Scorpion's Kiss: An Accidental Zodiac Story

By Cherron Riser

Follow the music. The case called to Serina like none of the others she had worked on. After ten years working at the Zodiac Enforcement Agency, going from desk job to being an agent, she had finally found the case that made her mind spin. Not much was known about her target other than the sound of music from the scene of his crimes. The songs told a story, and Serina had every intention of hearing the end.

Through time and space, Serina chased her Music Man. Each scene created more questions than answers until it became an obsession—a mystery she would do almost anything to solve. The attacks seemed like more than malice, and Serina wanted to find the answer, even if it meant skirting a little closer to the forbidden edge. She could handle it, and when she found him, he would taste her Scorpion’s Kiss.

An Accidental Zodiacs Novel

About the Accidental Zodiac shared world: There are three types of Zodiacs: The Sinless who live life in goodness and light, their blue auras shining like beacons of hope. The Wanderers, their purple essence telling others they walk a fine line between good and evil. Then there’s The Fallen, the evil. The ones who use their powers to enhance their lives at any cost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celtic Hearts Press
• Release date: Aug 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781949575699

Book preview

Chapter

One

Another file slapped down onto my desk, adding to my ever-growing pile of cases. Being part of the Zodiac Enforcement Agency, or ZEA for short, was never without constant changes. We policed the Zodiacs who were using their powers to seriously screw up the world. In other words, magic abuse. I had known that from the time I started working here, and my goal was to make my world a better place. As cheesy as that sounded, it was the only thing that had ever mattered to me. Not that I wanted some sort of perfect utopia with everyone always perfectly behaved, but at some point, it was important to be safe. I had no idea it would be so much work.

I started at the agency in my early twenties in an attempt to keep myself on the path of the Sinless. Being young and impressionable, I was happy working behind the desk, doing the jobs no one else wanted, and my days were filled with completing reports and organizing files. I was such a nerd, but the longer I did it, the more I realized I wanted to be part of the action. My fingers would itch with ideas on how to handle cases. I couldn’t stop suggesting solutions or giving my opinion on who or where to find the answers. At first, it annoyed the crap out of my bosses. That was until they started to see I was right. It still annoyed some of them. From there I began to make the necessary steps to go from desk jockey to agent. The transition was the right fit for me even though others made it unnecessarily difficult.

I found that not only did I have the mental capacity for field work, but I also was far more athletic than anyone, including me, thought. With a hell of a lot of practice, I was able to hone my natural ability into precision and skill.

My Sifu went out of his way to kick my ass, I mean train me. Later he said it was because he knew I could handle it, and it would make me better. I’m still not sure if he was full of shit or not. I did, however, get a black belt in jujitsu in record time, as well as some Krav Maga. Still people did not take me seriously here, which was why I tended to get shit jobs no one wanted or seemed too difficult to solve. Part of me wondered if someone was waiting to see me fail, which was why I hadn’t.

Got you another one, Serina, Becky, the girl who had taken my place behind the desk, said as she plopped another file down, making the slightly lopsided stack quiver. Thankfully it didn’t topple over. She was in her early twenties, fresh out of college, just as I had been when getting started. However, she looked like a teenager. Her blonde hair was kept in a high ponytail, and her makeup was light and natural on her pale pink skin. She dressed in fifties-style dresses and cute little black-buckled shoes. I often wondered why Becky had chosen that as her style, but I could never deny the fact the girl was well put together.

I looked nothing like Becky. My hair was nearly black with soft wavy curls resting just at my shoulders. It complemented my dark eyes and deeply tan skin. I was tall and slender, though I had enough curves to allow for a couple of good handfuls if the right person managed to get ahold of me.

Not that anyone had gotten their hands on me in a while. With how much I worked, the only guys I really got to see were my coworkers. That meant they were either good boys who were married with 2.5 kids and a dog, or they were playing the field and taking home whichever Zodiac-obsessed girl they found at the bar. Besides, I wasn’t the type to mix pleasure and business.

You love to keep me in work. Don’t you? I sighed, grabbing the file.

Well, at least these last two are related. They both seem to have something to do with music. I figured I would give you both of the cases, as they may be the same person. If anyone can figure it out, you can. Besides, I don’t keep you in work, the bad people do. Becky popped her gum and gave one of those cute girl grins that only really sweet and innocent people can pull off.

That’s when Raul, my direct boss, came slithering over. I could never quite figure out Raul. Some days he looked sharp and ready for action, but other days he seemed a bit rough for wear. Maybe it was because he was a Gemini. He was of average height with a pot belly where his once rock-hard abs used to be. His brown hair, now peppered with silver, was pulled back and braided down between his shoulders. His beard was trimmed nice and neat today, though other days it was scraggly and puffed out. He wore a nice off-the-rack suit and freshly ironed shirt.

Damn, you have a lot on your plate. Becky let’s get these other files delegated out. I want Serina working full time on this. Raul growled in a voice that always sounded like he was crunching gravel in his throat. He picked up the two new files and set them down directly in front of me.

You are taking my cases? I was offended but did my best to hide how I really felt. It was a talent. Instead, I let my voice hold the question without any extra inflection.

Something about this music man needs more attention. I want you on it full time. Something tells me it isn’t going to stop here, Raul said, turning to head back toward his office.

Well, I guess that works. I was about to head out on this one, but it isn’t anything big deal. I handed Becky the other file I had been looking at, and she bounced off in the most bubble-gum happy way possible. It made me sad to think I could never pull off being so chipper. I mean, I could, but I would probably look like a drunk stumbling downstairs. Before my time in the agency, I might could have pulled it off, but not anymore. The work left me a little more jaded than I wanted to admit.

It was peculiar how Raul had decided to take so much work off of me, but the idea of having to hunt down someone he was worried about thrilled me. The cogs in my head started to churn, ticking away at how to approach the case. First, I needed to figure out exactly what the case was.

I opened up the first file and started going through the information. Timothy Hopper Santini was a member of the mafia. He had been sliced up in several places, all of the gashes cauterized upon contact as if being sliced by some sort of fire. Was the attacker using a lightsaber? No, that was silly. But they must have been using some sort of enchanted weapon. Either that or they enjoyed walking around with a plasma cutter. That didn’t seem very plausible, especially if the case had ended up on my desk.

Okay, so the suspect killed a known criminal with a bad rap sheet longer than my leg. That was certainly something to file away. Pulling out a notebook, I began to jot down any relevant information I could. No witnesses were listed other than someone who claimed to hear music coming from the alley. The body had been found outside of a club, The Brass Umbrella. I had never been there, but I had heard rumors of it. Most of the time the sultry jazz and flowing liquor was a cover for criminal groups and mafia figures doing business. Again, not the type of criminals I usually hunted.

After adding a few more notes to my book, I opened the second file. Once again, the victim was some sort of known criminal. Lamar Swift McCall. Most of the information on the man was about small-time crimes like dealing drugs and moving shipments of things between different bosses. He was still young enough that his rap sheet was relatively short.

However, once again, the victim was found dead with the cause of death listed as cauterized lacerations. At least one witness, Misha Collins, claimed to hear someone singing before she found the body. Swift didn’t seem to have mafia connections, but there was no telling if he had worked for someone who also worked for someone. It was worth taking a deeper dive into.

The file contained contact information for Misha Collins, which I also listed in my notebook. It wasn’t like I was going to carry the files around with me to start investigating. I would make a stop by the first crime scene and then head over to get a statement from Misha. Packing the files up, I grabbed my motorcycle jacket and headed to the elevator.

Summer in Atlanta was hot and often lasted for nine months of the year. Nearly every afternoon we would get a decent thunderstorm, lasting anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour. The roads were slick, but already the blistering heat had the puddles evaporating like steam. It was hard to breathe through the humidity, but after a while, it just became normal. I had met people who didn’t grow up in the Southeast, and they