Arrest, Search and Séance : Book 1 of the Fringe Society R.D. Hunter (pride and prejudice read .TXT) 📖

In Atlanta, the Coven of the Gilded Moon always put on the biggest feast and party, usually attended by at least a couple hundred of the Fringe. That was where Hawkins was going to strike.

“You have to get me out of here, Gramps,” I implored again. “Please. I have to stop him.” I could see the conflict raging inside my usually stoic grandpa, and I hated it. I hated that I had to put him in a position of helping his granddaughter to possibly further injury, or risk the lives of countless of the Fringe. But there was no help for it.

After a few moments’ contemplation, he nodded sadly.

“Wait here. I’ll return shortly.” He grabbed his bag, slung it across his shoulder, and left.

I lay there, unable to move without excruciating pain, so I started filling in the gaps of the case in my head. Mason had hire Hawkins to do exactly what he said, find someone private who might be able to provide some spiritual insight into whatever was going on with him. Hawkins, in all his brilliance, had decided that meant he wanted to find someone who did real magic, so that was what he looked for. Most places he hit a dead end, except with Nichole Barret.

To his shock, he’d not only found someone who did magic, but he might be able to do it himself, with the right tools and equipment. So, he kills Nichole Barret, taking unnecessary measures to make sure she didn’t rise from the grave, (hey, the man had just discovered witches exist. He wasn’t taking any chances at this point) stole her Book of Shadows to use as an instruction manual, as well as all the crystals he could find.

Now he’s got the juice, he’s got the know-how, but he’s also got a problem; that’s me. Thanks to an observant neighbor and Bill’s info, we show up at his door in record time asking about Nichole Barret. He’s spooked, so he turned us on to Harold Mason to buy us some time.

That night, using instructions found in Nichole’s Book of Shadows, he throws a line into the spirit realm and hooks the Smiling Man. Looking back, it was probably just a low-level entity that fed on fear and caused bad dreams. He knew that wouldn’t be enough, so he supercharged it with some of his crystal juice and, voila; instant, supernatural killing machine.

He sends it after me because he doesn’t like me and because he knows that nothing would drain the department’s attention and drain their resources faster than a detective found dead in her own home. It’d give him some much-needed breathing room. But I throw a monkey wrench in that plan by surviving, so now he knows it’s only a matter of time before I talk to Mason and start connecting dots. So, he takes a shortcut and begins fusing those crystals to his body, giving him the boost in power he wants with no discernible side effects; at least, not until they turn him into a dried-out husk from over using him, but he doesn’t know about that part. To him, he’s hit the magical jackpot, and he’s ready to cash in.

It fit. The only question now was, what was he going to do with all this power before it killed him? My gut told me he was going to make a move on the Gilded Moon tonight. The Festival of Imbolc was a target-rich environment for someone looking to attack the Fringe. He either wanted more power, some recognition, or was just murder-happy by this point. The ‘why’ of the upcoming massacre didn’t really matter.

Minutes passed and I began to doze. The high-octane pain meds being pumped into me were seductive in their lullaby, and I came around to see Captain Barker standing over me. He looked grim.

“Sir…” I began, but he held up a hand to stop me.

“Don’t talk,” he said. “The only way I could get the nurse to let me in was if I promised not to upset you. She’s tougher than Calloway ever was.” I licked my dry lips before managing a weak smile.

“She must be a real bitch.” We both chuckled, even though it sent fresh shards of pain. My heart grew cold. “Bill?” I said with dread in my voice. The Captain shook his head.

“No word yet. He was messed up pretty bad. Both his left leg and left arm were severely injured. There was talk about amputation. Several pieces of shrapnel hit him, nicking a couple of arteries in the process, but they missed his heart and lungs by some miracle. Whatever explosive Hawkins used, it was concussive in nature rather than incendiary, which a blessing in itself. It kept the two of you from being roasted alive and the building didn’t burn to the ground around you.”

Explosive. That was a good an explanation as anything. It certainly held more water than ‘magical detonation from a crystal-infused lunatic’.

I shut my eyes tight in a vain attempt to keep the tears from leaking out of them. Bill, my partner and friend, was fighting for his life because I’d failed him. I should have sensed a magical attack of that nature coming from a mile away. But I’d been so hellbent on cracking my first case and solving my first murder, that I’d totally forgotten the killer had made off with a magical armament that could blow a hole in the world. Stupid.

“Hey,” Captain Barker said gently, “Bill Perkins is a fighter. If anyone can pull through this, it’s him. And as soon as you recover, I want you back at your desk ready to work. You passed your probationary period.” I opened my eyes and looked at him in confusion.

“But Hawkins…”

“… Is no longer your problem, at least until the trial,” he