Shadow of War

By Jak Lore

After narrowly escaping her confrontation with War, Rebecca Virtue finds herself fleeing across continents, relentlessly pursued by the ultimate living weapon. Realizing she is not yet prepared to face such a formidable adversary, Rebecca embarks on a perilous journey to finally discover where First Blood was first shed.

Joined

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mythic Legends Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Apr 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9781732353930

Book preview

SHADOW OF

WAR

Jak Lore

Published by Mythic Legends Publishing Inc.

2024

Copyright © 2024 by Jak Lore

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2024

ISBN 978-1-7323539-2-3

Mythic Legends Publishing Inc.

Elmwood Park, IL 60707

www.mythiclegends.com

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to places or real people, living or dead, is coincidental or used in a fictitious way.

Cover Art by Manthos Lappas

Edited by Tanya Grenier and Sarah Liu

All rights reserved.

Acknowledgments

I would like to dedicate this page to those who have helped and supported me throughout the writing of this book. I thank my parents who supported my desire to write this story. I thank my sisters who always asked how the book was progressing. I thank my friend Eufemio who let me bounce ideas off him for the basics of the story. I thank my friend Amy for her support and help during the final months of writing.

I would like to thank the cover artist Manthos Lappas for the spectacular artwork.

Finally, I would like to thank my editors, Tanya Grenier and Sarah Liu.

To all of you, I thank you.

In Memory Of

Megan Elizabeth Doyle

1983 – 2021

You Will Always Be Missed

One

I rest my head back against the seat and close my eyes, waiting for the abrupt stop of the van hitting the tree, but it never comes. It takes me a moment to realize the van is idling. We’re not moving anymore. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and I sob a little. My heart is aching. Michael, an angel, almost died. And it’s my fault. I didn’t know an angel could die.

I wipe my tears and open my eyes expecting to see the open road, trees, or sheer carnage. Instead, I’m greeted by the stone wall of a parking garage, with the morning sun shining down through the semi-open building. It was just night. How did we get here? I turn to ask Úna but am greeted only by an empty driver’s seat. She’s gone. I wish I could say I’m surprised, but she never sticks around for very long.

I reach over to turn the engine off, reigniting the pain in my body. The adrenaline of fighting War has subsided, bringing the aches and pains to the forefront. That was only moments ago, wasn’t it? With keys in hand, I flop back into my seat and take a deep breath. My nose fills with the smell of burnt leather and hair, and my nose crinkles. Pulling my long blonde hair in front of me, I discover the ends have been singed and frayed. War’s flamethrower. It was pure luck I was able to get out of that. My trench coat isn’t faring much better, having been covered in burns, cuts, and rips. Pushing the door open with my protesting body, I step into the brisk air. I close the door, then stare at my reflection in the window. Blue eyes, swollen and red from crying, stare back. Blood smears the side of my face. I wipe it away only to wince under sudden pain. My shirt, stained red, is wet and sticks to my body. I rest my head against the window and sigh. War really did a number on me. I reach for the Dagger of Power tethered at my side. At least I can clean up a little.

Mend, I say, passing the dagger over my body. The cuts and rips in my clothes seal, and the burnt patches disappear, and new fabric flows over it. The dirt and blood vanish. Looking back at the window, my tired reflection stares back and smiles weakly. Well, at least everything is in one piece now. My smile fades as blood begins to return to my shirt. I touch it only to have my body jerk in pain. Instinctively, I pull my hand away. There’s a cut down my chest. Great. I hold the coat closed to hide the blood. The buttons are missing. I need to go tally my injuries somewhere.

I open the side door and pull my oversized suitcase toward me. The smell of strawberries hits my nose as the suitcase pushes against a pool of clear liquid. Angel blood. Michael’s blood. I shake it off and open one of the suitcase’s outer pockets. I’ve been through a major fight, was badly beaten, have cuts and burns all over my body, and am bleeding. I pull out a bottle of perfume and spray it on me, trying to hide the scent of blood, burn, and dirt. I add it to my magical pockets before looking around for an exit. I spot an elevator and hobble over to it. The sky is clear and bright. What did Úna do? It was late at night when War attacked. How is it day? Where am I?

I get on the elevator and press the button for the ground floor. I’m on the seventh. The ride is nonstop, and the doors open to a transportation hub. There are stores on either side of me lining the walkway. It’s huge and busy, full of people. I step off the elevator and look around. I have no idea where I am and am a mess. I need to find a restroom where I can just disappear into a stall and be left alone to take care of myself. I’m in too much pain to just walk around looking for one, so I use the Sword of Might’s Clairvoyance ability. It isn’t the intended use of this power, and I feel weird closing my eyes and whispering, Show me the bathrooms.

I wait, but the sword doesn’t show me anything. Normally it shows me where I want to go and how to get there. This time, nothing. Is this so mundane it just refuses? I let out a sigh and start to walk. Hobble, really. Guess I’ll have to actually look for a restroom.

I drag myself along for a few minutes, not really looking for any signs and feeling foolish about trying to use the Sword of Might to find a bathroom. It seems so pathetic now. I’m so lost in my own head I don’t realize I’m in the ladies’ room and looking at the stalls. Wait, it did work? It didn’t show me this time. Instead, the location was in my head, and I followed it…as if I had been here many times before and instinctively knew. I crack a small smile. It functions more than just one way. That’s going to be interesting to figure out.

I take the handicapped stall for its space and hang my trench coat on the door hook, finding the blood has soaked fully into my shirt again. My body stretches upward as I remove my shirt with pained breaths, causing the wounds on my torso to burn. I take a few minutes to catch my breath, examining all the cuts and bruises on my body and along my arms. Most are mine, except the worst wound. The deep cut down across my chest, bleeding much heavier than the others belongs to War. It’s his wound, the one I had given him with the Sword of Might. He shared it with me, though I don’t think I left a mark on him. This would’ve been worse, but another ability activated, and my skin tightened. War called it Steel Skin. It absorbed some of the damage and kept the cut from being deeper. The slash burns, an effect the Heavenly Weapons have on anything divine, like War. When he shares his wounds, he shares every part of it. I just wish I knew why it’s worse on me.

I reach into my trench coat’s inner pocket for the first aid kit. The magic of the coat throws the kit into my hand almost instantly. Pouring peroxide onto a gauze, I know this is going to hurt. I use Mend on my shirt to get rid of the blood and twist it, then bite down hard. I howl into the makeshift gag the instant the peroxide touches the cut, causing it to burn even more. Fresh tears pour from my eyes, but I continue even as the pain forces me to my knees. Several pads of gauze later and I’m practically sobbing, but I’m done. My shirt plops onto the ground with very visible teeth marks. What I wouldn’t give to be able to cast the numb spell right now, but I’m out of chamomile flowers. Angel’s ointments would be helpful right now, but I’m not sure which does what and don’t want to continue using them blindly. I’m running low. I guess I’ll just use the Vicodin Jorge gave me.

I tape gauze along the gash to collect any draining blood and wrap my body with several bandage wraps. I don’t think anything is broken this time, which is a blessing considering. I strain to put on my shirt and struggle back to my feet. I’m slow putting my coat back on, trying not to agitate my wounds more than necessary. Finally, I come out and wash up at the sink. The water runs a mixture of red and black off my hands. My fingers sting. Not only is there dirt and grime encrusted under my nails, but my fingers are also covered in cuts. Washing the blood and dirt from my hands reveals the light scarring across their backs. I wash my face and hair, getting the dirt and burnt edges out. A few people come in and are appalled by me, making comments under their breath. My enhanced senses allow me to hear them all too clearly. Sorry ladies, but even a homeless girl like me deserves to be clean every once in a while.

After washing my hair, I wring what I can from it and comb my fingers through it. I apply a little more perfume to hide any lingering unpleasant scent of blood and dirt. Now to figure out exactly where I am.

It doesn’t take me long to learn I am indeed in Washington, DC, and this is Union Station. I thought the Union Station back home in Chicago was the only one. I told Úna I was going to the Library of Congress. She took me here?

Walking through the station trying to find out how to get to the Library of Congress, I pass by several restaurants. I ignore them but the smell of coffee, eggs, bacon, pancakes, donuts, and bagels fill my nose. My stomach twists and growls in protest. I’m starving again, but stopping to eat won’t help quell it. Of course, I don’t know if ignoring it will help either. Úna’s gift turned curse didn’t come with instructions. I opt to buy a few donuts to munch on and try to control the intense hunger. The best thing for me to do is to get away from the food.

Eating a donut as slowly as possible, I study one of the terminal displays. One of these has to take me to the Library of Congress. It doesn’t take me terribly long to map my way. Looking at the analog clock over the display, I find a bus that will leave in about half an hour and arrive at the library just before ten. I head to the bus stop and wait, finishing off the last of the donuts despite the audible growl of my stomach. Away from the smell of food, the cursed hunger should relax now. Slowly, more people line up at the stop waiting for the bus. When it finally arrives the bus fills quickly. With the Sword of Might hidden under the coat at my side, I decide it best to stand.

The bus ride isn’t long, only about ten minutes or so. The Library of Congress is close to Union Station. The bus is fairly crowded, and my pain flares up each time someone passes me to get off. The same happens when it’s my turn to pass through the crowd. The door swings open and I’m greeted by the massive Thomas Jefferson Building. I’m taken aback by its sheer, castle-like size. My main obstacle after entering the building is to pass security. Just like an airport, people are taking off their coats to be scanned. I pull the coat closed and look for a place to slink off to. I can bypass this entirely with Quickstep or Psionic Camouflage, but need to be out of sight to use either one.

You are not as sharp when you worry, Sweetness, an Irish voice quips from behind me. I turn to see a small redheaded girl with freckles covering her face. She dresses in a blue blouse with long, frilled sleeves. Her hair is clipped back, and her shoes clank against the ground as she walks up beside me, her green coat slung over her arm.

Úna, I say.

You have all the clues you need to understand their properties, yet you can’t fathom those properties, even after witnessing them firsthand.

I do know how to use their powers.

Úna points toward the checkpoint. Then why are you so afraid to approach if you have nothing to hide?

Because I do.

Úna glances up at me, her green eyes piercing into mine. I think this is actually the first time we’ve really stood next to each other. She’s shorter than me. Úna shrugs and looks ahead. You are not wrong. Let me ask you. How does one learn what no one else knows?

Discovery?

But how do you discover when what you seek is multilayered? When it is beyond your understanding? A fundamental truth, but has yet to be understood? Language will develop naturally over time. Complex ideas and law must be pieced together. Think back. Why did you begin this journey in the first place? What questions were you seeking answers to?

I pull at the ends of my jacket. Angel’s jacket. I saw Angel and panicked.

Why?

I had dreamed of him all my life. In my dreams, he was almost like a second father. I wanted to know who he was.

And what was the first clue you were given? For whose death did you blame yourself?

My fists clench, and my throat tightens. Melissa and her mother.

Do you remember why?

I nod. Because I asked her about Angel. She had gotten me the pictures, but she wanted to know more about him. Where he came from, why he was there. Tears begin to form, and I wipe them away with a sorrowful chuckle. I still don’t know how she got those. My eyes brighten with realization. The pictures. The sword! My hand pats it, hidden beneath the long trench coat. Only I can see the Heavenly Weapons…usually. The Thunderbirds could see them because I wanted them to. Otherwise, no one could, even on the hospital X-rays.

If only you applied yourself like this always.

Maybe if I was given a little more guidance. We left Berry behind. You dropped me off and abandoned me. What exactly am I supposed to think?

Úna smiles. You’re almost there. Keep thinking, Sweetness. You’ll get it.

I walk forward, exaggerating my hands. And with you as a teacher it’ll only take me a thousand years. The movements aggravate my wound and send pain rippling through my torso. My hands immediately clutch my chest. I guess I really need to rest, huh? I turn back to Úna, but she’s already disappeared. I scoff and shake my head. Figures. I step in line and wait my turn.

My heart beats harder as I approach the metal detector. My chest throbs in rhythm with my ever-increasing heart rate. A bead of sweat drips down the side of my face. My breathing becomes faster and shallower, forcing me to focus on controlling it so I don’t hyperventilate. I know no one will be able to see them, but I’ve also never had them so exposed either. Everyone who’s seen the Heavenly Weapons I’ve purposely shown them. At the hospital, no one could see them on the X-ray, just like in the picture Melissa had gotten me. I had hidden them away before anyone had a chance to physically treat me. What is going to happen when that machine picks them up and I’m patted down?

It’s my turn. I take off my trench coat and lay it on the belt. No one notices the Dagger of Power hanging on my right hip or the larger Sword of Might at my left. Fashioned as a straight sword with a blue cloth tail dangling down the side of the sheath, it’s hard to miss, but no one bats an eye. No one makes mention of the obviously illegal weapons I’m carrying and attempting to bring into a government building. I’m ordered through the metal detector and take a deep breath. The moment of truth. What happens now?

I step forward, mentally bracing for that buzzer, but the detector remains silent when I pass through it. The metal detector can’t see them. Whatever the Heavenly Weapons are made of, it’s not any type of metal we know or can detect. Relieved, I let out the breath I’d been holding. I grab my coat with shaking hands and continue on my way. I still don’t know why, but no one can see the Heavenly Weapons. At least not unless I want them to. Knowing this for certain now, it takes a huge burden off my shoulders.

Finally past security, I enter the library to begin researching ancient civilizations. Unfortunately, there’s another obstacle. This isn’t like a normal library where I can just come in and look at any book I want. There is more security here. If I want to even get near any books, I need a Reader ID. Great. I don’t have my fake IDs yet. Berry didn’t have a chance to give them to me, if she even had a chance to get them. She was too busy protecting me from War. Even if she did have them at that point, I wasn’t going to get them. I’ll have to use my real name. Being so far from Chicago, maybe it won’t matter. No one should be looking for me over here, so I should be okay.

The three buildings that make up the Library of Congress are all connected by underground tunnels. I have to go to the James Madison Memorial Building to get the Reader ID. The walk isn’t long, but I’m tired and in pain. Without any chamomile flowers, I can’t cast the numb spell, and it takes everything to hide my anguish. I’m relieved when I get to the desk and can just lean on it for a bit. I have to sign for the ID and am concerned about using my real name. Berry and I agreed to use an alias. I chose Ava Allison, but don’t have any of the fake IDs yet. It should be safe to use my real name. I’m a long way from the Midwest. I’ll be long gone from here if it does come back to haunt me.

With ID in hand, I’m finally inside. I begin searching for and compiling various books and magazines at a table. It takes me awhile since I have to stop and rest more than I’d like. At first I leave my trench coat to mark the table is taken, but don’t feel comfortable walking around with the Heavenly Weapons exposed. Knowing no one can see them only does so much to ease my mind. I still don’t know exactly how it works. I also worry about blood seeping through the bandages. None of my wounds are healed yet, and I’ve been hobbling through the building. No one is paying me any attention though, too busy with their own visit to the Library of Congress. Ultimately, I put my trench coat back on, to keep both the Heavenly Weapons and all my wounds hidden. Especially if I start to bleed again. After getting several piles to begin searching through, I relax into a seat and begin my research. As time passes, I find it easier to just sit and compile notes. It’s like I’m writing a report. It’s easy to focus. No magic. No demons. No gangs to deal with. Just schoolwork. After weeks of fighting, weeks of running, finally something familiar. It’s sad this is what makes me feel normal again. Like my world hasn’t fallen apart. As if I didn’t almost lose Michael for a second time. Tears fall onto the page of notes I’m taking. I wipe them away and try not to sob.

I almost lost him again. I didn’t know angels could die. I still don’t understand how that’s even possible. And it was my fault. I didn’t mean to call him from Heaven. I was just thinking about him, and he appeared. Just thinking about him, like I am now. I grab and shake my head. Stop, stop, stop, I chastise myself. He’s hurt. Let him rest.

So here you are, a voice says as a hand trails across my shoulders. I jump, thinking I called Michael again, and look at the woman hovering beside me. Her long silver hair hangs loosely about her shoulders and falls over one side. She smiles at me with her one good light blue eye. The left side of her face is covered by a blue layered face mask adorned with elaborate designs etched in silver. Faint scarring protrudes from the edge of the mask.

Berry, I say. Jumping out of my chair I throw my arms around her, taking her by surprise. You’re okay! The gesture causes the pain in my chest to burn anew, and I grimace but otherwise ignore it.

Yes, she says, awkwardly returning the embrace. Are you?

I take a step back, a pained look on my face and holding my chest. Yes, I’m okay. A little shaken and hurt, but okay. She doesn’t look like she was punched through a building only a few hours ago. She looks pretty relaxed in her trademark attire, the same set of clothes she’s worn since I met her. Silver pants with a slit on the outside of each leg the length of her shin. A shirt of dark blue hues with slits on the side from wrist to shoulder and topped by a silver vest. A white silk belt and golden-brown sandals finish her outfit.

That’s good. Just need a little rest, right? Berry turns her attention to my research and cocks her head to one side.

You look much better than I do, I say. What happened to War? Did you beat him?

Berry flips through the pages of some of the books and magazines. That’s something I don’t think I can do. The best strategy when battling War is to simply survive, not try to win.

That doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t you try to beat him?

Because the harder you fight, the harder he fights. It’s his way. He will only use the power he needs for a decisive victory. No more no less. Once you disappeared, I was able to make my escape. How did you manage to disappear so thoroughly for three days anyway?

Úna—wait! I was gone for three days?

Berry looks out at the library. Have you been here all this time?

No, I only just got here. I didn’t even realize so much time had passed. If you’ve found me already, War may not be far behind.

I doubt he’ll want to face you again just yet.

Why wouldn’t he? He attacked a hotel full of people because he thinks putting people in danger will make me fight harder or something. This is full of people!

True, but you are still injured. He knows this and wants you at your best, and only your best. He won’t come looking for a fight you’re not ready to give. He will wait for you to fully heal.

How can he possibly know when I’m fully healed?

Berry presses her finger against my chest, making me flinch. That. It’s from the Sword of Might, isn’t it?

Yeah. How’d you know?

After three days, it still is not healed. It’s the only wound that won’t. It’s War’s wound. He’ll know you’re fully healed when he is.

I show my cut-up hands to Berry. I haven’t healed at all, Berry. He’ll be ahead of me.

Berry takes my hands and examines them. Why haven’t you been sleeping?

Because I blinked and it was three days later. I didn’t know Úna could push me through time.

She can’t. That’s simply not possible. There must be another reason for you to think you moved three days through time. Even angels cannot do that. Berry picks up one of the National Geographic magazines from the table. Now what exactly are you searching for with all this?

Clues to find the First.

Ah yes, the shedding of First Blood. Have you discovered anything?

A lot of questions. I was taught humans came out of Africa thousands of years ago. I thought I just had to find the place civilization first rose, but there seems to be four different places, and only two are in Africa.

Many different societies rose independent of one another all over the world. You say you are seeking the First. What is that exactly?

All I know is that he’s a True Form. I think he’s the other half of War.

Berry takes a speculative breath. Rebecca, I am very old. I have seen and know of many things. These True Forms are something new to me. I don’t know what they are, which makes me uneasy.

You’ve met one, remember? That girl Úna, the one you had an argument with in Michigan? She’s a True Form.

Berry puts the magazine back on the table. Things have been dying for a very long time. Creatures have killed other creatures long before they even had blood to spill. ♯♩♫ is what created the onset of blood in the first place.

Did you just sing some kind of melody?

Berry speaks again, a short, beautiful melody escaping her lips for about half a second. It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard. It’s the Angelic tongue, she says.

It sounds so beautiful, but what does it mean?

Berry taps her chin. How to explain it? Humans are still struggling with the concept itself, calling it theistic evolution, but that’s not quite right. What would be a suitable translation? She repeats the Angelic phrase a few times, switching to languages I don’t understand between each melody. Creavolution, Berry decides on.

I don’t understand.

Humans maintain two schools of thought when it comes to the origin of life on this planet, which you are only now trying to reconcile. The first and oldest is Creationism. The specifics of the story may change depending on the people telling it, but at the end of the story God created the heavens and earth, and all life therein. The second school of thought is the theory of evolution. You’re familiar with it, yes?

We learned that in school. It’s how things gradually change over time, becoming something else.

That’s a simple way to put it. What humans don’t understand is that these schools of thought have never been exclusive to one another. They work in tandem.

How?

God did not just create the universe and everything within, He also created the rules that govern it. The world you live in today is the result of those rules in action. While God may not have had a direct hand in the world you see today, He did have an indirect hand because it was His rules that made things the way they are.

So, our discoveries of how the universe works are just our discoveries of the rules God created?

Yes. You were the last thing He created. Berry boops my nose as she says this. My nose wrinkles under a slight static charge. The world is alive and changing. What was here in the beginning would not survive today. Evolution was the mechanism to allow early organisms to adapt to a changing environment. It is how life continues.

If life is dependent on random mutations, how can any of it be designed?

I never said it was random. It’s true a large portion of the mutations that fill the process of evolution are random, but not all are. Some are purposeful. Two things can be nearly identical, having only a minute but very specific change in its make up. These changes are needed to continue the population into whatever it is to become. Even if the end of that road is oblivion.

I sit down, taking it all in for a moment. So, our science is just understanding God?

Well, not exactly, but I guess that’s one way to look at it.

I look at my notes on the four different origins of civilization. It baffles me even more now. This is so confusing, I say, rubbing my temples. What does that mean about these civilizations? Did we evolve or were we created?

Berry chuckles. Humans are so arrogant and bullheaded. You simply can’t fathom both are correct. How else could so much happen so far apart in so little time?

I groan trying to wrap my mind around this. Úna said to look at the clues, so look at the clues, girl. Adam and Eve were created, like Creationism says, but the rest of humanity evolved, like science says.

Is that so hard to understand?

I stare at her for a moment. Yes.

If you say so. It’s getting late. This place will close soon. What do you want to do?

There are still a few hours before close. It’s only two.

It’s three, and you have many things here. We must decide what to do with them.

No, it’s two. I just checked— I stop, trying to remember the last time I looked at a clock. It was at Union Station. But it’s two in Chicago, right?

Berry nods.

How do I know what time it is in Chicago without looking at a clock?

You are learning other ways to tell time but still base these ways on what you are used to. You’re human, after all.

I look at the books on the table. I want to take some out, but I’m not allowed. I pick up my notebook and put it back into my coat pocket, which disappears into the coat’s magic.

Divine law trumps mortal law, right? I ask.

When they conflict, yes.

I need these, so I’m going to take them.

Berry nods, and we choose a few books to hide away in my coat’s magical pockets. Even if I’m stopped and searched, no one will find anything except empty pockets. Help me put the rest of these away, and let’s get going.

Of course, Berry says with a smile.

—Interlude—

Jeff was finishing a cup of coffee in the small diner he had been asked to meet at. He still didn’t know this contact’s name, and what the chief had said worried him. He trusted his chief, but what exactly was he stepping into? Jeff had no idea when that phone call was going to come in and didn’t want to miss it. His wife, Hellen, had decided to move back in with her parents to grieve while Jeff grieved his own way. She just couldn’t take how focused he was on the case but wanted Angel to pay so badly. She said nothing to her husband except that she was going to get out of his way and she loved him.

Jeff had spent the following two weeks going over any information he had on the case, pulling every report and news article, every picture, and broadcast while waiting for that phone call. The call finally came during one of the short periods he wasn’t in the office. Jeff cursed his luck when he listened to the message on his voicemail. It gave only a date, time, and location. Now, a week later, Jeff was pouring his second cup from the coffee carafe the waitress had left, while waiting at that location.

Jeff watched every person that came into the diner, wondering who had left the message. Wondering who his chief had set him up to work with. Jeff knew immediately who that person was when Daniel Esposito came in the door. You’re fucking kidding me, Jeff cursed under his breath. Daniel spoke with the front staff who pointed him in Jeff’s direction. He smiled and waved to the staff before heading toward Jeff carrying a file folder.

Jeff tensed as Daniel sat across from him. Jeffery Cragoff? Daniel asked, offering his hand.

Jeff hesitated. If he said no, he could probably leave without causing any ire. Then again, the chief said there was no backing out once he agreed, which is why he was there and seated across from a Mafia caporegime. The chief warned him where this would lead. How dark it could go. Jeff ignored the warning. Was catching his son’s killer and bringing him to justice important enough to do what he had always told his son not to do? Don’t put up with criminals?

Jeff reached out and took Daniel’s hand. Mr. Esposito, Jeff said.

Please, call me Danny, Daniel said. Jeff, can I call you Jeff?

Sure…Danny.

Wonderful. Now, I can’t help but notice you look rather stunned to see me.

I do wonder exactly why you’re interested in this case.

The smile Daniel had worn instantly turned into a scowl. Because the same person who killed your son killed my niece and sister.

And you don’t touch family.

No, you don’t. I’m glad you understand, Jeff. It will make this a lot easier.

I don’t understand. Why do you want to work with me?

Daniel opened his folder and took out a few pictures. Straight to the point. I like that. He faced the pictures to Jeff and pushed them forward. Look familiar?

Jeff took the picture as a waitress came to the table. He tried to hide his surprise, betraying only a raised eyebrow. It was a picture of Angel from a security camera with his massive sword strapped to his back. It was the same set of pictures Rebecca had given him. How did you get these?

Daniel took a coffee mug from the waitress and sent her away. How do you think she got them?

I didn’t mention anyone.

Daniel filled his mug with a few packets of sugar and creamer before pouring coffee into it. Let’s not play games, Jeff. You know who I’m talking about. It’s why we’re here.

Jeff stared at the pictures briefly before answering. Melissa is your niece, isn’t she?

Was, but yeah. She called me asking for something her friend wanted. Information on some guy she saw. Melissa didn’t give me much to go on or why her friend wanted the information. This guy was seen roaming some very specific places and making suspicious purchases for almost a week. I had been keeping tabs on him. Now what I can’t figure out, is why did her friend want information on him.

What do you know about him?

He showed up on a Greyhound bus the Thursday before the first murder. He was casing the area, specifically the school and Samuel Santano’s house. He came for something. Very much seemed like a man on a mission.

Do you know where he’s from?

I was able to track him back to Laredo, Texas. I lost him there. If you can give me a last name, I might be able to find out where he came from.

Unfortunately, he wouldn’t give us a last name, but I do know we recently got a hit on his prints.

And?

A John Doe. They’re running the prints again. They show up in different cold cases dating back over sixty years.

Angel’s not that old. He’s early thirties at most.

Right now, that’s all we got to go on.

Can you get me those cases? Maybe I can use them to track him, figure out where he’s from.

I might. I’ll need some time though.

That’s fine. The other two will probably be easier to track. With luck, lead us to Angel.

What other two?

Samuel Santano and Rebecca Virtue.

I understand Samuel, but why Rebecca?

Daniel looked at Jeff and took a deep breath. He sipped his coffee and took that moment to compose himself. Let’s just put all the cards on the table and stop pretending like we don’t know. Rebecca gave you the pictures. Melissa gave them to Rebecca. I got them for Melissa.

Fine. Jeff poured himself another cup of coffee, adding only a packet of sugar and