One Foot In The Grave Read online

  An Introduction from the Author

  Welcome to One Foot in The Grave, the fourth title in my Urban Fantasy series, Conjuring a Coroner.

  This series has been a thrill for me to write. I love this universe and have a lot more in store for you both in this series and in adventures still to come.

  One Foot in The Grave is set in New York in the year 2017. As you are all too aware by now, the key difference between this world and the one we live in, is the presence of magic. That one vital detail is the heart of this grand adventure.

  Enter the world of magic with Kasey Chase; she’ll suck you into a realm of magic, murder and mayhem, that you won’t want to leave.

  If we were to liken this series to a rollercoaster, we are just reaching the summit now. I hope you are strapped in; the descent is going to leave you breathless. Enjoy!

  Sincerely,

  S.C. Stokes

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 1

  Kasey couldn’t help but stare. The grisly scene before her was unlike anything she has witnessed in her time with the Ninth Precinct. She was no stranger to the violence humanity was capable of inflicting against its own kind, but this was altogether different.

  The victim sat strapped to a steel-framed chair. Cable ties had been secured around his wrists and ankles to prevent him from moving. They were redundant now; he wasn’t going anywhere but the morgue.

  The only light to be had in the dank cellar came from a single bulb by the door. The other fittings were all missing or broken. Even in the semi-darkness, she could still make out the pool of blood that had begun to dry at the victim’s feet.

  Kasey strode closer to the body and set down her pack. She was already dressed from head to toe in her white Tyvek bodysuit. In her line of work, she had to be sure she wouldn't contaminate the scene. She opened the kit, lifted out her gloves, and slipped them on. Next, she drew out a series of evidence bags.

  The room was eerily still. Kasey had a strong stomach but working in the dimly lit basement had her on edge. Something about the room felt wrong. It wasn’t the murder; she’d seen those before. This was something else, something new.

  She scanned the room, mentally dividing it into a grid that she would work through systematically to ensure nothing escaped her attention. As usual she would begin with the victim and work her way outward until she’d scoured the room for any evidence. Before she could turn her attention to the wider environment, Kasey set her mind to the remains of the poor victim seated before her.

  The victim’s eyes were wide open, his jaw extended; frozen in place as a macabre testament of his final fearful moments. The distended jaw was a likely aftermath of his screaming. For all the good it had done him; down here in the darkness, no one but his tormenter would have heard him.

  The man was in his late thirties, or early forties. The roots of his hair had the slightest hint of gray and a neatly trimmed goatee spoke to an attention to detail in his grooming. His expensive suit was Italian and fit him impeccably.

  Tailored, I’ll bet.

  As she stepped toward the victim, a cold sensation filled her entire being. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and an unsettling pit formed in her stomach.

  She stopped dead. The feeling was completely alien to her. She had witnessed the horror of a violent homicide before. Lincoln Strode’s had been so bad she’d almost hurled, but this was different. She had known terror and hopelessness as she'd stared into the gaping maw of the werewolf Danilo Lelac. The paralyzing emotion had rooted her to the spot. The sensation she was experiencing was not fear. She felt hollow and empty inside.

  Often, Kasey's gifts had manifested to save her life. She wondered if the discomfort she was now experiencing was an omen, a forewarning of danger from her prescience.

  She studied the room again.

  Nothing.

  As she reached for the victim, she was conflicted. She was both hoping for and dreading a vision of what had occurred in the basement. Holding her breath, she grasped the victim’s forearm.

  Nothing.

  Kasey gasped. Scenes of such violence were powerful catalysts for her gifts, yet she felt and saw nothing. Her eyes narrowed as she looked down into the victim's lifeless blue eyes. She shuddered.

  Shaking her head, she stepped away from the victim to clear her mind. A wave of energy flowed through her being. It began at her feet and coursed up through her entire body. She knew it at once.

  Magic.

  She had known the sensation since her powers had manifested as a child. She reveled in the sensation as the arcane energy moved through her, dispersing the emptiness that had gnawed at her only moments before. She drew in a deep breath as her heart rate slowed to its regular rhythm.

  “That's better,” she said to herself, then turned her attention to the victim once more.

  Stepping up to the body, she felt the vacuum inside her once more. The comfort and warmth she had just experienced abandoned her and the same unsettling emptiness filled her entire frame.

  The hollow feeling was overwhelming, but she pushed on as she searched for an explanation for the eerie feeling that seemed to radiate from the body before her.

  Something about the victim was all wrong.

  Kasey glanced around to ensure she was alone. She was forming a theory but couldn't afford to be observed by any of the normals of the NYPD. Fortunately, the basement was empty. It seemed the officers of the Ninth Precinct were more than happy to let her work uninterrupted.

  Kasey raised one hand out before her, palm toward the ceiling and chanted “Pêl Tân.”

  Nothing happened. The spell should have conjured a fireball but there wasn’t even a whiff of flames.

  The confirmation of her belief was unsettling in the extreme. Kasey’s fear had become a reality.

  My magic is gone.

  The emptiness within her was not an emotion; it was an absence of the energy she had felt within her since she was a child. It had been with her so long, that its sudden absence was disturbing.

  Is this how a normal feels?

  She stepped away from the victim, toward the cellar’s entrance and as the warmth flooded through her being once more, she chanted “Pêl Tân.”

  This time, flames flickered into life above her palm, slowly coalescing into a broiling ball of fire. The arcane fire drove away the semidarkness of the basement, flooding the room with light. As the flames wisped above her outstretched hand, her mind raced.

  Something about this man is capable of robbing me of my magic.

  Kasey turned and, by the light of her fire, studied the scene. In the fresh illumination, her eyes picked up a pattern beneath her feet.

  A series of lines had been stained into the floor around the victim’s chair. The markings ran past the victim in each direction. Kasey inched around the edges and realized it was a six-pointed star, with the victim sitting in its center.

  In the corner of each point of the star, there were curving glyphs stained into the floor. Kasey had never seen their likeness before.

  She stepped over the line into the star and once more her magic abandoned her. With a barely audible whiff, the globe of fire that swirled over her outstretched palm dispersed, leaving her standing in semidarkness once more. br />
  Wards and enchantments were far from Kasey's area of expertise. She pulled out her cell phone and snapped pictures of the inscriptions. She would have to talk to her mother about the strange markings later. Whatever they were, they seemed to form an anti-magic ward within the confines of a star. That such a thing was possible fascinated Kasey, but she pushed it from her mind. For now, she had a job to do.

  Ignoring the emptiness within her, she bent over the victim. The cause of death was readily apparent. The unfortunate man had been shot three times in the chest. Examining the body, Kasey could see this was no crime of passion. It was a cold, calculated execution.

  The presence of the glyphs on the floor could mean only one thing: the man strapped to the chair before her was a wizard. What other reason could there be for ensuring that magic could not be used around him?

  The presence of the glyphs meant his killer was also likely a member of the magical community.

  The revelation was an unsettling one. Crimes committed by humans were much easier to solve. The laws of physics and nature applied, limiting the possibilities to a very finite spectrum within which Kasey was comfortable.

  In the realm of magic, however, the art and science of crime scene investigation were next to useless. Evidence that might provide conclusive proof might have been fabricated by arcane means. Kasey’s own experience with the Shinigami showed that stealing another’s identity, while illegal in the magical community, could nonetheless be employed to create another layer of complexity in an already difficult case.

  Kasey swabbed beneath the fingernails of the victim’s left hand, hoping that in the struggle he had managed to scratch his assailant. As she checked beneath his manicured fingernails, she couldn't find any hint of skin or other trace evidence. Kasey moved over to his right hand but paused. The victim’s right hand was missing three of its fingers. She soon found them, lying in the pool of blood on the floor. Whoever had killed the wizard had first severed three of his digits.

  Torture.

  This wasn't an execution at all—it was an interrogation. Now the glyphs made more sense. If someone was simply trying to kill a wizard they might do so in many ways. But if the purpose was to interrogate someone capable of wielding the arcane, then it would require you to incapacitate them and take away their magic. Failure to do so would prove suicidal.

  Kasey imagined the agony of having even a single finger removed. Most individuals when subjected to pain on such a scale cave immediately. Clearly the wizard had resisted. Otherwise he would only be missing one finger. Despite his well-groomed appearance, the victim clearly had grit.

  For all the good it did him.

  Kasey knew he had ultimately been unsuccessful. If he had not given them what they wanted, there was every chance he would be missing all of his fingers.

  Kasey tried to reconstruct the events that must have led to the scene before her. The young wizard had clearly been incapacitated, perhaps drugged and brought to the basement. The isolated location would help avoid any noise complaints or interruptions from passersby. The room would have to have been prepared with the glyphs and wards to ensure that the wizard, once conscious, could not defend himself with magic.

  Strapped to the chair, the victim had been helpless, while his merciless tormentor had patiently severed finger after finger until he had succumbed to the pain. Having given up whatever information his tormentor had sought, he had served his purpose and the killer had finished him off. The wounds were consistent with a pistol, perhaps a 9mm.

  Kasey took a deep breath to calm herself.

  It was going to be a long day.

  The pounding of footsteps on the staircase drew her from her thoughts. She spun in time to see a group of men streaming through the cellar’s door.

  She studied the newcomers as they entered the basement. The first five wore tactical gear and bullet proof vests. A man in a suit brought up the rear.

  These men were not from the Ninth Precinct.

  Her gaze settled on the agent in the suit, and an exasperated sigh escaped her lips.

  The bullet-proof vests may have read FBI, but Kasey had met their like before. The man in charge was none other than Agent Clarke of the ADI. The Anti Discovery Initiative was the agency that operated as the Arcane Council’s law enforcement division. Tasked with preventing non-magical beings from discovering the World of Magic, the ADI was ruthless, clinical, and unforgiving in the carrying out of its mission. Their presence here on her crime scene was not a good omen.

  Kasey's interactions with Clarke and the agency had been few, but they had left a lasting impression. In each instance, no matter how they started, they had always ended poorly.

  The first time he had appeared, it had been to deliver a warning for her use of magic against a normal. Kasey had been fighting for her life but that had been of little concern to the ADI.

  The second instance had been to drag her before the Arcane Council for questioning for her actions during the Shinigami assault on the Ninth Precinct.

  The armed agents masquerading as the FBI fanned out into the room. Agent Clarke broke ranks and strode over to Kasey. With one hand, he adjusted his belt. With the other, he reached into his pocket to produce his ID.

  “Ma’am, my name is Agent Clarke with the FBI. I'm going to need you to step away from the body.”

  Kasey stood her ground. “Really, Clarke? We are back to playing this game again?”

  Clarke glanced around the room and then back down the corridor from whence he had appeared. As if in answer to her question, Detective Bishop burst through the open doorway. Agent Clarke nodded toward the detective.

  Kasey realized his ruse was for Bishop's benefit, rather than her own. Agent Clarke had no idea that Detective Bishop, while not a member of the magical community, was more than aware of its existence. She'd witnessed it first hand when Kasey had clashed with the Shinigami during the battle for the Ninth Precinct.

  Kasey reconsidered her tone. Bishop may have known better, but for her safety, Kasey had to play along. There was no telling how the ADI would react should they realize Bishop was aware of their true identity.

  The ADI were known to meddle with memories, as well as spread lies, misinformation, or rumors to discredit witnesses. In extreme instances, people had disappeared entirely. If someone threatened the existence of the World of Magic, the ADI reacted with prejudice. In the quest for secrecy, survival, and safety, the ADI were willing to pay whatever price was necessary.

  When it came to her friend and partner, Kasey was not.

  “Agent Clarke, I'm Kasey Chase with the Ninth Precinct. What are you doing here? Your men are destroying my crime scene.”

  “Miss Chase,” Clarke began, sucking in a deep breath, “I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news. This is no longer your crime scene. This homicide and this victim are part of an ongoing federal investigation. While we appreciate the work you have done here, we're going to have to ask you to leave. Please place all evidence and samples you have collected by the victim and leave them for our team to recover and analyze. This case is highly sensitive. We can't have any inter-agency horseplay jeopardizing our investigation.”

  “You have to be kidding. This is a homicide in our backyard. We were first on the scene and are already well underway with our investigation,” Kasey protested. She had barely been on scene for a half hour, but Clarke was unlikely to know better.

  The dead wizard and the strange runes worried her. She wanted to know what had motivated the torture and violent murder of the yet to be identified victim. Whatever information was worth torturing and killing a member of the magical community for, it was clearly dangerous. The presence of Clarke and his team only reinforced her conclusion.

  Clarke held up his hands as if trying to calm her down. “Be that as it may, Miss Chase, as I said before, the Bureau is taking over the investigation effective immediately. So you don’t have a case for us to jeopardize. Please leave your samples and any other evidence you've
collected, pack your kit, and evacuate the scene immediately.”

  Kasey looked to Bishop. The detective was every bit as unimpressed as Kasey but they simply didn’t have the authority to fight back.

  Not that it had ever stopped Bishop before.

  “You can't throw us out,” Detective Bishop said. “There are protocols for these types of situations. They clearly dictate that we be allowed to conclude our examinations already underway, providing all evidence and information is freely shared with the collaborating agency.”

  Clarke turned to Bishop.

  His voice started out calm but grew in intensity as he spoke. “You're right, detective, insofar as the policy goes, but what you both seem to be failing to grasp is that we aren't collaborating on this case. The NYPD's involvement here is over. Pack your gear and leave my scene immediately. If you have any questions, direct them to Chief West. My superiors are briefing him as we speak. This crime scene, and this case, are no longer your concern. Do you understand?”

  Kasey had dealt with the intractable ADI agent enough to know Clarke was not going to yield an inch.

  Bishop shrugged. “No worries, agent. Come, Kasey, looks like we get an early mark today. Pack up the kit. We’re heading back to the station.”

  Kasey trudged back to her kit, still lying by the victim. As she began putting her instruments away, she reached for the swabs that she had taken from the victim’s body.

  From behind her, Agent Clarke said, “Miss Chase, you can leave the samples by the body. My men will attend to them.”

  Kasey bit her lip to cut off her response. She resumed packing her kit; ripping off her gloves, then tossing them into the open pack before zipping it shut.

  Lifting the pack, she turned to Bishop. “Let's get out here and leave our federal friends to their crime scene.”

  “Don’t stress, Kasey. It's almost dinner, anyway. We can grab a bite to eat instead of moping around down here.” Bishop brushed past the agents as she strode out of the room.

  Kasey paused so that Bishop was out of earshot and then leaned into Clarke.

  With her voice barely more than a whisper, she asked, “Who the hell is that?”