Superheroes and Sorcerers

My ex-fiancée was a demon-summoning murderer. Somehow, I didn’t feel as surprised as I should have. I forced the demon to go back to the Other Side without an exorcism, but through the sheer threat of it.
I left the White Rose for the open road. After a quick call to Lieutenant Li, I was able to get Josefina’s home address.
Home might not have been the appropriate word. Fortress was a better description. The entire grounds were surrounded by a large stone wall, complete with battlements. Why? It’s California. I’ll be the first to admit that Californians can find any excuse to do insane things. My job, for instance. (continue reading…)

Night. The time when monsters come out to play. The time when the normals give up their rule to the things that go bump.
It was about eleven when I walked up to White Rose. The restaurant was situated in the entertainment district of the city. It looked like an average restaurant, with the only sign being a vintage neon light of a pink umbrella. Walking into the entrance, I found myself stopped by the front deskman. He was a tough, burly man that looked like the bouncers from Danse Rouge. This time, I was able to sense something from him. He had a twinge of the Arcane about him. Hired help.
“Name,” He grunted.
I pulled my P.I.’s license from my pocket. “S.F.P.D. consultant. I’m looking for two regulars. Could I speak with Theresa, maybe?”
As if on cue, the soft purr of a woman’s voice came from behind me. “You rang?” (continue reading…)

So, I’m a cornered witch with what looks like an angry vampire babe behind me hissing at me. I didn’t want to sling a spell in such close quarters. It was more than likely it would just end up consuming us both. Magic doesn’t work that well in closed spaces.
I couldn’t go head-to-head either. The undead had double the strength of a normal human and faster reflexes. So I brought out my great equalizer, moving in a fast motion.
I pulled it out from inside my coat, a black Colt 1911. I pulled back the slide in one fluid motion as I drew it. Leveling the pistol at her head, I growled. “Hello, Miss…Martin, wasn’t it?
“Call me Serena,” She asked of me, her voice casual. “A gun? You really surprise me, Mister Sinclair.” The vampire sneered.
“Silver-lead bullets.” I returned her expression with just a little satisfaction. (continue reading…)

I hate “clubs”. I go to an Irish pub for a reason. Real alcohol and no fruity drinks. I can watch the game, talk with the buddies, and Friday is karaoke night. Clubs, however, play the music too loud, the staff members dress too expensively, and there’s too many people body-slamming into each other and calling it dancing.
Danse Rouge fit the perfect example of a place I avoid usually. Too many vamps, little security for the living. I was able to get past the bouncer by apparently “being on the list.” The bouncer, a vampire who easily made six-foot-five, looked like the spawn of The Incredible Hulk and an Abrams, and had a definite lack of brain cells, had to check it twice, mostly because he didn’t believe a witch with my bad fashion taste could get in. Hey, it’s San Francisco.
I didn’t dress to impress. I usually don’t. I had worn a buttoned-up canvas jacket, jeans, and a Doctor Who t-shirt. Around my neck hung a shark tooth necklace-fake, honestly. My pockets hung a little heavy with some of the trinkets I liked to use in my work.
I made my way past the bar, ignoring the temptation to loosen up first with a drink. I wasn’t going to use the last few bills in my wallet for fruity vampire cocktails. I knew for sure I wasn’t cute enough to get free drinks for that matter.
I made my way to the back, where Jo was waiting. She was dressed in a silk poet’s shirt and slacks, cutting a sleek figure. Her eyes settled on me in a lazy glance.
“Hello, Jake.”
I pulled my jacket around me a bit tighter, self-consciously. “Hey, Jo.”
She gave me a once over and sighed. “It figures. I’m showing you the most powerful vampires in the Bay, and you decide to dress up like a bum.” (continue reading…)

This was the first American Arcane story, finished about a year ago. It’s gone through some changes over the past few months, but it’s kept the original spirit and story that I originally wrote. Enjoy.

It was October 19, and it was the witching hour, the first hour of a new day. Superstitions, old wives’ tails, and folklore claimed it was the hour where magic and the arcane reigned strongest. Of course, it was all old wives’ tails in my opinion. Night was when the arcane reigned, and the arcane was strong all night. I knew best.
My name is Jacob Michael Sinclair. I’m twenty-nine years old, and live in San Francisco, California. I’m a witch, and a demon hunter. I look through the dark underworld, searching for the things that prey on humanity and save said human race’s collective butts. How very heroic of me, yea.
But in a world where your Congressman is screwing a vampire and is eating out of their palm, it’s a necessity.
The San Francisco Police Department had me on retainer for that kind of thing. Officially, I was one of a pair of equal partners of Black Knight Detective Agency, a duo of private investigators who were usually billed as ‘paranormal experts’. A friend from my days of wearing a star and carrying government-issued weapons had called me up. She’d needed help, and had called up the white witch with the worst reputation in the Bay Area. Guess who?
The meeting place we had decided on was one I was familiar with. It was a road stop a few dozen miles away from San Francisco, far enough that light pollution was minimal enough so one could see the stars. Those alone made me feel comfortable, especially on a night approaching the new moon. It was instinctual. I liked the stars. They reminded me that even in darkness, little beacons of light would shine.
The road stop was situated on a highway that ran along a beach. The Pacific Ocean, with its jet-colored water, was at my right, with the little light coming from the waning moon reflecting off its surface blandly. To my left was the alcove parking lot where I had stowed my Mini Cooper. It was twenty seconds away if I made a mad dash. I hoped I wouldn’t need to. (continue reading…)