AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Eight officers, just from the first shift.
I grit my teeth to suppress my anger. It’s not their fault Bailey rigged the system.
As the three officers settle onto empty chairs, I slide behind the desk and open the folder waiting there. “Please, introduce yourselves, starting from the front left row.”
As the officers stand and give their names and ranks, I write them onto the paperwork in front of me in triplicate and sign the bottoms.
When the last officer sits down, I pass a copy of each form to Mayn, who hands them out, along with thick booklets.
The woman from earlier reads hers and frowns. “Sir, I don’t understand.”
I rise and move to stand in front of the desk. “Congratulations, detectives. You have just passed your magical resistance qualification.”
She shakes her head. “No, I failed that test when I took it.”
With varying levels of confusion on their faces, the others all nod in agreement.
“I assure you that whatever test you failed before was not the magical resistance qualification.” I press my hands on the table behind me to stop them from curling into fists. “Every one of you was given two directions when you arrived. One from me to go to room two, and one from my partner, Lieutenant Mayn, to go to room one. Those who could resist Lieutenant Mayn’s order withstood a siren using Voice.”
All eyes jump to my inhuman partner.
“So, once again, congratulations.” I give them a hard stare. “You have just officially joined the Joint Task Force of Paranormal Investigations, not on loan, but as permanent officers.”
As they start protesting, I head for the door. “Review your handbooks while I test the next round of officers.”
Mayn follows me out, shutting the door on their questions. “A healthy haul, sir.”
“Let’s hope our next hunt nets us an equal number.” I grin at her. “And get those documents to O’Hara. I want them filed before Captain Bailey gets wind of this.”
She smiles back, showing a hint of sharp teeth. “Right away, sir.”
into the grave
- Pen -
The Poison Frogwas a bar in its previous life and embraced the demon takeover with enthusiasm, leaving its doors open even during the worst of the riots.
Now, it thrives as a gathering place for beings from all walks of life, demons and witches swilling questionable alcoholic beverages alongside humans who have won the right not to be killed on the spot.
As we approach, a sense of vertigo strikes as my eyes struggle with the level sidewalk and the tilting building. Only a few feet of space separates the bar from its neighbor on the right, but as it rises, the wall leans to the side until the two roofs press against each other at the top.
The exterior of the building, once painted a cheery yellow, now holds a poisonous, green tint from the slime that leaks from the siding, and the torn, red awning flaps in an ozone-laden breeze.
Through the cracked windows, I make out a warped view of the beings packed inside. Those who don’t fit spill out onto a section of sidewalk cordoned off by a thick rope to designate a patio.
Music and laughter spill out of the open front door where beings hover, hoping to grab a free spot inside.
As we near, a breeze carrying the stench of bodies packed too close together mingled with stale alcohol assaults us.
Suddenly, I’m grateful that we need to greet Nickodemus first. If we tried to push our way through that crowd to the bar counter, it could get us killed.
Darius leads me past the main entrance and into the alley, and within a few paces, the pressed-together roofs cut off the sunlight. The stench of stale alcohol increases, and my shoes stick to the ground, every step forward accompanied by a sticky ripping sound.
A cellar door on the side of the building stands open, the wooden cover propped open by a metal pipe.
Darius raises his hand, and fire flares to life on his fingertips, illuminating the way down beneath the Poison Frog.
At the bottom of the stairs, a solid steel door without a handle blocks entry into The Cellar.
