Detective Void Novels & Stories

This was all his fault. Aaron Bridges was my captain back at the fraud department. He volunteered one of his detectives for a temporary transfer to homicide, and I managed to be the lucky winner. I silently curse him and everything else before making my way up the front steps. Making my way towards the captain’s office, eyes start following my every move. I knew they were talking about me. I tried to pretend that it didn’t bother me, but man was it hard.

Piled high with pillows. "It's a trap," I whispered to the silence. My stomach knotted. Comfort was dangerous. Comfort made you soft. And in the Obsidian Covenant, soft things were eaten. I didn't drop my guard. Instead, I began the sweep. Wolfy Vance was a Tactician. He dealt in information. There was no way he put a Void-Born asset in a room without eyes on it. I checked the obvious spots first. The smoke detector. The vent grates. Nothing.

“…Since him.” A long silence stretched between them. The Void’s eyes softened — a small, strange flicker of recognition. “Ah,” he murmured. “The wolf. The one who looked at you without fear.” His tone grew quieter. “He reminds me of someone. Does he not remind you of someone Lucifer?” Lucifer’s brow furrowed. “What are you even talking about?” The Void just smiled knowingly. “So, you really don’t remember anything?”He looked at him.

The city music drifted softly upward around us. I looked toward the child in the photograph. “Our little shadow never smiled easily.” Void looked personally attacked by this information. “You bit people.” “…once.” “Three times.” He sighed quietly. “…possibly.” The warmth between us eased slightly. Enough to breathe again. Then softly— very softly— Void asked the question he’d been carrying since the greenhouse. “What was his name?” The world seemed to still around us. The lantern wind. The music below. Even the Quiet Stars waiting silently overhead.

I edged towards the door and was about to peep through the hole when Davies's firm grip on my shoulder stopped me. “Step back, please.” He said softly. He really wasn't taking any chances. I complied immediately and stepped back as the detective moved towards the door with his hand already on the gun at his waist. He peeped through the peephole for a while. “Mid-thirties Caucasian male, clean shaven, blue eyes.” The detective announced and turned towards me. “That's Myles Voss, attorney at law! You know him?” I knew who it was immediately when I heard the description.

She can't help herself they just bring back bad memories for me. Towards the end of the night the evening had died down only a few people where left In the restaurant. She makes myself a cup of tea and sits at the bar and drinks it waiting till the diners all leave. All of a sudden she felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand up turning around seeing the detective staring at her, he pulled out a bar stool and sat down and said to her " I'm sorry if I'm staring at you but you look really familiar, I don't know where I've seen you but I feel as though I now you, or maybe you look like someone I just can't figure it out". I smile at him and nod my head bring my hair down to cover the s

The Void. The name settles into my bones like frost. It is not a creature. Not a wolf. Not a god. It is something older. Something that existed before the moon cast its first silver light across the world. Something that has been waiting. I stand in the war room, the map spread before me, the new mark on my wrist pulsing with an unfamiliar rhythm. The Watchers' mark is silver. The Unseen's mark is shadow. This new presence, the Void, leaves no mark. It leaves only absence. A hole where something should be.

If something was happening inside the void— Then I needed to see it. I reached deeper— “A bold choice.” My eyes snapped open. Order stood at the edge of the room. Still. Composed. Like he had always been there. “You should knock,” I muttered. “I did.” “You didn’t.” “You were distracted.” Fair. “What is it?” I asked. Because he wouldn’t be here for nothing. Order stepped closer. “The void is active.” “I noticed.” “Not by you.” That made something cold settle in my chest.

His gaze was fixed on the wound. “Exquisite,” he murmured, a note of genuine academic curiosity in his voice. He didn’t touch it, but I could feel his power, the cold, final energy of his office, gently probing the edges of the void. “Void-forged. A conceptual weapon. It doesn’t just damage the flesh; it attacks the very definition of its target. It’s an anchor, pulling its victim toward absolute non-existence.” “Can you remove it?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.