Shadow Magic: A Joseph Hunter Novel: Book 3 (Joseph Hunter Series) by Alex Gates

Author:Alex Gates [Gates, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Alex C Gates
Published: 2020-06-21T16:00:00+00:00

Angry and dealing with a massive hangover-slash-frustration headache, I debated heading back to MIS’s new holding area and sleeping everything off in an empty cell. Maybe I’d find a gun lying around, or any other kind of weapon—but Joey Labrador wasn’t that lucky, ladies and gentlemen. If anything, a Nephil and an army of Cursed would be waiting for me. Or worse, Xander. That is, if he decided to look for me—which I’d bet Kevin being my new BFF on. MIS would be the first place he checked.

I had no other friends to contact, no other place to crash for a few hours. Every bridge in my life I’ve crossed, I’ve thrown a bomb behind me and destroyed the entire thing. Dakota and Xander were the only friends I had left. Unless you counted Annie and Holly, which … sure, I guess. Either way, your point sucks because I couldn’t confide in any of those people any more than I could have gone to a police officer for help finding my daughter’s killer.

So, I just wandered the streets of Sacramento, trying to avoid direct sunlight like a television vampire while looking for a quick place to grab a bite of food and a coffee. Actually, more than greasy, fatty sustenance, I really just wanted to fight something—to get punched and to punch back, to feel quality pain and to inflict quality pain. I had that option, too. But before I pursued, I really needed some sleep. My couch wasn’t an option, and neither was MIS.

As I meandered around, lost in the tiny universe of my own mind, figuring out where to rest, I found myself—after God knew how much time had passed—ambling through a cemetery. It was a familiar place that I hadn’t visited in over five years, at least not since I’d given up on finding Callie’s murderer.

Without thinking about it, I wound up standing in front of her tombstone. I could barely afford the coffin and services for her at the time, let alone a headstone that she truly deserved. I had to settle for a rock planted in the ground. A white, metal cross rose up behind the placard, standing amongst hundreds of other crosses—making her anything but unique. And let me tell you something, she was as unique and unforgettable as they came.

Standing over the bronze placard anchored to the stone, I read what I’d had inscribed. CALISTA STEPHANY HUNTER. I traced my finger over each letter, just trying to feel the presence of my wife again. Calista meant “she that is most beautiful” in Greek, and that was the epitaph sketched under name. SHE THAT IS MOST BEAUTIFUL. Never had a name fit someone so perfectly—except, apparently, for stupid Kevin.

Dropping onto my ass and sitting beside her stone, next to where she lay, I at once fell into the old habit of needing her help. I stared at the cloudy sky that had ceased its crying for the moment. I cleared my throat. “I don’t know where to start,” I said, fighting against a tears.

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