Page 1 of A Match Made in Coven
Chapter One
Killer Overtime
SARAH MICHELLE
Detective Callidora’s breath fogged the chilly fall night air as she ducked under the yellow police tape. A week before Halloween, the streets of Salem buzzed with anticipation—the townsfolk unaware of the gruesome scene hidden away in a downtown office building.
A fellow magical enforcer greeted her on the other side of the tape with a curt, “Detective.” He added a grim nod. “This one’s something to see.”
Sarah Michelle grunted in acknowledgment; her mind was still groggy from being jolted awake by the call less than half an hour before. It wasn’t the first time her job had abruptly interrupted her sleep, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Stepping inside the victim’s office, the metallic scent of blood assaulted her senses, chasing off any lingering fogs of drowsiness. Several officers from Salem Magical Police Department (SMPD) were on site, their expressions bleak and professional as they filed away evidence. The crime scene photographer moved around methodically, capturing every angle of the room, while a forensic specialist examined the area with a wand emitting a soft blue light, looking for potential spell residues.
And in the center of it all, slumped over his desk, was the victim, Elijah Preston, a magical blade plunged deep into the back of his skull, the eerie glow of the weapon casting sinister shadows on his lifeless face.
“Blasted trolls,” Sarah Michelle muttered under her breath as she approached the body. The dagger was unlike any she had encountered before, crafted from golden metal and engraved with intricate magical swirls. It pulsed with a persistent throb of power that synchronized with each beat of her heart.
She leaned closer, studying the symbols etched into the bejeweled handle. They were ancient, complex. She was looking at an old, expensive artifact that only a few families in Salem could afford. Or an heirloom—even better, easier to track.
“He must’ve stumbled into something too big for him,” Sarah Michelle remarked dryly to no one in particular. The victim might be human, but this was no ordinary murder.
As she straightened up, her gaze fell on a photograph on Preston’s desk. It showed him shaking hands with a strikingly handsome man, their smiles wide. Something about the tall, blond guy in the picture drew her in. She had to resist the instinct to pick up the photo and have a closer look—not until forensics was done. But she kept studying the man’s chiseled features and piercing blue-green eyes.
Even through the glossy paper, she could sense an aura of power emanating from him. Her gut told her this mysterious stranger was a wizard.
As the coroner came in to move the body, she exited the office to take a breath of air that didn’t smell like death. The space was already too crowded.
In contrast, the headquarters of Cornerstone Constructions, likely a bustling hub of activity during the day, were now ominously silent. Desks were neatly arranged, but papers lay scattered as if someone had searched them and then abandoned the quest in haste. Beyond the glass, the world carried on as if nothing had happened.
Sarah approached the attending officer, a seasoned veteran named Flint, and set down to do the legwork of the investigation. “What do we know so far?”
Officer Flint glanced up from his notepad. “Not much yet, detective. Preston’s body was discovered by the cleaning crew when they came in at eleven p.m. as they do every night. No signs of forced entry.”
“No magical or human infractions?” Sarah Michelle pressed.
“No, the place had no enchanted wards to infract upon, and it appears the victim let the killer in.”
“Ah, so they knew each other.”
“Most probably.”
“Any idea what kind of magic we’re dealing with?” She gestured toward the shimmering dagger that was being retrieved so the body could be moved.
Flint shook his head. “Never seen anything like it. We’ll have to take the knife to the lab for analysis.”
A forensic agent passed them, carrying the still-glowing blade away in a plastic bag. The flashing lights of the police cruisers outside illuminated his path to the evidence van in an intermittent, hypnotic pattern. The dagger pulsed once more before he secured it inside.
Sarah Michelle turned to Officer Flint. “Time of death?”
He consulted his notes. “Medical examiner estimates at ten p.m.”
“Any suspects seen entering or leaving the building around that hour?” Sarah asked, her gaze scanning the perimeter.
“None so far. But the cameras were disabled—by someone with a code.”
“The victim?”
“Possible. Or someone else with access.”
