A.L. Kessler Presents
No More Black Magic
Here Witchy Witchy Book One
Release Date June 16th, 2015
Explosions, body parts, and black magic are all part of Abby Collins’ typical day. As the top Paranormal Investigation Bureau agent, she only gets the best cases, but when the Cult of Ra comes to play she might in be over her head. Finding a murderer while up against a hex, an overprotective coven, and a stubborn werewolf reminds her that nothing in the paranormal world is easy. As the death toll rises and a decades old crime, linked to Abby, is uncovered, disturbing information is brought to light. Abby must unlock an ancient language steeped in black magic to uncover the truth before the murderer comes for her.
I pulled up to the crime scene, a farm property in the middle of nowhere, and parked my SUV next to a State Trooper’s cruiser.
The one thing I loved about crime scenes is the amount of people who gather around them. We’ll feign terror and true desire to know what happened, but in reality we are curious as to what kind of creature or person would commit such a crime. Human curiosity was disgusting. This scene lacked that. How odd.
A tall man started towards the yellow crime scene tape. His hair was cropped close to his head giving no hint to the color. His black jacket had his detective shield attached to it. Detective Mason was one of my favorites to work with.
“Bout’ time you got here, Abigail.” His blue eyes met my gaze. “I was starting to think you were going to chicken out.”
“Yeah, not an option.” I shrugged and ducked under the crime scene tape. “Where’s the gawkers?”
“No idea. Just the lady whose dog found the body. Corpse’s been out here for a couple days at least.”
Great. That meant it was going to smell. “And the markings you want me to take a look at?”
“Are all over the barn walls. That’s all I’m going to tell you.” He started walking towards a barn in the distance. My long legs were great for treading through the tall unkempt weeds that had taken over the area. The uneven ground made it a struggle to keep balanced, but there was no way I’d let myself fall. I already caught enough flack out on the field, being a witch and a woman.
I grumbled as we got to the barn and scrunched up my nose. “Oh, God.” The smell churned my stomach and it was times like this I wish that I had a spell or something to mask it.
An officer at the door handed me a facemask and then motioned for me to go in. I walked in and looked around. A tarp covered a lump that I imagined was the body, dried blood coated the packed dirt floor and it looked like whatever it was had exploded. Well, that explained the arm.
I tried to focus as my gaze crawled up the wall. Symbols covered it, scattered all over, drawn in something black and I could see the faint glowing of whatever magic it held.
I frowned and pulled out my phone to take pictures of them. “They’re still active.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’m trained in magic. I can see the power behind the marks.” I took a few more pictures.
“You can’t take pictures, Abby.”
“I don’t know them on sight, I’m going to have to do some research.” Hopefully the camera could capture the symbols without going haywire. A chill went down my spine and I cursed at the feeling of malevolent magic being activated.
“Get out, get out!” I shoved at Detective Mason and ran out after him. I felt the magic trail after me and I cursed. Grabbing Mason and the uniform at the door, I held on to their wrists and muttered a protection spell under my breath. In my mind I envisioned a purple circle and threw my energy into that vision to make it manifest.
The barn exploded the moment my circle went up. Shrapnel flew around us and the blast was hot enough to feel through the purple haze of my magic. Had I not managed to get my circle up, we’d be crispy humans. Holy shit. When the smoke cleared all that was left was a smoking pile of wood and the smell of burnt flesh in the air. I let the circle down when I felt the magic in the air fade.
“What the hell was that?” Mason snapped, spinning me around to face him.
“Magic. Strong, terrifying magic.” I took a deep shuddering breath and pulled my own magic back into me.
“My corpse is gone.” He snapped at me and I crossed my arms. There was no way he was going to blame me for this. “My evidence is gone.”
“Yeah well, you’d be gone too if I hadn’t been here.” I growled.
“Sir?” Another officer came up holding a cooler. “What would you like me to do with the arm?”
The damn arm. My stomach lurched again. Full bodies were fine, when we start having detached parts I had a hard time. “There you go, you can identify your victim with that.”
“And what are you going to do?” He growled. “I have an arm and you have pictures of the magical equivalent of C-4.”
Marks that I’d never seen before. “I have to research them to figure out where they might have come from. Each coven, each group, can use different runes as their base. This isn’t a…language, for lack of a better term, that I’ve seen before.”
“Could it have been used to kill the man?” Mason asked.
I glanced at the officer holding the cooler and then back to the detective. “If he was blown up, yes.”
“Yeah, I would say he was blown apart.” He grumbled and his eyes cut to the remains of the barn. “Keep in touch on those marks. I’d hate for anyone else to end up blown up.” I could see the frustration on his face and I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t want anything else to blow up either.
So would I. “Will do.” I spun on my heels and started back towards the car.
“Abby?” Mason called. “I mean it!”
I chuckled. Of course he did, but I wasn’t going to hand over the full formula.
About the Author
A.L. Kessler is a paranormal romance, urban fantasy and steampunk author residing in Colorado Springs. Since she was a teenager she's loved weaving stories and spinning tales. When she's not at the beck-and-call of the Lord and Lady of the House, two black cats by the names of Jynx and Sophie, training a playful puppy named Zelda, playing with her daughter, or killing creepers and mining all the things with her husband, she's either reading, participating in NaNoWriMo, or writing in her Blog Writing Rambles.
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