Arcane Detective 2 (Patreon)

I was acquainted with the Detective enough to recognize that with the anger she was displaying, there had to be at least a couple bodies involved with the case —one was given considering she was a detective in homicide, just low enough in the totem pole to receive the worst cases, often impossible to solve due to inconsistent clues. 

At least, impossible for anyone without a decent knowledge of the supernatural, because the weirder the case was, the more likely was the connection with the supernatural. Of course, there was a chance that the body with no blood was killed by a serial killer with a very specific fetish, or it might be killed by a vampire, the latter being far likelier, even in a magic-poor dimension like the Earth. 

Detective Joanna wasn’t the only one I was making a connection in the city of my exile, as the murder was hardly the only way the supernatural interacted with the world, but unfortunately, getting that distinction was much more different in other crimes, such as disappearances, property damage, inconsistent stories about ghosts and alien kidnappings… 

Just as I was about to take a step toward the kitchen to grab an apple to snack on the way, my phone buzzed. ‘Are you on the way?’ 

‘Just grabbing a snack,’ I answered. 

‘Don’t…’ came the response. 

It must be worse than usual if she was trying to warn me against eating. I decided to follow her recommendation, even though I doubted it would really affect me after the classes back in the academy.

Constructing a flesh golem was not a task for faint hearts or delicate stomachs. 

 I turned off the lights, went out the door, and locked behind me, frowning even as I tried to remember whether I had replaced the keys after taking ownership of the office. 

My new landlord didn’t seem the kind that respected personal boundaries, and as much as I tried not to leave anything sensitive out in the open, mistakes happened. 

With a frown, I put my hand on the lock, and casting the weakest cantrip I could squeeze possible, not wanting to alert any Custodian that might have decided to drop by as I modified both the keyhole and the key. It was a risk, of course, but no observation meant no crime. 

Of course, just because the mana expenditure was limited didn’t mean the spell itself was simple. Modifying a key and the lock simultaneously without distorting it, without using any kind of focus of a rune was an expertise that was ahead of many council members, let alone the average mage. “What a waste,” I murmured. 

After all, there was a reason that the council treated me as an active political threat to handle rather than an annoyance, with Custodians buzzing around like flies. 

I started walking down the stairs, ignoring the elevator. I didn’t like them, the idea of being locked behind steel walls where an even half-decent opponent could easily ambush me with little to no preparation. Not when I could easily count a dozen creatures that could teleport through the shadows with more ease they showed while breathing. 

Being able to run was an underrated skill for mages, at least the ones that had to live without the protection of a dynastic magical family filled with disposable guards to throw against any kind of danger… 

In terms of being dangerous traps, the stairs weren’t exactly a healthy choice either — too easy to be boxed in by two attackers from opposite directions, preventing a retreat. Hence the reason for my insistence on having an office on the third floor. Too high to access from the ground level casually, but not too high that a last-minute jump through the window would kill me. 

It wasn’t paranoia when there were about half a dozen factions in the council as well as about two dozen different magical races across multiple dimensions were trying to get you with annoying persistence, reflected in both the regularity and the intensity of their assault. 

When I finally arrived at the street, I noticed that the traffic was rather heavy today, so I decided to walk to the crime scene. If I tried to drive my old, unreliable car to Hotel Glory, I would certainly be late, something I certainly didn’t want to happen when Detective Joanna was already in a terrible mood. 

For a pretty little thing, she certainly packed a painful punch. 

Ten minutes later, I was at the destination. The entrance of the hotel held nothing surprising. Yet another second-class hotel who thought a fancy design was enough to replace quality service and actual class, the bright yellow of the cordon tape mixing with the gaudy gold decorations of the hotel. 

“Where are you going,” one of the patrol officers darted toward me as I walked forward, ready to tackle me off the crime scene. Admittedly, with my shabby clothing, I didn’t look like someone that belonged to a crime scene unless I was the one being arrested. 

I didn’t bother to answer, knowing that my words would be dismissed by any unfamiliar — and many familiar — officer, instead reached to my inner pocket to pull a document that qualified as a freelance detective. The officer read that with a nasty expression. “If you think this means I have to allow a two-bit —” he started, but I interrupted him. 

“Detective Joanna is waiting for me, you might want to check with her first,” I said to him, amused by the way he suddenly blanched at the mention of the name, his macho act melting quicker than an ice cream hit by a fireball. “By the way, what did you said your name was, officer?” 

I wasn’t surprised by a lack of answer, or the speed he raised the cordon, inviting me inside. I had a feeling that, if I didn’t go in immediately, he would have dragged me by my arm. 

I passed through the empty hallways to arrive at a room on the second floor, only to find a surprisingly delicate hand pressing at my chest. A bit farther ahead, there was a cute face that wouldn’t be amiss on the cover of a fashion magazine if it wasn’t for the fury that was shining in her baby-blue eyes that would have intimidated a serial killer, unimpacted by the fact that her low vantage point, her head barely reaching to my shoulders even with the raised shoes she was wearing. 

Detective Joanna. A bundle of fury and justice wrapped in a cute brunette package, the bane of both the police and the criminals at the same time. 

“You’re late,” she growled. 

However, despite her anger, I just smirked widely. “Sorry about that, Detective, but unless you can triple my consulting fees or send a police car to pick me up, that’s the best I can do with my crappy car,” I said, much to the shock of some of the other uniformed officers, unable to believe me tempting Joanna’s anger.

When Joanna just grumbled before turning rather than trying to bite my head off, however, their shock intensified even further. 

As if Joanna could afford to turn down my help when they were trying to sink her reputation by assigning her the impossible cases, thanks to all the enemies she had made through her explosive temper. 

It was hard to believe the speed she might make enemies despite her beautiful eyes, round and beautiful face that was worthy of a sexy model seeking her big break, and a cute nose and lush lips that would be perfectly at home on the face of a movie star. smooth, with the kind of cute nose you'd expect on a star. Not to mention her amazing body, peeking through even her serious pantsuits, deliberately picked to be a size too big in a vain attempt to hide the curves underneath. She always dressed seriously, because, underneath her serious expression and tough clothes, there was a body fit for a cheerful cheerleader that would earn accolades during a half-time show in any professional sport. 

Hardly the thing to display for an ambitious Detective that was trying to make herself a career in an old-fashioned police station. 

Even with her amazing physical qualities, however, the thing that defined her was her anger, fiery and explosive. I actually had to test her blood to make sure she didn’t have any demon blood in her family, particularly with wrath demons. She really embodied their infamous reputation. 

I followed her, trying to resist the temptation to take a bigger step and going in front of her, something that teased her temper fiercely, not that her hair-trigger needed a lot of pressure to go off. Though opening a door for her, or god forbid, treating her like an actual pretty woman in front of her junior officers was much worse. 

Admittedly, considering she had to fight and claw and play dirty with some of the most macho and prejudiced men the planet had ever seen just to be taken half-serious as a homicide detective, her anger wasn’t undeserved. 

Just ill-advised. 

Still, her valid reasons weren’t enough for me from teasing her despite the obvious risks. Nor was her tenseness was enough, even as it stretched as tight as a misaligned piano wire. She kept it off her face, but there was something about the stiffness of her back, an unusual sharpness in her aura, that made me aware of it. Though, even that wasn’t the source of my reluctance. 

No, that honor went to the sharp smell that finally reached to my nose, a mixture of rotten meat and decay, all tainted with a thick magical signature that was even darker than the mortal connotations of those smells. 

Those smells never signified something positive as far as magic was concerned. 

It seemed that I needed to work hard…