The Artificer

12 March 2015. Newcrest, Massachusetts, New England.

One of my teacher’s favorite lessons involved ordinary objects, things so mundane normal people rarely even gave them a second glance: paper clips, note pads, tissue paper, coins, pens, and so on. “The journey of life is about becoming. One thing becomes something else. Normal things become magical, magical things become extraordinary, extraordinary things become legendary,” she always claimed. In her world, anything could become more than it was with a little help.

She always said I had a gift for magical infusion. Magical infusion is the start of becoming more, my teacher always said. It is the art of infusing ordinary everyday objects with magical energy, transforming them into magical items. This art is exclusive to mages known as Artificers. Unlike your popular wizards like Gandalf or Harry Potter, I couldn’t cast a spell to save my life. Caught flat-footed, I’d be no different from a normal person. Artificers, on the other hand, are all about preparation. My teacher always told me that a prepared Artificer would beat any other mage, hands down. A naked Artificer, on the other hand, is just another helpless human being.

My name is Scott Cole, Apprentice Artificer, Ninth Class. And right now, I was in an alley staring at a corpse that had been mangled by something inhuman. “What do we have, Cole? Don’t keep us in suspense.” That was Detective Janice Renee McGinnis, Homicide Division, who we simply called JR. My day job was as a forensics consultant for the Newcrest police department.

I swept my long dark coat back as I bent down to stare at the corpse. The victim was male, looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, approximately 7 inches over 5 feet in height and 200 pounds. He didn’t look very fit but he wasn’t exactly a weakling either, in a cheap gray suit coupled with a stained tie. He looked like an office worker or government employee on his way home from work. Blood was everywhere, splashed onto the walls and flowing on the ground. Hideous wounds covered the man’s body, from his neck down to his legs. Whoever did this had enjoyed it a little too much.

I tapped my glasses twice and spoke the activation word under my breath, “Deprendo.” The lenses flickered a golden yellow for a split second. In my view, the body suffused a golden glow, with the wounds a deep crimson in contrast. “Those wounds appear rough and uneven, indicative of natural weaponry like claws or teeth. Look at the edges, they look torn, not sliced. Lots of defensive wounds on the forearms and knees. Looks like our victim put up quite a struggle. Have the medical examiner send samples of any hair or fibers to the lab for identification. Something this violent has to have left trace evidence. Looks like an animal attack if you ask me, JR.”

“In the middle of the city? Are you insane?” JR scoffed at my assessment. She was a tall, svelte detective with auburn hair in a bob cut. She ran a hand through her hair and pursed her full pouty lips before pulling out a notepad and taking down most of what I had said.

“Hey, I’m just calling it as I see it,” I replied defensively. “It’s your job to figure out the rest.”

She pulled me aside out of earshot of the other cops. “You don’t think it’s… You know, that other thing?”

JR was one of the few police officers who were aware of the magical world. I shook my head. “Too early to say. From what I can see, there’s no magical residue on the wounds or the body. That doesn’t mean it’s not magical, just that it’s not directly magical, if you catch my drift. There’s no lingering mana or energy that I can detect.”

 She sighed at that. “I’ll let you know what the lab finds out.”

 ***

Two days later, my phone rang. It was JR. She said one word. “Rats.”

I sat up in my chair. “Rats? Are you sure?”

JR’s voice sounded tired and annoyed. “I have the lab report right here. Hair from the victim’s fingernails show rat hair and bits of skin.”

“No rat is big enough to take down a man, not with wounds like that,” I muttered, more to myself than JR. “Not even if it’s a horde of rats. Unless…”

“It’s that other thing, isn’t it,” JR said, her voice resigned.

“Maybe,” I ventured. “I’ll need some help on this one, JR. And some items.”

Her voice was tinged with suspicion and a hint of revulsion. “What items? Like bat wings or bird crap?”

I sighed. “Not even close. We’ll need a standard-issue riot shield. And some markers, preferably red.”

JR sounded relieved at that. “That I can handle. But where are we going?”

“Where else do you go to find rats? The sewers, of course.”

***

JR hefted the riot shield as we descended into the sewers. I wanted to act all chivalrous and tried to carry the shield for her earlier but found out it weighed a ton and a half. She just snickered as she picked it up with one hand. Show-off.

Since this wasn’t exactly a sanctioned police operation, we had to do this at night. Besides, giant rats are nocturnal anyway. We started at the nearest storm grate from where we had found the victim. Once we entered the sewers, I tapped on a different pair of glasses and recited the activation incantation. “Deprendo gigas rattas.”

The lenses flickered golden once again before my view became a bright sunlight yellow, interspersed with the dark blue tracks of, presumably, the giant rat or rats. I pointed the way and followed behind JR and her shield. It took over two hours of mindless tracking in the sewers before we stumbled onto one.

The giant rat we found was a full 4.5 feet from tail to nose. It gave a screech when it saw us approach and attacked without hesitation. Fortunately, JR had the shield handy and the rat slammed into the shield, its claws scrabbling at the steel and plastic barrier. I reached into my jacket pocket and took out a red marker, now with delicate runic etchings on its cheap plastic frame. Elemental infusion is the most basic of artificer skills. It’s the hallmark of any apprentice artificer. Focusing on a particular element, the artificer injects inert mana tinged with the specific element into the object. Once done, the object becomes a repository of that elemental inert mana, waiting to be released at the artificer’s command.

JR already had her gun out but I grabbed her arm before she could shoot the creature. “That gun will bring the whole pack down on our heads,” I hissed in warning. “Just block him, I’ll take care of the rest.”

Struggling with the shield, JR’s eyes widened as she saw the marker in my hand. “You’re gonna kill it with a marker?”

“In this case, the pen is mightier than the sword,” I grinned as I carefully pointed at the beast with my infused marker. “Just make sure to block it with that shield.” While it was busy attacking JR, it didn’t perceive me as a threat. That would soon change. “Ignis.” My red marker glowed white-hot as a searing bolt of flame shot out and slammed into the rat, setting its fur ablaze. It took 6 shots of flame to down the giant rat. Its smoldering corpse dropped to the sewer floor, twitching in its death throes.

JR stared at my marker even as I discarded it into the sewer. It hissed and smoked as it made contact with the dirty water. The runes looked burned out as the mana I’d infused had been used up in the battle. The marker itself was essentially useless now, its ink having been replaced by fire element mana. “You weren’t kidding about the marker.”
I grinned and shook my head. “I never joke about pens, my friend. Unfortunately, we don’t have enough firepower to clear this nest out tonight. After all, you only gave me 3 markers. Like any gun, we’ll run out of bullets. I just used up that marker taking one giant rat down. We can take out 2 more before we call it a night.”

JR nodded in understanding. “How many of these are in a typical nest?”

“Around thirty.”

***

Back in my apartment, I opened a newly bought box of red markers. This is gonna be a long week, I thought.
I had a needle I’d infused with a combination of elemental earth and water mana to make it strong while easily able to conduct magical energy. With it, I started the etching process, all the while injecting elemental fire into the runes. If I wanted something that could retain more elemental mana, I’d have to use different materials. The markers were cheap and essentially single-use items. For something to retain a larger amount of injected elemental mana, it would have to be much denser or more rigid in composition. A rod made of, say, iridium (the densest metal on the planet) could retain a near infinite amount of elemental mana.

As I worked, the apartment’s temperature dropped accordingly. I was effectively “borrowing” heat from the environment and converting it into inert elemental fire mana for infusion. After a while, I had to stop as my breath fogged the air. The apartment’s thermometer read -15C. My windows had fogged up and were starting to frost over from the cold.

***

Two weeks later, we had mostly cleared out the giant rats. I had to use a few earth infused coins to reinforce the riot shield with increased defensive capabilities otherwise we’d have used up 5 or 6 of them in the process. Instead, we burned out 20 pennies. Even though the nest was heavily weakened, there was still a mystery to be solved. There was no reason for the nest of giant rats to even be in this city. Something, or someone, had driven them from their usual countryside environment into the urban jungle. JR and I were at a diner across the precinct to discuss our progress. All the men in the diner stared at me with envy but I paid them no heed. Neither did JR.

“These things are a symptom, JR,” I mentioned to the detective. “They’re not the disease. They’re very big magical rats, true, but they’re really just animals who were driven from their natural habitat. We need to find out where that used to be and why they moved here.”

JR arched an impeccably curved eyebrow. “You’re an environmentalist now? You think this isn’t the last of them?”

I nodded. “They’re the vanguard, the most easily displaced. They’re still rodents, after all,” I reminded her. “The tougher ones will take longer to move but if the cause remains and is strong enough, they’ll come here and disrupt this city.”

The detective nodded in understanding. “We need to find where they came from and what changed there. How do we do that? We can’t exactly interrogate a giant rat. Can we?” At this point, nothing could surprise her anymore. I chuckled at the look on her face.

“No, we cannot interrogate the giant rats, JR,” I confirmed. “But every pack has a leader. And we haven’t run into him yet. The leader of a giant rat pack is intelligent and can be interrogated.”

“The leader? Let me guess,” JR sighed at the thought. “He’s bigger, stronger, tougher, faster, and smarter than any of the minions we’ve dealt with so far. And because we’ve been killing his pack, he’s not gonna be happy about it. We’re gonna need to isolate him from the others, restrain him, then interrogate him. Got a plan?”

I shook my head. “Not right now. You do know that the leader of a giant rat pack isn’t a rat right?”

“Not. A. Rat?”

I laughed out loud. “The leader of a giant rat pack is human actually. Think dog whisperer, only with rats and other vermin. You were imagining a talking man-sized rat weren’t you? It’s an easy mistake to make but just because he’s human doesn’t make him less dangerous. Even more so, this type of scum can even cast spells and have superhuman abilities, not to mention being armed and dangerous. His lair will also be protected and booby trapped, with multiple exits for a quick getaway.”

The detective shook her head. “Fighting him on his turf would be suicide. We need to make him come to us.”

I nodded in agreement. “Find us a place we can convert into an interrogation room that’s accessible from the sewers. We need to make preparations. And we’ll need bait.”

“I’ve got a couple of places in mind already,” JR noted as she rose from her seat. “Let me make a few calls. Anything you need for your preparations?”

“Chains. Around 3 feet should suffice to restrain a man-sized creature. Police issue bulletproof vests for both of us. And 2 pairs of cuffs, just in case. I can take care of the rest.”

***

True to her word, JR was able to come up with everything I needed in a few days’ time.

The chains were the greatest challenge. I had to carefully etch runes into each and every link of the 3-foot long chain, rendering it stronger and tougher than normal chain. Also, it would respond to my commands. I took a run-of-the-mill 1-inch nail and used a pair of pre-enchanted tongs to hold it in place. Like a ballpoint pen, I poured elemental earth and water magic into the nail, allowing it to etch fine lines onto the metal of the chains. Repeating the process for every link took me the better part of two weeks. I did the same for the cuffs. Once I finished the rune etchings, I placed them on an altar directly over an intersection of ley lines and lit candles at each cardinal direction. Focusing my energy, I drew elemental wind magic into the metal. “Animo metallum! Suffragium revincio!” With the incantation, the etchings glowed red, then yellow, then white before receding into black.

For the vests, I infused them with earth element magic, making it the equivalent of magical plate mail. Ordinary magic marker (yes, I see the irony there) was more than sufficient for that job. Drawing runes in blank ink on black kevlar made the runes practically invisible. Once completed, I placed one hand on the runes, another on a large boulder I had procured earlier, and spoke the incantation. “Magus armatus!” The runes flashed a bright green before fading into invisibility even as the boulder crumbled into dust.

In addition, I prepped a few contingencies. Just in case.

Aside from my usual thick red marker, I now had blue, green, and black markers in my coat pocket, as well as 4 inscribed pencils. I wore a long black leather coat over my vest. On my right wrist, I wore my Charriol bracelet made from twisted metal cables on which I attached several infused metal coins with nylon string. On my left wrist, I had my Rolex Oyster Perpetual wristwatch, a gift from my teacher. I had more coins and a few paperclips in the pockets of my jeans. With this, I set off to meet with JR to take on the leader of the giant rats.

***

“You sure this is going to work?” JR whispered. At this distance, her perfume was distracting as hell but I stayed focused on the mission. Hooray me.

“If I scattered the remains of your mates in the sewers, I think you’d be pretty mad,” I replied. Eyes narrowed, I tapped on my glasses. “Visio tenebrae,” I hissed and my vision in the pitch dark sewer lit up like it was early afternoon. From afar, we heard an indistinct roar. “I think we got his attention. Get the shield ready.”

“For the record, I scattered the remains, not you,” she reminded me. “For a forensics guy, you’re pretty squeamish.” I shrugged and pointed towards the sounds. I tried to scatter the remains, I really did. After I vomited three times, JR took matters into her own hands.

JR hefted the shield and turned to face the sewer tunnel in the direction of the roar. Taped to the inside of the shield were 4 coins. I waved my hand at the coins to replenish their earth element mana, taking some from the ground we were standing on, which softened it slightly. “Suffragium.” We were at an intersection of two tunnels and I had placed a pencil at each corner of the intersection. Our position led eastward if we opted to retreat. Soon, loud splashes and grunts could be heard coming our way.

“Rat-killers! You’ll pay with your lives!” He sounded enraged even as he ran towards our general direction. He spotted us as he turned a corner. He was massive, a full 8 inches over 6 feet with broad shoulders and muscular arms. His hair was long and stringy and so much dirt covered his face we could barely make out his features. He wore a shirt and jeans but dirt and grime made everything just look black. “You! I’ll kill you!”

“Freeze! This is the police!” JR pointed his gun at the man. “We just want to ask you some questions.”

The man roared and charged. Clearly, he didn’t feel like talking. We started to take a step back, a bit at a time. The moment he reached the intersection, I pointed and released the spell. “Inretio!” The pencils, which I’d infused with highly compatible wood element mana, sprouted vines which quickly wrapped themselves around his feet and legs. The entanglement wouldn’t last but it delayed him a bit.

He stared when I released the spell. “Mage! You’re a dead man!” He roared again and, with a surprising display of strength, tore the vines apart with his bare hands. He reached behind him and pulled out a huge handgun, a 44-caliber Desert Eagle. We quickly hid behind the riot shield as he shot round after round at us even as we retreated backward at a steady pace. The bullets slammed into the enchanted shield but didn’t penetrate it. The coins were beginning to smolder and fall off the shield when, with a grunt of disgust, he threw away the gun and charged at us, slamming his shoulder into the shield. Even braced for impact, JR was no match for the force of the charge and flew backwards, slamming into the nearest sewer wall. I managed to dodge to one side and raised my bracelet in a warding gesture. “Scutum vitae!”

A shimmering wall of force sprang up in front of me as the enraged pack leader turned and smashed both fists right at a seemingly defenseless mage. His massive arms stopped short, blocked by the wall of force I had conjured up. He pounded on them repeatedly as I quickly took out a water element infused blue marker and pointed it at him. “Infriga!” An azure  beam of arctic cold hit him in the chest slowing his actions and dropping his body temperature. I took the chance to run to JR and help her up.

“Come on! That won’t slow him down for long!” I shouted, taking a look backward. Already, he was shaking off the effects of the frost ray.

We took a left at the corner and kept on running until we saw a metal doorway. This was the boiler room and the cast iron door could be locked from the inside. Without hesitation, we dove in and locked the door behind us. In a moment, we heard the pounding of his fists on the door and the metal shuddered as it seemed about to give way.

I nodded at JR as she placed the chains carefully to the side of the door, behind it when it swings open. We crouched near the opposite wall and I took out a black marker.

The pounding was relentless and unceasing until the door gave in with a screech of protesting metal. It swung ponderously open. The moment I spied our target, I rose and pointed the marker. “Oculus tenebrae!” A beam of pure darkness shot out of the pen but the rat pack leader dodged to one side.

“Puny mage,” he scoffed, voice a deep bass. “I will break every bone in your body. You will scream but no one will hear. Your policewoman friend is pretty. I think I’ll keep her as my own. We can have many ratling babies together. Har har har!”

I drew out a red marker and pointed it at him. “Ignis!” Bolts of flame shot into him but he slapped them away like flies. JR began firing her gun but the bullets didn’t seem to have any effect on the brute. Step by step, he entered the room.

I dug into my pocket and drew out a bunch of paperclips which I threw directly at him. “Fulmen prendo!” Sparks flew between the clips, electrifying the air and catching the brute unawares. Like a taser, it zapped him into temporary paralysis.

Raising both hands, I shouted the activation spell at the top of my lungs. “Coercio relligo!” The chains we had stowed away flashed with the air and earth element mana I had painstakingly infused, it rose from its spot and snaked around the brute’s semi-paralyzed form, wrapping itself around him and binding him into immobility. JR and I quickly scooted over and clapped the enchanted cuffs over his wrists and ankles, taking no chances.

As silence descended, JR leaned against a nearby wall. “I definitely need a bigger gun.”

***

We placed the unconscious rat pack leader on a metal chair, still bound. After a while, he woke up, still groggy. He tested his bonds, struggling against them with all his prodigious strength. The runic writing on the chains glowed and started to smolder but held him in place, the cuffs also remained unyielding. He glared at us from beneath bushy brows, his eyes full of killing intent. “Rat killers! You may torture me all you want. I’ll resist you till the end.”

I shook my head as I sat in the chair opposite his. “We just have some questions for you. We know you’re not here by choice. Giant rat packs hate coming to the big cities. Too much noise, too many people, too much attention. And yet here you are with your pack. I want to know why.”

The pack leader cocked an eyebrow, puzzled. “You know much about my kind, little mage. And yet you killed my packmates. Why should I trust you or answer your questions?”

JR sighed. “Your packmates killed people on the surface.”

The pack leader shuddered. “I instructed them not to leave the sewers. But food is scarce down here and some of them had gone rabid and could not be controlled. My pack isn’t the only one here, you know. There are others, in different parts of the city.”

I nodded, unsurprised. “You all came from somewhere else, right? Where?”

“We came from the Middlesex Fells Reservation, north of Newcrest proper,” he replied gloomily. “Our lives there were peaceful. The reservation had plenty of wildlife and we lived in harmony with the other animals. The reservation rangers kept the peace. At least until the reservation started changing.”

JR was curious. “What happened?”

The pack leader shook his shaggy head. “The other animals became hostile, rabid,” he stared directly at me, spitting out the word like a curse, “I’m pretty sure it was something you people did. Many of the strongest animals were changed, altered, into hideous and deadly beasts. The reservation may appear peaceful from the outside, but it’s a death trap. The rangers are either unaware or they’re in on it. I decided to leave with my pack.”

JR sighed. “Middlesex Fells Reservation is a huge place. There’s a Stone Zoo in that area that spans 26 acres. The whole reservation is 2,500 acres of land connected to Oakdale Park to the east and Wright Park to the south. That’s a lot of ground to cover if we want to find out what’s going on.”

I nodded in agreement. “We’re gonna need help on this one, that’s for sure. In the meantime,” I turned to the shackled pack leader, “we’re going to leave you here for now. The enchantment on those chains and cuffs will last for a few hours before fading away. Once they’re gone, they’ll just fall away. You’re free to go, but please leave the city. Don’t go to the reservation. I suggest you head northeast, toward Breakheart Reservation. I know the rangers there and you should have no trouble.”

“Why are you helping me? My pack mates killed your people.”

I shrugged. “Let’s just say I prefer to make friends instead of enemies.” I tapped JR on the shoulder and we both disappeared into the sewers.
6 April 2015. Newcrest, Massachusetts, New England.

The smell of sulfur and brimstone greeted me as I flashed my badge at the police tape. The crime scene was a luxurious penthouse apartment on the corner of Salem and Ashland. I hastily put on my filtration mask but the rotten eggs smell had already entered my nostrils.

“Dammit, JR, why didn’t you warn me about the smell,” I complained as I stepped gingerly into the doorway, eyes scanning the room for the usual corpse.

JR already had her mask on and her eyes crinkled. “Good morning Cole! And deprive you of this wonderful sensory cornucopia? Never!” She nodded towards the bedroom. The living room area was pristine, all marble floors and expensive looking leather couches. The bedroom itself was a different story entirely.

The first thing I noticed was the melted candles. They were at all the cardinal directions. There was also a ritual circle inscribed into the marble floor with what looked like human blood. Arcane symbols were drawn in painstaking detail, each line and curve drawn onto the floor with perfect symmetry. In the middle of the room, at the very center of the ritual circle, right in front of the bed, was our victim.

Female, early to mid 20’s, with chestnut brown hair that fell in waves around her face. Her body, what was visible at least, looked fit and toned. An expression of utter horror was permanently etched on her face, facial muscles rigid and eyes opened wide. I couldn’t find any marks on her body though. No defensive wounds either. A bronze censer was in one of the triangular areas of the ritual circle and seemed to contain the sulfur.

JR had already identified her. “Victim is Heather Jones, 24 years old, lividity indicates she died between midnight and 1am this morning. Neighbors called it in mainly due to the smell. The medical examiner indicated the cause of death as cerebrovascular accident or stroke.”

My eyes continued to scan the room. “Is the red stuff human blood?” I put on an enchanted pair of glasses from my coat pocket and quickly muttered the activation incantation. “Arcanus videre.” In my view, the circle appeared with a bright shimmering glow of magical energy, unbroken and still operational, although fading quickly now that time had passed and its energy was not being replenished.

“We got samples and I’m having the lab examine them,” JR replied. “If it wasn’t for the weird symbols, I wouldn’t have bothered calling you in.”

I nodded, taking quick photos of the circle and the victim’s position in it. “The circle doesn’t make sense. Mages use inscribed magic circles to either keep things out or in. If it’s a summoning circle, you want to keep the summoned creature inside the circle, trapping it. If it’s a protective circle, you want to be inside to protect yourself from outside forces. She’s inside, so presumably it’s a protective circle. But I don’t see any break in the circle and its potency is still strong. What that means is whatever killed her remained outside the ritual circle. And who created the circle? A circle this strong hints at a professional job. I doubt someone like the victim has the knowledge and experience to make something like this. She owns the apartment?”

JR shook her head. “The apartment’s owned by a shell company. Might take a while to unravel the true beneficial owner of the place.”

“The sulfur and brimstone smell also indicates we’re dealing with a fiend of some sort,” I said, rising up from my crouch near the edge of the circle, careful not to disturb it. “Devils can’t come to our plane of existence unless they’re summoned so we might need to consult with Fr. Joseph Hayden from the Immaculate Conception Parish Church at the corner of Fellsway and Pleasant. He’s the closest thing to an authority on devils we have in this city.”

“You’re joking right?” JR scoffed. “The devil did it, is your theory?”

I shook my head. “I never said THE devil, I said A devil. Devils come in many forms but they all need to be summoned and there’s always a price to be paid to get them to do anything. Usually the soul of the summoner. The cause of death worries me though. There’s no way to prove malicious intent given the nature of a stroke. I can’t say for certain that this was a murder. For all I know, she could have collapsed during the ritual.”

JR stared at me intently. “You think it’s murder.”

“A lot of things don’t add up in this crime scene,” I said with a troubled look. “Take this ritual circle, for instance. The craftsmanship is exquisite. The painstaking effort it took to make this tells me the ritualist is an expert, likely a professional. This is the kind of ritual circle that an experienced Abjurer or Archmage would make.”

“One of these days you’ll explain what all these terms mean, Cole.”

“An Abjurer is a mage that’s specialized in warding magic, the kind of magic that keeps things in or out of places,” I explained patiently. “They are able to build wards that keep extradimensional and extraplanar creatures locked down or locked out. They are also able to dismiss or banish creatures that don’t belong on this plane of existence, like devils or demons.”

“Like an exorcist?”

“Yes, an exorcist is a specific type of Abjurer, the kind that deals with possessed beings,” I replied, glad that she was understanding the nuances. “They use their power to banish or dismiss the possessing entity back to its home dimension or plane.”

The detective nodded in understanding. “So basically we have 2 unanswered questions here. One, who is the victim and what was she doing here. Answering this will give us insight into a possible motive. Two, who made this circle and why did they make it. Answering this will tell us what possible creature we could be dealing with and its level of power.”

I nodded in approval. “Very good, JR! Ten points for Gryffindor!”

JR directed a withering stare at me. “I’ll take the first question. You take the second question. Regroup in 3 days at the diner? I’ll talk to the lieutenant to give us some time to wrap this up.”

I nodded, suddenly serious. “Thanks for believing me, JR.”

She waved it away. “De nada. Just make me something for when we come up against more of these bulletproof creatures and we’ll call it even.”

***

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. It has been a very long time since my last confession.”

Shocked silence before the sound of someone suddenly clearing his throat made me smile slightly. “Ahem… Err… Yes, of course, my son. Tell me what troubles you.”

“Perhaps it would be better if I showed you instead, father.”

“Dammit, Cole,” the priest cursed as he stood up. “I smell trouble on you. It’s almost like sulfur and brimstone in the air. Wait a minute. You do smell like sulfur and brimstone. What’s going on, Cole?” Fr. Joseph Hayden emerged from the confessional box and turned to face me, his nose still sniffing the air. The priest was in his early 30’s but his lined face and salt-and-pepper hair made him look older. He wasn’t very tall, just 8 inches over 5 feet, but his movements were smooth and sharp, like a boxer or MMA fighter. His hands were horribly scarred, the whiter scars crisscrossing over sunburnt skin like a Tokyo subway map, but his broad shoulders and flat stomach showed how fit he was.

“Good to see you too, Joseph,” I greeted him. We’d been friends for a while and I had supplied the good father with enchanted items every now and then. “I have a few photos that you may want to see.” I showed him the photos of the crime scene, with a special emphasis on the ritual circle.

“Crime scene is where you picked up that smell on you?” He asked. I nodded. “No blood. Doesn’t look like a violent death. That circle… I’ve definitely seen that before…” He muttered as he led me into his office at the back of the altar. “Any residue on the victim?”

“Negative, at least none that was magical,” I clarified. “No way for me to detect, say, fiendish residue. Or does the smell count as residue?”

The priest shook his head. “The smell just indicates presence, not activity. Something was there, but it doesn’t tell you if they did anything or just watched then left. I need to examine the body and conduct my own ritual to be sure. The circle is a souped-up variant of the standard Solomonic magic circle to protect a ritualist. See that triangle with the censer? That’s the conjuration triangle pointing to the east, indicating a devil or demon. But that craftsmanship is damn exquisite. Only one ritualist I know on the East Coast who can pull that off: Malcolm Hardwick.”

I raised an eyebrow. “The real estate guy? The man’s a multimillionaire. And you’re saying he’s a ritualist too?”

Fr. Hayden nodded. “Damn fine one too. His ritual circles are damn near perfect and, since he’s rich, he doesn’t scrimp on the material components either. He’s consulted me on some ritual circles before and the man is sharp as a razor. Watch yourself around him though. Let’s just say one doesn’t get to his level of wealth without doing some nasty things.”

“I’ll fix things with the detective so you can inspect the body, father. On a side note, have you heard any odd news coming out of Middlesex Fells Reservation north of the city?” I asked, hoping for a hit.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard of that place recently, but I can’t put my finger on it right now,” the priest shook his head sadly. “Let me make some inquiries and get back to you, Cole.”

I arranged things with JR so the priest could inspect the body. At this point, JR told me who owned the penthouse apartment that was our crime scene. Wakeland Development owned by Hardwick Realty owned by none other than the aforementioned Malcolm Hardwick. I agreed to meet JR at Hardwick Tower downtown where the office of Malcolm Hardwick was located.

***
Malcolm Hardwick was a thin, middle aged man about 5 feet 10 inches in height. His cheekbones were angular and jutted out like cliffs over the ocean. Sky blue eyes blinked at us owlishly in the bright light of the penthouse office suite of the Hardwick Tower.

“Good afternoon, detectives,” he greeted us calmly, gesturing to the seats in front of his huge mahogany desk. “What may I do for you today?”

JR shifted to full detective mode as she took out her trusty notepad. “We traced the ownership of the penthouse apartment of the building located at the corner of Salem and Ashland to your firm, Mr. Hardwick. Are you familiar with the location in question?”

He nodded almost absently. “That is indeed one of our properties. A lovely apartment and very tastefully decorated, if I do say so myself. Is there a problem with it, detective?”

“Someone died there just recently,” JR replied in a matter-of-fact tone, her eyes staring straight at the man behind the desk, looking for telltale signs of panic or regret. “The body of Ms. Heather Jones was found at the scene. Do you know this person?” I was also staring at Malcolm Hardwick, gauging his reaction.

The man was a blank sheet of paper, at least to me. He spread his hands and shrugged. “My company owns many properties all over the city, detective. They are rented out or leased all the time. I have an entire floor full of people who monitor such things for me. I could have someone check on the outstanding lease contract for you, if you like. Personally, I cannot track every single person who lives in my properties. While the death of a tenant is tragic, I’m afraid I cannot help you in this matter, detective. Should you have any further queries, I’m certain my attorney or the company’s legal team would be more than happy to assist you.”

While he was talking, I took the chance to tap on my glasses, muttering the activation incantation beneath my breath. “Arcanus videre.” The view shimmered into a golden yellow interspersed with globs of blue, red, or purple, indicating magical auras and fields. His hands were a shimmering red, indicative of recent magical activity. The desk itself was a huge blob of purple, indicating a very powerful enchantment that was regularly maintained.

Malcolm never stopped speaking. “Meanwhile, Mr. Cole, I would appreciate it if you would kindly refrain from activating your magical toys in my office. The resonance is absolutely deafening and I don’t appreciate magical snooping.” His voice never wavered, didn’t even go up a notch in annoyance or irritation.

My eyes widened. “You just conducted a ritual, Mr Hardwick,” I said. “What have you done?”

Again, his voice never wavered. “That is none of your concern, Apprentice Artificer,” he replied, emphasizing my relatively low rank. “Know your place before a Master Abjurer, little mouse. Now scurry along before I call security on you both. Unless, of course, the detective has a warrant? I thought not. Off you go, then.”

At the ground floor of the building, JR sighed in resignation. “Looks like we hit a dead end, Cole.”

I shook my head, a glint in my eye. “On the contrary,” I said with a sweeping flourish, “we have everything we need, detective. Let’s go see Fr. Joseph. If I’m right, he will hand us the noose with which to hang this murderer.”

***

I found Fr. Joseph’s use of magic fascinating. It didn’t rely on the control of elemental magic or runic symbols. Instead, the priest’s holy magic seemed to tap into a totally different plane of existence altogether. With his holy symbol, his crucifix, he called upon divine magic to speak with the recently deceased Heather Jones. His incantations were a mixture of Latin invocations and Gregorian chanting, all the while walking a circular pattern around the corpse in the morgue. He held his crucifix in one hand but, belted at his hip, he wore what looked like an oversized hammer etched with various symbols.

JR had never seen one before. “Is that a real warhammer?”

I nodded. “Fr. Joseph isn’t messing around,” I observed, “he doesn’t normally bring his holy weapon around but I guess this merits special consideration. From the looks of it, he’s expecting trouble.”

“Should we be concerned? My gun doesn’t work on spirits, Cole.”

I shook my head and smiled. “The padre knows what he’s doing,” I assured her, “if anything, I feel pity for whatever thinks it can get the better of this priest. He’s armed and he knows how to use that thing. Trust me.”

Fr. Joseph completed his ritual with a booming “... nunc tacent sine timore sit locutus!”

“Let the silent now speak without fear,” I told JR, translating the Latin phrase.

A chilling wind swept the morgue, seemingly from everywhere and nowhere. The priest drew his warhammer from its thong at his belt and hefted it two-handed. The ease with which he swung the weapon displayed years of practice and experience. He raised it up and blinding light shone from the weapon as the priest spoke in an authoritative voice. “Loquere! Loquere, Heather Jones! Speak! Speak to us!”

A misty cloud drifted down and coalesced into an image of Heather Jones. “I hear and obey, herald of the Lord of Light. What would you ask of me?”

Fr. Joseph lowered his weapon but kept it at hand. “Tell us of your departure from this plane, Heather. Tell us what happened to you when you died.”

At the question, a loud keening erupted from the misty spirit, filled with pain and madness. I found myself examining the spirit with my glasses in full magic detection mode. Invisible to the naked eye, the spirit appeared to be chained. Ghostly dark chains wound around her ankles, legs, torso, arms, and wrists, squeezing her at the priest’s query and causing her pain and anguish. “Her spirit is chained, Father! Her soul energy is being drained as we speak!”

“Blasphemy!” The priest was furious. “This is an abomination before the Lord of Light who gives comfort to the dead.” He raised his hammer, both hands on the handle, in a large T over his head. “Apstergo! Apstergo! Apstergo! Thrice do I banish this foul enchantment ensnaring you. By the power of the Lord of Light! Let her spirit be freed!” The hammer glowed with a soothing light, banishing the shadows and dissipating the ghostly chains. And then a pulse of shadowy energy erupted from her misty spirit, knocking us all back.

I scrambled to my feet and stared. The spirit had turned a deep crimson shade and barked in laughter. “She is mine, priest of Light! Forever and ever, her all is mine to do with as I please.” It turned to stare at JR and I. “Ah, the puny Artificer and his little City Watch friend. You have no idea what you are dealing with, fools! Here, have a taste of true power!” It snapped its misty fingers.

A tiny tornado sprang into being in the morgue, tossing instruments and paper around in a circular vortex. A wayward scalpel slashed a neat line on my arm as I used it to shield my eyes. I felt a chill  hand snake around my throat and lift me from the ground. To my left, JR was struggling against the invisible hand at her throat while Fr. Joseph did the same on my right. The priest’s eyes narrowed in rage as he took his holy symbol and pressed it against his throat. “Luceat! Luceat lux! Let the light shine!” The crucifix flared with holy light and I was abruptly released, falling back to the ground in a heap. Beside me, JR coughed as she fell to the ground. Fr. Joseph landed on his feet and hefted his warhammer, swinging it in one smooth well-practiced motion at the floating creature. I expected the hammer to pass through the spirit creature harmlessly but I was wrong. The hammer’s runes flared again as it slammed heavily into the crimson spirit, causing cracks and fractures to appear all over its misty form. With a shout, the priest rotated on one foot and whirled his hammer over his head, spinning like a top and smashing his weapon directly at the spirit. Like a fragile vase, the spirit cracked and burst apart into shards of ectoplasm. Breathing heavily, the priest shook his head. “Well that was a first. I never thought a spirit could possess another spirit.”

JR recovered before I did. “What. The. Fuck. Was. That.”

“That, my friends, was a being of myth and legend,” he explained. “I’ve only ever read about them in ancient tomes and scrolls. They’re called spiritus custos carceris, spirit jailers. They are used by necromancers and ritualists to imprison spirits for future or ongoing use. From what we have seen, the ritualist who took her soul imprisoned it and was using it to fuel another spell. It is a spirit being most foul and summoning it requires the sacrifice of many souls. We have temporarily driven it away, but it is by no means banished. The ritual tying it to this plane is too strong. I need to be in the vicinity of the summoning circle to disrupt it and banish the creature from this plane of existence.”

“Center of power,” I remarked. “It’ll be at the height of its strength in that place. We’d be fools to go there and battle both it and its summoner.”

“And yet that is exactly what we must do, Cole,” the priest said firmly. “We cannot let this abomination remain. As we speak, its summoner gathers more souls for it to imprison and consume. It cannot retain its form on this plane without that necessary fuel. Believe me, even the loss of one soul is anathema to all that is good and holy in this world. We must find it and banish it utterly.”

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