Superheroes and Sorcerers

There’s a belief that there is no true good or evil, only shades of gray. On most days, I’m inclined to agree with it. I’ve seen people who call themselves the good guys commit atrocities, and I’ve seen monsters commit purely selfless acts.
Putting that all aside, my sister Katie is mother-frakking evil.
In my teen years, I came into my powers, like all witches. My sister had taught me, under the supervision of my mother. Katie, five years my senior, was already an incredibly powerful witch. She rivaled both my brother Matt and my mother, only truly surpassed by my dad in the family‘s magic. When I went to prep school in New York, she also moved with me to attend college. Under her tutelage, I learned what I could of the craft.
There had been a lot of things going on in both of our lives at the time. Our father had died recently, and we were still getting through that. Add to grieving the usual teenage worries, and I didn’t even notice. (continue reading…)

“Son of a frakkin’ mother-pheasant plucker!” I yelped.
“Sit still, Jacob!” Theresa hissed at me. The Red Angel had my left leg laid across her lap, and she was tending to the wound on it. Members of Theresa’s race had their own variety of magic, different from my own. While I could work the elements, thaumaturgy, and a variety of other fields, the Reds focused on manipulation of mind and body.
“Hey, it hurts.” I protested to her.
She rolled her eyes to me. “Of course it hurts. I’m fusing together your wound using sheer magic. Quit being a bitch about it.” (continue reading…)

I went to a bar.
No, before you start thinking, I’m not a drinker, at least not beyond anything recreational. But I just happen to know a guy.
McClellan’s on 9th was a hearty joint that occupied the first floor of an older five-story building. The other four floors were apartments. Before four, McClellan’s was a mediocre restaurant that served a fair burger. At night, however, it tended to be the bar where you went when you could tag the label Arcane onto yourself. Vamps, witches, and even the occasional Red Angel frequented here. (continue reading…)

The 4th precinct house of the San Francisco Police Department is right next to the fire house of the same district. I’d gotten the two mixed up the first time I’d visited, but after a Halloween spent in a holding cell there(a matter which Lieutenant Li never lets me live down), I had never gotten the two confused again.
I parked my car, a red Mini Cooper that had seen better days, and made my way into the precinct house. The front desk was occupied by a sergeant who seemed to be losing the battle against his graying hair and invading waist line.
“Hi,” I started, simple enough. “I’m Jake Sinclair with Black Knight Investigations. I was wondering if Detective Santiago was in.”
The desk sergeant gave me an appraising look. “Sinclair. You’re that P.I. who works with Li, right?” (continue reading…)

Here we go again! The latest case from the files of the American Arcane. As usual, comments and such are wanted, requested, and begged for. Hope you enjoy!

American Arcane:  “Weeds in the Family”

I woke to the theme of Ghostbusters.
I blinked my eyes awake and found myself sleeping with a bed hog. Say what I would about my lover, but she stole the covers. I shifted away from her, which drew a mumbled protest from her sleeping form. I leaned back down and kissed her forehead in a soft, gentle manner. “Sorry, babe.” I murmured and rolled over to get out of bed.
I picked my cell phone up and walked to the bathroom. I shut the door and opened up the cell phone. “Patrick,” I hissed in as quiet a whisper I could manage while still maintaining some form of clarity. “Do you know what time it is, you Irish son-of-a-”
“Nine-twenty-seven,” The lilting Irish accent of Patrick O’Donahue interrupted. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I was sleeping!” (continue reading…)