I need to find it before someone else gets their hands on it and does something really, really stupid. This book could be the key to that.”

The vampire looked over my card skeptically. “A hypothetical danger. Meanwhile, I’m dealing with one that’s much more pressing.”

I watched him, letting the silence stretch out. Most people weren’t comfortable with the quiet, and if you waited them out long enough, they’d fill it, answering questions you wouldn’t even have to ask.

“Vampires have been disappearing,” he said. “I have a responsibility to stop it, if I can, and it seems I may need the information in that book.”

I sighed. “I don’t know how long I’m going to need the book, but I’d be willing to share it if you think it can help. Maybe we can take turns.”

The vampire scanned my face, then nodded. “I suppose that’s acceptable,” he said finally. “Gabriel De Montclair, at your service.” Gabriel glanced at my card again. “Does P.I. stand for private investigator or paranormal investigator?”

“Depends on the client.” I decided not to mention that an earlier version of my business card had had P.P.I on it, for paranormal private investigator, until I’d tried the acronym out loud and realized that pee-pee-eye probably wasn’t a great way to introduce myself.

“I may have work for you,” Gabriel said. “If I hit a snag with my missing persons investigation.”

I mentally flicked through my calendar. I had a lot on my plate already, but while bickering with hot strangers was all well and good, if there were actual lives on the line, I did feel like I had a responsibility to help. I sighed. “I can’t promise you much of my time, but I’ll help if I can.”

He lifted my business card, held between two fingers. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Can’t wait,” I said, and almost managed to make it sound genuine.

When I got back to the office, Marcus was seated in one of the two creaky chairs that faced the front of the desk. His pipe was in his mouth but not turned on, and he was halfway through a cheap paperback. On the cover, a man with horrible facial hair posed dramatically with a gun.

“Those’ll rot your brain, you know,” I said, shrugging off my jacket and throwing it onto the coatrack in a practiced movement.

Marcus set aside his book. In bold yellow letters, the back cover let the world know that it contained The Final Case of Dick Mullen! “Oh, they’re absolute dreck,” he said. “But I do enjoy the twists and turns.”

I shook my hair out of its bun and flopped into my chair, kicking my feet up on the desk. “Speaking of twists and turns, I think you might want to take a look at this,” I said, picking up the letter and tossing it to Marcus.

He caught it without looking, then pulled silver-framed glasses from one of his cargo pants pockets and slid them onto his nose. His eyes flicked back and forth across the page as he read. “Interesting,” he said finally, putting the letter back on my desk.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re almost certainly going to throw yourself into this case no matter what I say,” Marcus replied, looking at me over the tops of his glasses. “But I would advise caution. Not only could this ascendancy array be incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands, but whoever sent you this letter clearly has machinations of their own. We can’t assume this is an innocent tip from a concerned citizen.”

“I know,” I said. “But this thing… Something about it is calling to me, Marcus. It feels important.”

He leaned back in his chair, fiddling with his pipe. “Well, trusting your hunches only rarely leads you to severe bodily harm.”

“You should be a motivational speaker. Your pep talks are next level.”

I fidgeted with the pendant around my neck. It was a round, polished disc of labradorite, with a smooth dip in the middle, perfect for sliding the pad of my thumb across. There was a pleasant hum of magic coming from it that I could feel if I really focused, and whenever I was super stressed, I would take a few breaths and ground myself with that steady, familiar hum.

The pendant was a gift from Marcus when I’d turned eighteen and officially been offered a spot as his apprentice. It was a portal stone, he had told me, and was mine to keep whether or not I took on the job. I’d worn it every day in the eight years since.

“It’s an interesting puzzle,” I said. “You know how I feel about those.”

“I do,” Marcus said. “All too well.”

I’d known Marcus since I was twelve, when my magic had started to manifest, and he’d felt the ripples of it. Giving straight answers about why he did the things he did wasn’t really Marcus’s specialty, but apparently he’d been driving through the countryside to see the sights when he’d picked up on the distant sensation of my magic. He’d arrived in the tiny town where I lived, driving the oldest, dirtiest pickup truck I’d ever seen, which he affectionately called Floyd. I hadn’t known it at the time, but Floyd was running on so much magic, it didn’t even take gas anymore, and when you cracked open the hood, you wouldn’t find an engine. Instead, it held a tangle of shiny wire that looked like a city made entirely of decorative bird cages.

My parents had been confused but supportive. When they’d adopted me, they’d sworn to love me no matter what, and they’d never broken that promise. They loved me very much, but in a way that made it feel like they were hoping affection could make up for their lack of understanding. They knew I was studying magic in the same way some parents knew their kids were studying computer programming.

I grabbed a sticky note from the cluttered surface on my desk and scribbled a reminder to call them later.

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