ã€ŠAccidental Necromancerã€‹


 Chapter 1

    I could taste the blood before my tongue traced the split. My lower lip oozed from a cut in the middle of my lip where it would be clearly visible and sure to touch everything I ate or drank before it healed. Wiggling my jaw assured me it wasn¡¯t broken, though it throbbed, as did most of my right cheek.

    Behind my back, magic pooled in my left hand. I thought the runes to shape the spell, one that would record what was said and play it back later. It wasn¡¯t easy to cast without channeling the magic through my wand, but anger helped me focus. When the spell solidified and warmed in my hand, I knew without looking that the clear orb, about the size of a golf ball, was recording.

    Locking eyes with the man who¡¯d punched me, a trim human in his late forties with salt and pepper hair and green eyes, I enunciated carefully in case he wasn¡¯t as intelligent as I¡¯d been told. ¡°I¡¯m reporting this. Frankly, I should arrest you myself, but that seems like a bad way to start my first full day as a special agent.¡±

    Colten Floyd, Assistant Special Agent in Charge of Field Investigators assigned to the Middle Tennessee region of the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, rocked back on his heels. ¡°Good luck with that. We all know it was a training exercise.¡±

    ¡°Bull. And don¡¯t try to tell me otherwise.¡± I ignored the men watching us through the window and pointed at the security camera in the corner, one of more than ten in the room. ¡°There¡¯s video evidence of us standing here and you hitting me without provocation.¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°How else was I to see if you could manifest a shield to protect you, or other agents, from physical attacks?¡±

    ¡°Ask? Or better yet, look at my past weapons and field qualifications where I did just that.¡±

    He opened his mouth, but I didn¡¯t stop. ¡°You asked if I would create a shield to stop bullets. I declined. Rather than inquire as to the reason, you hit me. Nothing in that exchange demonstrates my skill as a witch. I was told you were liked by the non-humans under your command because you understood their abilities and let them use their differences to do their jobs better.

    ¡°So far, I¡¯ve spent eight hours indulging your desire to test my abilities rather than actually doing my job,¡± I said. ¡°If you review my file, you¡¯ll find I¡¯ve passed the same basic qualification required of every field agent, as well as the magical qualification that is the current TBI standard. If you want to continue testing my magical abilities, take me off active duty for a week.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t passed my evaluation.¡±

    My eyebrows shot up. If that was his attitude, I¡¯d wasted four years at college and two years of training, during which I¡¯d only used magic during exercises and back here for testing rather than in the field. A requirement that was just for me. They already had standards for training most non-humans, but I was their first witch, and they didn¡¯t know exactly what to do with me.

    Or, more accurately, they didn¡¯t trust me. ¡°That should¡¯ve been worked out between you and the chain of command before I graduated training and was put on active duty.¡± There, a nice diplomatic response he didn¡¯t deserve.

    ¡°We have an understanding.¡± The jerk smiled.

    ¡°One that includes assaulting fellow agents?¡± I held my breath.

    ¡°Training accidents happen,¡± he said casually. ¡°You learn and become a better agent.¡±

    It only took a touch of magic to call my wand to my hand.

    Agent Floyd flinched. Now wasn¡¯t that interesting? Maybe he did work well with other non-humans, but I doubted he¡¯d worked with many magic users¡ªat least not well.

    He covered quickly with a tight smile. ¡°Why don¡¯t we get some ice for that and call it a day.¡±

    I gave him a feral smile of my own. ¡°No. We are done.¡±

    I held up the orb shaped recording spell, a third of which had gone opaque with content. ¡°I¡¯m taking this above you, first to your boss, Agent Smith, and then to other departments if he won¡¯t listen. If you want me to complete extra evaluations, it goes through the proper channels, and you never touch me again.¡±

    He paled. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°What do you think it is?¡± I took a step forward.

    Floyd had retreated five steps before he caught himself. ¡°That was a question, Agent Pine.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a recording spell. It has a record of everything you¡¯ve said since you hit me. I¡¯m turning it over as evidence in case there was some malfunction of the recording systems in this room.¡± I started toward the door.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t been dismissed.¡± He reached for me but hesitated an inch from my arm.

    ¡°I told you not to touch me.¡± As I stepped around him, I slid my wand into the thigh sheath. My hand settled on the door handle. ¡°You may be my boss, but you assaulted me. I don¡¯t need your permission to leave.¡±

    While he was still forming a retort, I yanked open the door, turned my back on him, and left. The door slamming closed let me take my first full breath since he had hit me, though it did nothing for my throbbing face.

    In the hall, the two men who¡¯d been by the window were now moving away from the door to give me space. I vaguely recognized the one in front, having seen him around during training. With the quintessential military hair cut leaving a sandy fuzz on his head, the easy confidence with which he moved, and muscles that didn¡¯t stand out but were there, he struck me as ex-military. The man behind him turned and peered through the window.

    ¡°Do you need help?¡± Ex-military held out a hand but wisely didn¡¯t touch me.

    ¡°You can come with me to report this to Agent Smith.¡±

 Chapter 2

    Going to Special Agent in Charge Tim Smith to accuse Floyd of assault on my first day was bold, even with the recording. A witness could be the difference between things being swept under the rug and a full investigation. Given Floyd¡¯s statements, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if there were numerous complaints against him.

    His eyes cut to the door behind me. ¡°Lead the way.¡±

    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± The badge around his neck was twisted. Since he¡¯d made a point by looking at the door, I figured introductions could wait and started walking.

    ¡°Keep an eye on him, will you?¡± Ex-military asked the other guy.

    I didn¡¯t hear a reply, but that could¡¯ve been because of the pounding of my heart or the anger that was growing now that I was out of immediate danger. My fingers tightened around the recording spell, which was still active. I let it continue. It could only help my case if whoever ended up with the recording could hear a continuous track from my conversation with Floyd to their own voice. Coupled with the video, it should be enough.

    Enough for what, though? I was hardly making friends by reporting a senior agent, and one who was my boss, on my very first day. Narzel, the evil trickster he was, must¡¯ve been paying special attention to me today.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t catch your name.¡± He lengthened his stride until he was beside me.

    ¡°Kelsey Pine, but you already knew that.¡± He¡¯d been at the window long enough to see me cast the recording spell and summon my wand. Besides, there wasn¡¯t anyone in the TBI, as we affectionately shortened the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation¡¯s name, who didn¡¯t know me. I was the only witch on staff and the only witch under direct police employ in the entire state. Everyone knew me.

    ¡°Wayne.¡±

    ¡°Nice to meet you, Wayne. I appreciate the help.¡± That was if I still had a future with the TBI or any law enforcement agency after this. If I was fired, the clan would take me back; their entire purpose was to organize and control witches. It wouldn¡¯t do to have us mingling with the rest of the world too much, driving down the price of magic. But the idea of going back to the clan, admitting defeat, and living with their rules left a bitter taste in my mouth.

    No. Floyd wouldn¡¯t be the end of this dream. I hadn¡¯t defied my clan, dodged a lifetime of casting the same spells, lost friends, and given up a guaranteed job to be fired on my first full day out of training.

    ¡°It was the least I could do after standing there like an idiot after he punched you.¡± Wayne rubbed a hand across his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t get you out of there. There¡¯s no excuse for my inaction.¡±

    ¡°Have you ever seen anyone being assaulted in this building before?¡± Our headquarters wasn¡¯t open to the public. There were exceptions, but we weren¡¯t a police station or a jail. Most of us were more investigators or subject matter experts than police.

    ¡°No.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Then you¡¯re forgiven.¡±

    ¡°But,¡± he continued as if I hadn¡¯t spoken, ¡°I¡¯ve been trained to act, not stand around and puzzle over events with my buddy.¡±

    ¡°Walking down the hall of a safe building chatting with a friend should be a time you can let your guard down. Besides, being a witness is useful in this circumstance.¡± Saying those words absolved me of my guilt as well. Spending a day training with another agent shouldn¡¯t have ended this way. I could be angry at Floyd for being an ass, but any self-directed anger was undeserved. ¡°As I said, you¡¯re forgiven, and if that isn¡¯t enough, do twenty more push-ups tonight as penitence.¡±

    Wayne snorted. ¡°When I was still in training, two people in forensics started arguing about what some odd marks on a bullet casing could mean. They were nose to nose and flinging insults at one another. There was also some hair pulling.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I know what you¡¯re thinking, but no.¡± The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. ¡°One guy yanking on another¡¯s ponytail.¡±

    I stopped and stared at him. ¡°You¡¯re kidding.¡±

    He held up his hands. ¡°By the earth, it¡¯s the truth.¡±

    An image of two guys in lab coats yanking each other¡¯s hair while bickering popped into my mind. Once I started giggling, I couldn¡¯t stop. Tears leaked out of my eyes as I came down from the adrenaline high I¡¯d been on.

    With it went most of the anger, leaving fatigue behind. I wiped away the tears as my thoughts settled. My face ached. Floyd deserved to be reported, but it would¡¯ve been easier if I was still angry. The adrenaline would¡¯ve carried me through the complaint. ¡°You made this harder.¡±

    ¡°I know it feels that way now.¡± He shook his head slightly. ¡°It¡¯s better to have a clear mind. You¡¯ll just have to trust me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know you well enough to trust you.¡± I pushed off the wall and resumed the trek to Smith¡¯s office. ¡°But a coherent complaint is more likely to get action than an angry rant, so thank you.¡± Though it would¡¯ve been fun to indulge in an angry rant.

    ¡°That¡¯ll do for now.¡±

    As the distance between us and Smith¡¯s office shrank, I started rehearsing what I would say. My future could depend on this conversation, and striking the right tone was vital. Factual, but firm. Smith had respected that in the past, and hopefully it would be the right method for this conversation.

    We reached Smith¡¯s office door. Wayne looked me over from head to toe, his eyes resting briefly on the spell. ¡°Ready?¡±

    I sucked in a deep breath and nodded. My heart rate picked up, and suddenly, Wayne¡¯s earlier insistence that laughter would help made sense.

    He rapped on the door. A muffled acknowledgment was all Wayne needed to open it. He motioned me inside.

    It took more than the usual amount of encouragement to get my feet moving. Under the best of circumstances, Agent Smith was intimidating. I¡¯d seen brick walls that appeared fragile next to him. At a few inches over six feet, he was nearly a foot taller than my own 5¡¯5¡±. He had the bulk too, with shoulders that looked like they could hold up the world and the muscles to go with them. Sitting behind a department issue desk, he looked like a myth that had gotten a little lost.

    He shoved a stack of papers to the side and looked up. Whatever he¡¯d been about to say died on his lips. His eyes locked onto my split lip and puffy cheek. Smith looked past me to Wayne and then back at me. ¡°How badly are you hurt?¡±

    ¡°Split lip. I think the rest is just bruised, but I¡¯m no doctor.¡± My hands shook a little, but I held out the spell anyway. ¡°Will you accept this recording? It¡¯s evidence of what happened. It¡¯s also still active, but if you accept it, I can make it stop so you can listen to it.¡± Some of that was babbling, but I hoped he would understand.

    Smith held out his hand. ¡°I am willingly accepting a recording spell from Agent Pine, who will now end the recording so it can be reviewed.¡±

    I set the orb in his hand and fed a bit more magic to the spell. ¡°Haglaz.¡± It stopped recording, and the orb turned from clear to a soft blue, with the bottom third darker than the rest.

    He set it down on the desk and motioned for the two of us to take seats. ¡°What happened?¡±

 Chapter 3

    The vinyl seat was cold, or maybe that was just me. The words I¡¯d rehearsed seemed far away. Fatigue and nerves vied for dominance. Looking at his intense brown eyes, I got right to the point. ¡°Agent Floyd hit me. He called it a training accident. When I showed up this morning, he told me that all agents assigned to him did a training review. We went through a bit of everything, firearms, policies, procedures, basic field magic, and then he took me back to the range. It was just us. He said he wanted me to demonstrate some offensive and defensive magics. We went through a few drills.

    ¡°Then he asked if I could create a shield that would stop a bullet. I said no. He punched me. I created that recording of the rest of our exchange. He said since I refused to create the requested shield, hitting me was the only way to see if I could create a shield to stop a physical attack. After a short exchange, I told him I had the recording and was reporting him for assault. Wayne and another person witnessed the assault.¡± With that, I hunched against the chair. Whatever happened next, it was out of my hands.

    Smith picked up his phone and poked a few numbers. ¡°Ice and a medic in my office, please. Also, see if anyone from evidence collection can come this way with a camera. No, it isn¡¯t that serious.¡± He hung up the phone and pushed away from his desk. He pulled a blanket out of a filing cabinet and draped it over me before returning to his seat. ¡°I want documentation, not because I doubt you but to prevent anyone else from questioning your integrity.¡±

    I nodded as the impact of those words sank in. I was being protected. I would be able to wake up tomorrow, come to work, and do my job.

    ¡°Harris, what did you see?¡± Smith asked.

    It took me a moment to realize Harris was Wayne¡¯s last name.

    ¡°Agent Barnes and I were walking down the hall when we passed the indoor range. I looked over to see Agent Pine and Agent Floyd talking. Floyd appeared unhappy with the conversation and Pine was calm. Then he punched her in the face. To my regret I was too surprised to immediately rush in. I checked with Agent Barnes, who also saw the assault. At that point we realized Agent Pine did not need our assistance. She had a recording orb in her hand, which I don¡¯t think Floyd could see. They had a short exchange, only a minute or so, and she showed him the orb before leaving. At that point I offered to come add my testimony. Then we came directly here.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°Is that everything?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Agent Harris glanced at me before focusing on Smith. ¡°When Agent Floyd struck Agent Pine, she lost her grip on her wand, and it ended up on the floor several feet away from her. Later, she used magic to call the wand to her hand. Agent Floyd flinched. When she showed him the orb, he backed away. I believe him to be afraid of active magic and magic practitioners, either in general or of Agent Pine specifically. Nothing in the interaction I saw gave me a reason to believe Agent Pine had threatened Agent Floyd with magic, but I couldn¡¯t hear the exchange.¡± His voice was factual through the entire report.

    On the bright side, I wasn¡¯t the only one who thought Floyd wasn¡¯t comfortable around magic. But I wasn¡¯t thrilled that Agent Harris had considered the possibility that I¡¯d threatened Floyd.

    A knock on the door had Smith motioning for us to be quiet. He opened it a crack and then stepped back, holding the door wide. An athletic woman in khaki pants and a blue polo strode into the room. As soon as she was through the door, Smith closed it.

    The bag on her shoulder had to weigh thirty pounds, but her posture was square. The French braid holding back her chestnut hair was tidy, but it left her powerful jaw looking a bit square. The slender nose and small mouth didn¡¯t quite balance out her face, though she was more eye catching for the lack of perfection, not less. She took in the room, settling her attention on me, and headed over.

    ¡°My name is Eileen, and I¡¯m going to take a look at your face.¡± She set the bag down next to me and narrowed her eyes. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Kelsey. A punch.¡± I had a feeling I was going to be explaining my face for a while. Maybe I should come up with a cool story?

    Nah. The truth was better, and other agents needed to know about Floyd¡¯s behavior.

 Chapter 4

    She tugged on gloves and took a pen light out of the bag. Staring into the light wasn¡¯t much fun, but it only got worse from there. She clicked off the pen and prodded my cheek. Medically necessary or not, it hurt. Pride had me clenching my teeth and hissing answers to the level of pain in each area. The macho act wasn¡¯t necessary, but I didn¡¯t want Smith or Harris to see me whine.

    After poking at me, Eileen rocked back on her heels. ¡°I don¡¯t have any minor healing charms with me. From touch, it doesn¡¯t feel like anything is broken. If you¡¯ll allow, I can tell more with magic.¡±

    ¡°Go for it.¡± The healing part wasn¡¯t here or there. I had a few charms at home and could tend to myself.

    ¡°Is healing part of your magical abilities?¡± Smith loomed over us. Not intentionally¡ªhe just couldn¡¯t help but loom.

    Eileen tipped her head to the side. ¡°I¡¯m just a hedge-practitioner. I could heal her, but I won¡¯t because I don¡¯t have enough magic to heal her and risk not being able to help someone who¡¯s far more seriously injured later today or tomorrow. What I want to do is feel her bones and ensure she doesn¡¯t have a hairline crack or other damage I can¡¯t find with touch.¡±

    This was how Eileen and I differed. Humans sometimes had a bit of magic, a knack or even enough to be a hedge-practitioner like Eileen. However, they didn¡¯t compare, at least in sheer power, to a witch. Just as Eileen had been born human, I¡¯d been born a witch. Humans and witches looked the same, but I had a life expectancy of nearly three hundred years and the ability to create, channel, and manipulate large quantities of magic.

    Smith motioned for her to continue. ¡°As long as it isn¡¯t healed until after it¡¯s photographed.¡±

    Eileen lost her professional smile. ¡°Got it.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know what she thought, and I didn¡¯t care. As soon as we were done here, I wanted to go home, open a bottle of wine, and read a romance novel¡ªwhich was the extent of my current love life¡ªand try to forget about this day. Since documentation took ages, it was going to be a while.

    Eileen rested her thumb against the underside of my jaw and spread out the rest of her fingers. Her pinky rested next to my nose, and the rest of her fingers pressed against the top of my cheek, almost up to my temple. She closed her eyes, and a slight tingle spread across my face. The buzz lasted for a count of three, and then it, along with Eileen¡¯s hand, was gone.

    I shook my head to get rid of the last tingles, which set my face to throbbing again. Narzel blast it all.

    ¡°Can I give her the ice pack now?¡± Eileen asked.

    Smith nodded.

    I didn¡¯t waste any time in pressing it against my face. The cold started to seep in, and I closed my eyes.

    ¡°No broken bones, though several of the ligaments holding the molars on her upper jaw are loose. She¡¯ll need to stick to a soft diet for a few weeks. No indication of any damage to the teeth.¡± Eileen hesitated. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be a bad idea to follow up with a dentist or get a healing from a charm or direct magic.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Talking hurt enough that I just nodded.

    From there, things moved along briskly. The photographer showed up and took what felt like a thousand pictures of me with various lights and filters to see the bruising that hadn¡¯t shown up yet. While I was going blind from the flash, Eileen and Agent Harris filled out statements. Smith excused himself to listen through the recording. When he returned, he settled in behind his disk, fingers drumming steadily. Only a minute later, he shoved away and started pacing.

    When the photographer finished, I realized Agent Harris and Eileen were both gone. As I wrote out my account of what happened, Smith continued to pace but now punctuated his laps with frustrated sighs. I wished he¡¯d sit down. The combination was making my headache worse.

    ¡°Done.¡± I pushed my statement across the desk.

    He hurried to his seat and snatched my statement off the desk.

    The seconds ticked by on the clock, and I was sure each one was slower than the last. I should¡¯ve been done at five. Now it was closing in on eight. Even with the ice, the ache had expanded to encompass nearly half my head, which throbbed, and my stomach had taken to rumbling angrily. Mostly, I wanted to go home to food and a healing charm.

    Smith set my statement down and rapped his fingers on the desk. ¡°This will be kept, along with the other statements, the recording, and photographs. I was also able to retrieve the footage from the cameras in the range. It includes the audio, which matches your statement and recording. Agent Floyd will be suspended while everything works its way through the system. I¡¯ll personally see to his suspension first thing in the morning.¡± His face softened but didn¡¯t lose the glint of anger. ¡°I don¡¯t know how this will shake out long-term. Your job is safe. If this stays contained, then none of Floyd¡¯s friends will have reason to cause trouble.¡±

    ¡°But he has enough friends that it¡¯ll be hard to keep this from getting out.¡± I finished what he hadn¡¯t been willing to state. It wasn¡¯t anything I hadn¡¯t already considered.

    ¡°You¡¯ll report to me until things are settled. There¡¯s lots of work. We need you, and his behavior was inappropriate.¡± Smith studied my statement again. ¡°I just don¡¯t know what will happen.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡± I couldn¡¯t keep the bitterness from my voice. Two years of training, being all but kicked out of my clan so I could work here, and Floyd could make this a hostile environment.

    ¡°Others could come forward with similar stories.¡±

    Maybe, but I was willing to bet very few of Floyd¡¯s subordinates had been women who used magic. For all that he called it training, it didn¡¯t seem like something he¡¯d do to a man. Since I did want to keep my job, I asked, ¡°Can I go home?¡±

    Smith nodded. ¡°Do you need a ride?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± I hesitated at the door, better judgment winning out over the hanger and fatigue. ¡°Thank you. Not all men in your position would¡¯ve taken a complaint like this seriously.¡±

    Smith closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them, his eyes were dull and somber. ¡°Decency doesn¡¯t need thanks. I¡¯ll deserve it if I can handle this without it affecting your career.¡±

    ¡°Take half my thanks now. We can decide the rest later.¡± I left before he could come up with another way to be undeserving. A good man isn¡¯t responsible for a bad one¡¯s actions, but I didn¡¯t have it in me to convince him of that tonight.

    My footsteps echoed down the tile halls. A few agents were still at work, but I didn¡¯t see Floyd, for which I was grateful. It only took a moment to retrieve my purse and lunch box from my desk. Then I made a beeline for my car.

    Fabian, my cherry red 1971 Volvo P1800E, gleamed under the streetlight. Like he had on every bad day since I¡¯d turned eighteen, Fabian gave me a smooth, safe ride home, soothing away some of the day¡¯s stress with the purr of his engine.

 Chapter 5

    When I¡¯d first contemplated an apartment back in college, everyone had warned against Hermitage. It was dangerous, no place for a single woman, they said. Four years on and I hadn¡¯t had any trouble, but that¡¯s because no one really meant dangerous. They meant it wasn¡¯t the trendy part of town, like Belle Meade or Bellevue. The rent was also cheaper.

    Then again, my apartment was a little different than most. Fabian settled into his spot in the two-lane driveway in front of a massive brick colonial. After living here for years, I still wasn¡¯t sure if this was a very old building that had been refitted several times or an older building that had been refitted. Either way, the colonial had once been a mansion, complete with real hardwood floors, intricate molding, and all the details that would¡¯ve been built into a mansion one hundred and fifty years ago. Today it was an apartment building, with six units, two on each floor, and a basement the owner occupied.

    The carved oak front door opened before I could reach it, spilling light onto the stairs. Even knowing the door hadn¡¯t opened on its own, I could only just make out the edge of Randolf¡¯s body behind the door.

    ¡°I smell your blood.¡±

    He stepped into full view. The brown loafers, creased slacks, and sweater layered over a button-down fooled some people. Shallow lines marked the corners of his eyes and mouth, giving him enough age to match the outfit. People generally spotted the red hair and wrote the pale skin off as genetic. He was something far more dangerous than the Irish, though they were known for being fierce in their own right.

    I went inside, closing the door behind me. ¡°My idiot boss punched me to see if I could protect myself against physical attacks.¡± I couldn¡¯t call my family, and most of my childhood friends had turned their backs on me when I left the clan business, but Randolf would never betray my confidence.

    Randolf stilled when he saw my face in the light. For ten long seconds, he didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t breathe. Though, being a vampire, his breathing was strictly optional. ¡°Is he alive?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Pity.¡± He enfolded me in a hug.

    I leaned into his cold body and felt safe. No one would hurt me here. A few tears leaked out of my eyes, but I told myself that was normal. The result of an emotional day.

    ¡°A hundred years ago, I would have killed him for hurting you.¡± He rubbed my back.

    ¡°A hundred years ago, I would¡¯ve too, but I can¡¯t kill my boss and keep my job. Not like that, anyway.¡±

    I inhaled deeply. Long before getting this close to a vampire, I¡¯d heard they smelled like death. The shifters I knew said they smelled not alive, but not rotten. To my nose, Randolf carried the scent of cold and a hint of wood smoke, and it never failed to conjure the comfort of being by the fire on a winter¡¯s day.

    ¡°Ah, well. I will settle for seeing you to your apartment and securing the building.¡± With a cool finger, he lifted my chin toward the light. ¡°His weight was behind it,¡± Randolf hissed. ¡°I have a salve.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°There¡¯s a healing charm waiting for me in my medicine cabinet.¡± Which I wanted to make use of before dinner so I could eat without my lip throbbing or my teeth hurting more than they did.

    The doorbell rang. Randolf snapped to attention and inhaled. ¡°Chinese?¡±

    ¡°Dinner. I ordered before I left the office.¡± I dug around in my purse, pulling out a few dollars for the tip.

    Randolf slid the money out of my hand. ¡°I¡¯ll see to it. Go up and get the charm.¡±

    The doorbell rang again.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I forced my tired feet to move and trotted up two flights of stairs. The doorbell chimed yet again as I stepped into my apartment.

    Sparse was a kind term for my place. It had the basics, carefully scavenged from yard sales and secondhand stores, with the exception of the art. Each piece was a reproduction of a classic, not a print, but a painted canvas, complete with the texture I loved so much. Each one of them was a gift from Randolf. I¡¯d tried to refuse the first one, but he¡¯d insisted. I¡¯d held out until my shower needed work and had come home to find the Lady of Shallot hanging in my living room over my chaise. From there, it was a losing battle.

    I made a beeline for my bathroom and snatched a small wood disk out of a basket. This one was lightly tinted green with herbs fused to the surface. I prodded my lip with my tongue. It cracked open again, and I pressed the charm to my lip. The blood sparked the magic, and the charm went to work. The pain faded away, and the charm went in my pocket as I washed up.

    When I went back to the main living space, Randolf had set the table for the two of us, including a bottle of red wine.

    He looked up from pouring blood into his wineglass. ¡°Better.¡±

    ¡°It feels better.¡± The ache that had engulfed half my face was gone, and a quick prodding with my tongue proved that the split lip and the loose teeth ligaments were healed.

    Randolf didn¡¯t say much as I dug into the egg foo yung, slathered in mustard rather than duck sauce because they knew my order. The first pancake was sitting comfortably in my stomach when my social graces returned. ¡°How¡¯s the blood?¡±

    ¡°A lovely O positive.¡± He took a sip before carefully placing the goblet in the center of his placemat. ¡°What happened? Did Agent Floyd or Agent Smith assault you?¡±

    I told him the full story between bites, finishing as I ate the last of my dinner. I traded the water for my glass of wine and swirled it as Randolph gazed at the Lady of Shallot across the room.

    Between one moment and the next he went from being a statue to looking at me and breathing. ¡°Fear is powerful, but is it powerful enough to make a man who has spent years without a viable mishap lash out on camera?¡±

    I set down the wine and leaned back. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I hadn¡¯t thought about it.¡± It was entirely possible there was another motive, but I was too tired to figure out what benefit there could be from assaulting me. Unless, it had something to do with my clan. ¡°What about my clan?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. They would like you to return.¡± Randolf tipped his head to the side. ¡°If it is them, they¡¯ll reach out.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t go back. They¡¯ll find out eventually and, you know¡­¡±

    Randolf bowed his head.

    My eyes slid over to the fish tank and Bubble, the skeleton of an Oranda goldfish, doing lazy donuts.

    Witches were creatures of earth, sun, sky, wind, and magic. Death, while natural enough, wasn¡¯t part of our domain. I didn¡¯t know of any creatures who could claim any power over death. Vampires were more of a pause in the cycle. Ghosts were more spirit.

    Bubble broke from its circles and swam to the side of the tank to point its skull in my direction, the oversized eye sockets empty. I opened my shields a crack and reached for my power, past the warm energy I used for most spells to something colder. It flooded through me, lifting goose flesh on my skin. On the outside of my left leg, something akin to warmth blossomed. I pointed, and a slender strand drifted from me to the tank, settling across the water. Bubble darted to the surface, snapped its mouth shut, and then repeated the action, feeding like any live fish.

    Closing my eyes, I pushed the power down, shoving it back into a part of me that was hidden from everyone.

    Witches weren¡¯t supposed to have domain over the dead, but I did.

 Chapter 6

    There were civilized hours for phone calls, and it didn¡¯t take the bright numbers on my phone burning their way into my eyes to know this wasn¡¯t one of them. ¡°Hello?¡± My voice cracked, and I cleared it three times as the person on the other end waited.

    ¡°Agent Pine?¡± asked a feminine voice.

    ¡°Speaking.¡± My voice cracked again. ¡°Or trying to.¡±

    ¡°Agent Mitchell.¡± Shouts filtered across the line, but she didn¡¯t answer them. ¡°I¡¯m standing at a crime scene that needs your expertise.¡±

    ¡°Where?¡±

    ¡°South Nashville.¡± She hesitated, knowing that wasn¡¯t terribly descriptive.

    ¡°Send me the address. It shouldn¡¯t take me long to get there.¡± Not at four-thirty in the morning. I tossed the phone onto my bed, where it chirped and flashed an address.

    I mapped it out while I munched on a protein bar. The area wasn¡¯t far, about fifteen minutes at this time of day. The kettle whistled, and I filled up a travel mug, grabbed my purse, and headed out.

    Randolf paused from tending the roses under the moonlight. ¡°Early morning for you.¡±

    ¡°Police business.¡± I saluted him with the mug. ¡°Boss hasn¡¯t ruined everything yet. Living the dream.¡±

    He laughed and waved as I drove away.

    The dream it might be, but it would¡¯ve been helpful to know what awaited me. Sometimes they forgot that I wasn¡¯t like other officers, that I might need things that weren¡¯t in my car or on my person.

    Unlike forensics, there wasn¡¯t a standard witch kit. We all did things a little differently, and every agency had their own ideas of what we should be able to do. Right now, everything I thought I was likely to need fit comfortably into a backpack, with two overflow bags of just-in-case items carefully stowed in my trunk.

    The item I most needed, my wand, was nested in a sheath strapped to my thigh. That had played tricks on my trainers who didn¡¯t know what do with my gun, so it sat in a cross-draw holster on the front of my left hip.

    Magic, not equipment, was what I really brought to the table. Plenty of races had their own magic, but most of them couldn¡¯t do magic. Witches could. A professor in college had said our bodies were different, storing and channeling amounts of energy that would kill most creatures.

    That was why I¡¯d refused Floyd. Under the right circumstances, I could probably make a shield that would stop some bullets (there was always a more powerful bullet), but that would take a lot of power. Depending on how much I put into the spell, it could take days for me to recover enough magic to be able to do my job properly.

    As I pulled into the parking lot of CJ¡¯s Machine Shop, I put Floyd out of my mind. Smith would take care of him. Tonight, I was here to be a police witch and give them answers to magical problems.

    The metal-clad warehouse was nearly identical to its neighbors, with flat roofs and aged siding. The small parking lot was overflowing with cars from the Nashville Police, TBI, and several unmarked vehicles like mine. Two forensics vans had gotten as close to the door as they could. What I noticed was what wasn¡¯t here. No ambulance. Either they¡¯d come and gone or this was going to be a different type of scene entirely.

    With my badge showing clearly, and the TBI jacket keeping the morning¡¯s chill away, I slung my pack over my shoulder and headed for the front door. An officer outside the door checked my credentials.

    Being a witch didn¡¯t give me fantastic night vision or an extraordinary sense of smell, but I could scent blood and the putrid odor of bowels.

    ¡°Booties and gloves are next to the door.¡± He stepped aside to let me in.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± I slipped my other arm through the backpack¡¯s strap. I didn¡¯t want it to shift around or fall, and I really didn¡¯t want to go back out to the car if I needed something.

    Behind the officer was a small entry, with a second door propped open a few inches. A table with boxes of booties and gloves sat next to a big trash bag. It only took a moment to slide into the booties and gloves. Before I braved whatever was behind the door, I stuck an extra pair of gloves in my pocket.

    Sucking in a deep breath, which was probably a mistake because I got another whiff of whatever horrors were behind the door, I pushed it open and stepped inside.

    Not even the dozen people crowded near the door could distract from the interior. Big machines filled the warehouse. Even now, they hummed with electricity, and lights blinked both on the machines themselves and nearby computers. To my right, a section was walled off, likely for an office.

    What held the officer¡¯s attention was impressive in its own right. The floor was painted in heavy streaks and small pools of blood. One particularly thick streak vanished down a lane between two machines. Whatever was at the end of the trail had the collection of officers looking anywhere but there.

    A tall woman turned and headed toward me. From the back, she had looked human, but she was a dark elf, with gray-brown skin, large eyes, pointed ears. Her white hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her hands rested comfortably on her belt. ¡°Agent Pine?¡± She held out her hand. ¡°Agent Mitchell.¡±

    I shook her hand. ¡°Here and ready to assist, though from what I¡¯ve seen it looks more like a job for forensics.¡± My head tipped toward a pool of blood.

    ¡°There¡¯s more.¡± She swallowed hard. ¡°This way. I hope you aren¡¯t squeamish.¡±

    Growing up, I¡¯d done my share of hunting and preparing the meat. But this wasn¡¯t likely to be a neatly butchered deer. As she led me between two machines and along the thick streak of blood where all the officers wouldn¡¯t look, I figured I was going to find out my exact level of squeamish.

    The bright overhead lights didn¡¯t hide much, which was a bonus for investigators. Even when the streak went from thick to slender lines, it was easy to follow around a shelf laden with sheets of steel. On the floor was a mess that had once been humanoid.

    ¡°Tell me if you think it¡¯s a matter for witches now,¡± Agent Mitchell said.

    Rather than focusing on the remains, I squatted down and took a closer look at items scattered around. On the un-bloodied sections, I could make out wood grain and etchings. One even had an herb embedded in the surface. Since they had the look of charms, I closed my eyes and relaxed a mental guard.

    Then I saw the world as few creatures could. Traces of magic, red-orange in tone, clung to the broken charms. It was impossible to tell from a quick look what they¡¯d been. The blood and death had intertwined with the magic, twisting what remained of the original spells.

    My eyes followed a darker trail of magic through the blood and to the body. Though, I¡¯d been better off calling it remains because it was a more accurate description. Not much was left but bone, blood, and flesh that clung to the skeleton. The intestines had been piled to the side, leaving the body cavity open. Large chunks were missing from several organs, the kidneys, liver, and lungs. Those weren¡¯t parts many people would eat raw, and the marks reminded me of the impressions a cat would leave behind.

    The head had the least damage. In life, and I guessed in death too, the victim¡¯s hair was dyed red. One ear had a gauge that had stretched the lobe enough to distort the shape. The forehead was crushed and the skin missing, perhaps eaten. Mostly, I was grateful I couldn¡¯t tell which.

    My stomach lurched, and I made the mistake of taking a deep breath. The putrid scent of the punctured intestines settled into my nose. Bile crept up my throat. I pressed my lips together. I would not be sick at my first gruesome crime scene.

    I looked at the remains in their entirety. Magic wrapped around them in fine lines. Like the other spells, blood and death had crept into this magic. Even through my shields, I could feel it reach for me. This was the kind of power evil enjoyed, gaining from pain, blood, and death. It was a terrible power, corrupting those who used it until they were as tainted as their magic.

    ¡°Anything?¡±

    ¡°You were right.¡± I turned away from the body. ¡°Is there a theory on the bite marks?¡±

    Her eyes darted to the body and then back to me. ¡°Bite marks?¡±

    ¡°Yup.¡± I walked around her to get back to the rest of the personnel.

    ¡°We need you to tell us if it¡¯s safe to process the scene.¡± Agent Mitchell followed me.

    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± I said over my shoulder.

    ¡°Then what are you doing?¡±

    I ignored the question. The mixed group from different agencies watched the two of us but seemed reluctant to go back to the remains. I didn¡¯t blame them, but I was hoping someone had the expertise I needed. Three people half-zipped into bunny suits, the forensics techs, leaned against the wall. Until they could do their job, they were on standby. Of the more police types, I doubted the dwarf knew anything. The vampire was a better choice. The rest were human looking, though that didn¡¯t stop them from being shifters or having useful skills.

    ¡°Can anyone identify canid or felid bite marks?¡± A few eyes widened, and I quickly added, ¡°I just need a theory so I can unravel some magic.¡±

    The group shuffled as a new person pushed their way to the front. ¡°Just what are you doing here, Pine?¡± Floyd marched over to me, anger radiating off of him.

    Narzel blast it. What was he doing here?

 Chapter 7

    I held my ground and tipped my head back to look him in the eye. He should be smart enough to behave here, and if he wasn¡¯t, I had more witnesses to his poor conduct. For a moment I considered mentioning his suspension but decided against it. The idea was to diffuse the situation. In a few hours he could get the news from Smith.

    ¡°Agent Mitchell called me in.¡± I motioned over my shoulder with my thumb.

    He didn¡¯t even look at who was behind me. ¡°That¡¯s not how you are assigned to cases. You need to stand down until I determine if this case needs a witch.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re behind. A memo went out last night.¡± Mitchell squeezed herself between us.

    I backed up to give her room, glad to have the staring contest over.

    For the first time, Floyd hesitated.

    ¡°¡®Agents are to use their discretion in determining when to call in Agent Kelsey Pine. She will make a further assessment as to the application of magic and her ability. Be advised there are limits to every agent¡¯s ability. Agent Pine will operate to maximize her effect, which may mean minimizing magical output. ¡ªSAS Tim Smith.¡¯ Take it up with him if you don¡¯t like what I¡¯ve done.¡± She took a step forward, and he moved back. ¡°As of an hour ago, I¡¯m coordinating the response between Nashville Police and the TBI. You can stand by the door and help with trash.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t do that,¡± he snarled.

    He wasn¡¯t very smart because the officers behind him were tense, and the vampire had glided forward several feet. I was happy to be far enough away to avoid another punch, but this time, I had a spell ready, just in case.

    Mitchell leaned forward until their faces were almost touching. ¡°You don¡¯t outrank me. This is my case and my scene, so I can tell you to get out of the way or just get out.¡±

    Floyd puffed up.

    I slid my wand out of the sheath.

    I don¡¯t know what Floyd would¡¯ve done because his phone rang shrilly. He yanked it out of the belt clip, caught sight of the number, and paled. He answered as he turned and walked out of the building. ¡°Agent Colten Floyd speaking.¡±

    Everyone watched him until the door closed behind him.

    My hand shook as I shoved my wand back in the sheath. A few shallow breaths, because I wasn¡¯t willing to inhale these odors too deeply again, steadied me. I owed Agent Mitchell and whoever was on the other end of that phone call. Without them, well, I doubted Floyd would¡¯ve listened to reason about the dangers of the magic on the remains.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Agent Mitchell¡¯s eyes were full of concern.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    She raised an eyebrow.

    I sighed heavily. ¡°Thank you. I don¡¯t know how that would¡¯ve gone without you.¡±

    She shrugged, like it wasn¡¯t an issue, but also checked the door. ¡°What¡¯s his problem?¡±

    ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know. I met him the first time yesterday morning.¡± Whatever issues Floyd had with me wasn¡¯t restricted to my magic. It almost felt personal, but I didn¡¯t know any other Floyds. Maybe I could leverage the assault and ensure we weren¡¯t on the same cases in the future.

    ¡°Do your job. I¡¯ll deal with him.¡± Mitchell rubbed her temple. ¡°I need to make some phone calls.¡± She headed outside, stopping to strip off her booties and gloves.

    The officers and techs were talking quietly, and while I could hear some of it, I didn¡¯t need to. Floyd had made sure we would be fueling gossip for a while. Perfect. Just perfect. Half the people would think we¡¯d been lovers and the other half would think not being lovers was the reason for the fight. Since I didn¡¯t even know why we had a problem, I couldn¡¯t set them straight¡­ even if they¡¯d believe me.

    The best thing I could do now was be professional. It had zero chance of outweighing the scene Floyd had made, but it might temper their views.

    ¡°All right,¡± I spoke loud enough to be heard clearly over their conversations. I got their attention¡ªas well as plenty of speculating looks. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about the interruption. Can anyone here do any bite mark identification?¡±

    The three techs shook their heads, which was what I expected from them. One of the humans spoke up. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be able to tell one type of damage from another.¡±

    ¡°I can identify human and vampire bite marks,¡± the vampire offered. Her pale blond hair was in a tidy ponytail under her Nashville Police cap. A few inches shorter than me and slender, she would¡¯ve been considered delicate as a human.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°That¡¯s a start.¡± I turned and headed back to the remains.

    Before we turned the corner, I hesitated. Floyd showing up wasn¡¯t any excuse to be rude. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for being curt.¡±

    ¡°After that exchange, I would be on edge as well.¡± She started to offer her hand, but realized her glove was streaked with blood and turned her palm up in a what-can-you-do motion. ¡°Officer Talula Wilson.¡±

    ¡°Kelsey Pine.¡± Most of the normal social graces didn¡¯t fit this situation, which wasn¡¯t the most comfortable feeling after all the time my mom had spent drilling me in southern manners. ¡°Before you take a look, I did find traces of magic. I know you know this for forensic reasons, but it also applies with magic. Don¡¯t touch anything. Try not to get within a couple of inches.¡±

    Wilson¡¯s eyebrow arched. ¡°Could you tame the magic first?¡±

    I considered, tipping my head from side to side. ¡°Maybe, but what I see is concerning. It looks to me as though the body was eaten. Most creatures that would eat a body wouldn¡¯t have magic.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Wilson¡¯s face cleared and she held up a finger. ¡°You are trying to determine the connection between the lack of flesh and the magic so you can better work your magic.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. Are they separate or connected? I may never know for sure, but if this a ritual I haven¡¯t encountered, the more I know, the better.¡± Not just for the criminal case, but for everyone here as well. The blood magic would need to be purified or contained. It could also be masking other spells, ones I would do well to avoid.

    Wilson rounded the corner ahead of me and crouched beside the remains. She started her examination at the feet and worked her way up.

    The second sight of the remains was just as powerful as the first and just as horrible. I wanted to be unaffected, and while the sight wouldn¡¯t haunt my dreams, the suffering would. Death alone wouldn¡¯t create blood magic this potent. This person had been alive when the creature attacking it had taken the first bites. They¡¯d struggled, adding fear and desperation to the pain. A heady mix for anyone who sourced their power from death.

    ¡°They were alive.¡± Wilson looked up at me and noted my lack of surprise. ¡°But you knew that already.¡± She returned to her examination.

    ¡°It¡¯s the intent behind the injuries that I question.¡± A human might have thought I was crazy, but Wilson understood.

    ¡°Not human or vampire.¡± She made a sour face. ¡°Flesh does not appeal to us in this way.¡±

    ¡°Nor to most humans.¡± If this was a new method of creating blood magic, it was one of the more horrific I¡¯d seen.

    She stood up in one of those ¡°too quick for the eye to follow¡± moves vampires did so casually. ¡°I do agree, carnivorous animal. Large canines, though that doesn¡¯t rule out a cat. Marks from their teeth have left impressions on the lower ribs and some organs.¡±

    ¡°Shifter or animal?¡± It made a difference as far as intent. A starved animal might eat a person, though I couldn¡¯t think of one native to this area that could consume so much meat in one sitting or would leave the intestines and other organs behind.

    ¡°The jaw seems large.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I am no expert to tell anyone what made those marks, and the medical examiner wouldn¡¯t much care for me doing his job, but they are large marks. Though some of the cuts, especially on the torso, seem to be made with a blade.¡±

    ¡°One eating and one cutting?¡± After some time with the body, the medical examiner could tell me, but that wasn¡¯t much help now.

    ¡°Perhaps.¡±

    If that was the case, there could be a pile of tissue somewhere. ¡°Has anyone found body parts or blood in other areas?¡±

    Wilson¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Yes, on the other side.¡±

    ¡°I need to see that too.¡±

    As I followed her, I tried to understand what had happened. Something had eaten the dead man, and if Wilson was right about the tool marks, either the same person or a different one had also used a blade on the victim. But why? There were tidier ways of killing. Neither blood magic nor cannibalism required this mess.

    Since I could still see magic, I noticed the streaks and pools of blood had glints of spells, but none of them were corrupted with blood and death magic. Whatever had twisted the spells to feed off the victim had done so in the corner, on this side.

    We passed by the office. Other than a streak of blood on the outside of the window, it appeared untouched. Behind the glass, tidy stacks of papers and a computer with a ball bouncing back and forth across the screen waited for the day to start.

    The victim could be an employee or even the owner. He wouldn¡¯t be back to work. His family was probably waiting for him to come home, and it would be days before they had any real answers.

    The thoughts brought more reality to my job and hardened my resolve. Whoever he was, he deserved a proper funeral. No matter how valuable the magical evidence, I¡¯d see that his body was purified so they could give him a proper send-off.

    Wilson stopped and pointed in a corner between the office and a piece of equipment. After the other side of the warehouse, this simply didn¡¯t have any impact. Two hunks of flesh, likely from thighs or another muscular part of the body judging from the lack of organs, were laying on the ground in small pools of blood.

    A light tint of magic covered both of them, but they were completely untouched by whatever had twisted the spells on the other side. This I could investigate safely.

    I drew a strand of magic out of myself, shaping it into a slender cord. The tendril moved at my command, hovering over the hunk of flesh closest to me. The spell on the body chunk was quiet, content to simply be. Taking a deep breath, I touched the probe to the magic. It was too fractured for me to get much from it, but the parts I could identify seemed to be some type of a stimulant spell, though stimulating what, I couldn¡¯t say.

    Since the flesh itself wouldn¡¯t tell me much, other than the fact it was dead, I pulled the probe back and tiptoed around the blood to the second chunk of flesh. Up close, the flesh wasn¡¯t a usual human tone but a winter green.

    This had belonged to a fey.

    I let the probe hang just above the spell, and the slivers of magic felt like what I¡¯d found on the last piece. When the probe connected with the magical remnants, I found an almost identical spell fragment. This one had a bit more of the commands about what was being stimulated, something inside a person. Given what I¡¯d seen so far, I was afraid hunger for flesh was what had been stimulated.

    With that cheerful thought, my stomach clenched. That was it. Steak was off the menu.

 Chapter 8

    ¡°Pine?¡± Mitchell called out.

    ¡°Coming.¡± I pulled the probe back and dodged around the blood. Ahead of me, Wilson seemed to slide from one clear patch of floor to another without effort. Not for the first time, I wished witches had gotten something like grace or athletics along with the magic.

    The group by the door had lost a few people, and it was easy to see Floyd wasn¡¯t with them. It was probably too much to hope he was sitting in handcuffs, but the thought had appeal.

    From the furrowed brow and arms folded across her chest, Mitchell hadn¡¯t enjoyed her phone calls, but her irritation didn¡¯t seem to be directed at me. ¡°Anything?¡±

    ¡°This is theory, not an official report.¡± I waited for her to nod. ¡°We know at least two people were in this building, the dead man and the fey who¡¯s missing a chunk of flesh. I think there had to be one more. Not because of the chunk of fey remains, but because Wilson noticed both teeth marks and tool marks on the body. Fey¡­ I don¡¯t think they¡¯d eat flesh at all. So, that leaves one person eating the deceased. That person could¡¯ve used the tools, so we¡¯re looking for a fey with a bite taken out and someone who took the bite out.¡±

    Mitchell tapped her fingers against her arm. ¡°None of that is magic. You¡¯re here for magic. We have other people for scene reconstruction.¡±

    I winced. ¡°Right. Um. There was a spell in effect when the two bites were taken out over there. I can remove the spell, and it¡¯ll be safe to handle. The remains on the other side are a different story. That area is covered in blood magic. I don¡¯t know if the blood warped the spells or if someone took advantage of the situation, but it has to be purified.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t that destroy the spells?¡± Mitchell asked.

    She knew her magic. That could work in my favor or not. ¡°Well, yes.¡±

    ¡°Tell me you can do something to salvage the evidence.¡± A hint of desperation laced her voice. ¡°We need everything we can get to catch the monster who did this.¡±

    I braced myself to upset two superior officers in twelve hours, which had to be a record. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s too dangerous. Once I¡¯ve purified the remains, all the spells¡¯ evidence will be gone. I¡¯ll also have to purify everyone here, just to be safe. You don¡¯t want this getting out.¡±

    She looked past me and tapped her foot while she thought. Her eyes locked with mine. ¡°What if I get a second opinion?¡±

    ¡°On blood magic?¡± I didn¡¯t hide how crazy I thought that idea was. ¡°Most witches won¡¯t touch it. They¡¯re afraid it will contaminate their magic. Even if they agreed, the price would pay my salary for five years. Let¡¯s say you get the cost approved and get another witch out here. They¡¯ll take one look at that and tell you to burn it. Good luck solving your case then.¡±

    Now Mitchell¡¯s frown was directed at me. ¡°Fine, do it your way.¡±

    I headed for the door; the items I¡¯d need were in the car.

    ¡°Floyd is in the parking lot.¡±

    ¡°Narzel blast it.¡± I pivoted to face her. ¡°Really?¡±

    She nodded tiredly. ¡°Smith called, and they argued. I talk to Smith, and he told me not to leave the two of you alone. I don¡¯t need your drama messing up my investigation.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not my drama, it¡¯s his.¡± My voice rose enough to get the attention of everyone there. Great. Now I was the drama. Exactly what I didn¡¯t need on my first case as expert witch. My career was off to a fabulous start. ¡°I only met him yesterday. I think he hates witches.¡±

    Mitchell tossed her hands in the air. ¡°Women, witches, especially both, I don¡¯t know.¡±

    I narrowed my eyes. Maybe this wasn¡¯t a problem between Mitchell and me. ¡°Word on the street is Smith has a file with complaints.¡±

    Her frown turned into a sharp smile. ¡°It¡¯s getting thicker.¡±

    With the tension between us gone, other conversations drew the officer¡¯s attention away. I huffed out a frustrated breath. ¡°I¡¯ll get rid of the magic that doesn¡¯t need purification. If we¡¯re lucky, he¡¯ll leave before I need anything.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Her shoulders relaxed.  ¡°The medical examiner will be here soon, and that¡¯ll be a big help.¡±

    Getting back to the chunks of flesh wasn¡¯t particularly fun, but I managed without damaging evidence. The spell fragments themselves were easy enough to wrangle. Channeling my efforts through my wand, a polished and hand-carved, eleven-inch white pine, I pulled the magic away from the flesh and shattered the spell remains before dispersing the energy into the earth. I did the same with the bits of magic clinging to the blood streaks from the chunks of flesh to the corner that hid the remains. Another foot or so was untainted, but that would be cleaned after I purified the rest.

    It took longer to check that I hadn¡¯t inadvertently absorbed any of the magic than it did to destroy the spells. That magic hadn¡¯t been corrupted, but I didn¡¯t want so much as a speck of the energy in this place mixing with my own.

    Mitchell had probably hoped removing those spells would take more time, but it was a quick process. Sooner than either of us liked, we were stripping off our booties and gloves and heading into the parking lot.

    I kept a sharp eye out as we walked to the car but didn¡¯t see Floyd. After the earlier nonsense, I was properly grateful. Mitchell looked relived too, but she still kept watch as I traded the backpack for a fanny pack from my extra supplies. In nondescript black, it didn¡¯t look like much, but it had all the things a witch needed for purifying blood magic.

    That wasn¡¯t strictly true. I was going to purify all the energy or the magic. They were often one and the same. Then I¡¯d remove what shouldn¡¯t be there if it lived through the purification ritual.

    Back in the warehouse, and properly clothed in protective gear, I prepared to destroy evidence. Not just destroy, but destroy and add things to confuse the scene. Forensics, the medical examiner, and the district attorney¡¯s office wouldn¡¯t be happy, but none of them would be contaminated and go on a killing spree, which balanced it out in my mind. Not having studied the effects of blood magic to the same extent, I suspected they wouldn¡¯t see the benefits of destroying evidence quite the same way.

    It took some creative footwork, but I managed to encircle the remains, anything that looked corrupted by blood magic, and the remaining blood carrying traces of regular magic in salt. Inside the salt line, I sprinkled a mix of dried oregano, rosemary, thyme, and cloves to help charge the spell.

    Forensics really would hate me for this.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    With the two circles closed, I retrieved a plastic bag from the fanny pack. After double-checking to make sure I didn¡¯t have any blood on my hands, I slid a thin square of purified linen out of the bag. Embroidered onto it were row upon row of runes, each one done in painstaking detail that I hoped not to repeat any time soon.

    I draped the cloth over my left hand and pointed my wand at it. ¡°Nazid.¡± The cloth lifted up into the air and hovered at eye level. Narrowing my eyes, I guided it to the center of the area that needed purification.

    Drawing up a thick strand of magic, I connected it to the cloth and cast the purification spell. ¡°Alkaz.¡±

    Golden white light shone out of the embroidery as it amplified the power I gave to the purification spell. Magic, pure and cleansing, streamed out of the top of the cloth and spread until it hit an invisible barrier the ring of salt had created. It flowed down the sides and rushed across the floor. The leading edge of the wave turned rust brown as it encountered the corruption. By the time the magic converged directly under the cloth, it had turned black. It flowed up, a darkness in the center of light, until it touched the cloth. The light flared brighter, burning away the corruption until it shone gold.

    Behind me, I heard someone gasp and several exclamations of surprise, though not all of them were in language that entirely fit a ritual centered around a wholesome cleanse.

    Some of the purification magic flowed back to me, eliminating the knots of tension that stress and worry had left. It cooled as it moved around the birthmark on the outside of my left leg, but that wasn¡¯t a thing that could be purified.

    The spell came to a close far less dramatically than it had awakened. The light faded away, the magic going with it, until the linen was left floating above the remains like some gruesome circus show.

    I brought it back so it again hovered over my hand. ¡°Tewaz.¡± It dropped onto my open palm, as clean and pure as before. The runes I¡¯d carefully stitched into the cloth included spells for self-purification, making the item reusable until the energy destroyed the cloth.

    A careful look confirmed the blood magic was gone, as was the rest of the remnants that had been mingling with the blood. That was the benefit of purification spells, they burned through other magics while cleaning.

    After carefully replacing it in the plastic bag and securing it in the fanny pack, I turned back to the group. Mitchell had turned away, an arm shielding her eyes. Dark elves didn¡¯t handle daylight well, never mind the blinding show I¡¯d just put on. ¡°Sorry. I should¡¯ve warned you.¡±

    Mitchell peeked out from behind her arm before lowering it and straightening. ¡°Are purification spells always that bright?¡±

    ¡°Often. Again, sorry.¡± There wasn¡¯t much more I could say at that point.

    A tech with his suit partly unzipped to show the TBI t-shirt underneath kept staring behind me. ¡°You sprinkled things all over the crime scene.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡± I thought they understood why I was here and what I was doing. Apparently, I¡¯d been wrong.

    ¡°You contaminated the scene!¡± He started forward, only to have the dwarf block his path.

    ¡°Can it, lad. She was doing her job.¡± The expression on the dwarf¡¯s face said he¡¯d seen things, things he wished he could forget. ¡°Now it¡¯s time for you to do yours, and count your blessings that she was here to keep that nastiness from latching on to you.¡±

    The tech¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Could that have happened?¡±

    I looked him and everyone else over before answering. They were clean, or as clean as anyone was on an average day. ¡°It can, but you¡¯re fine. If you notice any unusual urges to experiment with magic or hurt someone, get evaluated.¡±

    He nodded but didn¡¯t seem reassured.

    Tired, more so than when I¡¯d gotten up thanks to the spells, and ready for a better breakfast, I turned to Mitchell. ¡°Do you need me for anything else?¡±

    ¡°Out back. We found more body parts.¡± She pointed at the forensics team. ¡°You know what to do until the medical examiner gets here.¡±

    The one who¡¯d questioned me lagged behind the others in donning the rest of his gear.

    Mitchell led me out a side door to a cut open trash bag next to the dumpster, which was illuminated by three portable lights.

    In the predawn, the artificial light was harsh, bringing too much detail to the blood and flesh spilling onto the gravel.

    ¡°Syed,¡± I swore. ¡°A monster did this. Who else would mutilate a body this way?¡±

    Her lips pressed into a thin line, Mitchell crossed her arms over her chest. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Until the medical examiner sees this, I¡¯m also not sure if it¡¯s the same person or a different one.¡±

    Rather than looking at the horror, I focused on the magic. Like the remains inside, these had traces of spells warped by blood magic. ¡°I¡¯ll have to purify these too.¡±

    ¡°I thought as much.¡± She sighed.

    Since nothing I could say would make her feel better about the purification destroying evidence, I got to work. Because this was a smaller area and had less magic to begin with, though I wasn¡¯t sure why, it didn¡¯t take long to remove the traces of blood magic.

    When I finished, I dusted off my hands and scanned the gravel around the dumpster and on each side of the building. Whoever had moved the body parts had kept the magic contained, which was less work for me but also less evidence.

    Satisfied that my job was done, even if my colleagues wouldn¡¯t appreciate everything, I reported to Mitchell. ¡°It¡¯s clean. Do you need anything else?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°You did your part and can go.¡± Her eyes narrowed. ¡°Would you like company?¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Just because I could protect myself from Floyd didn¡¯t mean I wanted to. It would be a lot of paperwork, and after this morning, I¡¯d had plenty of that.

    We passed the medical examiner on the way in. Police departments and related fields tended to be more human than not, but the medical examiner was a lithe elf with his silver hair pulled back into an intricate braid, leaving his pointed ears in full view. He tipped his head respectfully toward me and Mitchell. I thought about apologizing for the damage I¡¯d done to the evidence, but if he was like any of the other medical examiners I¡¯d worked with in the past, I¡¯d have a phone call later today demanding an explanation. It could wait until then. If I was quick, I could hand him my official report and skip the uncomfortable conversation.

    Outside, the fresh air pushed most of the stench out of my nose, and I sucked in deep breaths. This weekend I should get out of the city, visit my family and soak in the mountain air.

    Mitchell stood beside me, her face turned up and nostrils flared, as the sun edged over the horizon. ¡°No Floyd.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you did to get rid of him, but thank you.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t me.¡± At my raised eyebrow, she amended, ¡°Not entirely. I don¡¯t know what transpired, but Smith called me back. He wants to see you today.¡±

    ¡°I figured.¡± Even if Floyd hadn¡¯t been an idiot this morning, I would¡¯ve been seeing Smith again about yesterday¡¯s assault. ¡°Thank you, really. We haven¡¯t worked together before, and you stood up for me.¡±

    Mitchell grinned. ¡°Read the memo, and get me that report before the end of the day.¡± She patted my shoulder and headed back inside.

    ¡°Will do.¡± I stowed my gear and carefully backed out around the medical examiner¡¯s van. They could¡¯ve given me a few more inches clearance, but I managed.

    On the way into the office, I went through a drive-through. The sandwich didn¡¯t make it two miles.

    Even at this hour, the office was busier than one would expect. For law enforcement, mornings started early and with gusto as the night¡¯s mischief or gruesome murder was reported.

    When I got to my desk, Smith had made himself at home as he reviewed a stack of papers.

    I shoved my purse in the drawer and wished I¡¯d had enough time to prep a lunch. ¡°I¡¯d ask what I did, but given the phone calls I know you received, I¡¯m afraid I know the answer.¡±

    Smith capped his pin with a clunk. ¡°Agent Floyd is suspended and should not be at any other crime scenes or inside this building unless it¡¯s for questioning or review.¡±

    I hitched my hip on the edge of the desk. Five hours of sleep wasn¡¯t enough to leave me in a sunny disposition. Floyd should¡¯ve been suspended last night. Everything that had happened at the scene this morning could¡¯ve been averted with correct action. But I shouldn¡¯t say that, so I opted for a safer response. ¡°Good.¡±

    See? I could keep my mouth shut when it mattered.

    ¡°Report any additional problems he creates directly to me, and I¡¯ll deal with them.¡± Smith gathered the papers and stood up. ¡°Agent Mitchell might¡¯ve told you. I changed the orders regarding your deployment. Agents are to make their own evaluation as to the necessity of calling you. If it doesn¡¯t work, we¡¯ll figure out something else.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good, sir.¡± I really tried to make that sound sincere, but what I really heard was all the driving I¡¯d be doing from one end of the region to another every time an agent thought magic would magically solve their case.

    He turned the empty chair toward me. ¡°I want to see that report by lunch.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± I told his back as he strode out of the room.

    He lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

    I sank into my chair and poked the power button on my computer. It sprang to life and cheerfully informed me it had ninety-seven updates. With a sigh, I dug a legal pad out from under a stack of papers and started making notes. Computers were the paperless revolution. Right.

 Chapter 9

    The file landed on Smith¡¯s inbox with a thump at eleven. After a leisurely lunch, I was ready to go home and sleep. Since that wasn¡¯t an option, I had to get to bed earlier tonight, or tomorrow was going to be rough. Back at my desk, sorting through old files to see what might need my attention, sleep was sounding better and better.

    The phone rang, and I plucked it off the cradle without looking away from a diagram of wound patterns on a victim attacked two months ago by something monstrous with teeth. ¡°Agent Pine speaking.¡±

    ¡°Agent Thomas. I have a situation in progress that would be best managed with your presence. Are you available?¡± he finished in a rush.

    ¡°Yes. What¡¯s going on?¡± I snatched my purse out of the drawer and dug out my keys.

    ¡°Magic gone wrong.¡± He rattled off an address, which I copied down as quickly as I could. ¡°Get here quick.¡± He hung up.

    As I rushed out the door, I double-checked my wand, which was still in my thigh sheath, and punched the address into my phone. Twenty-five minutes of driving in midday traffic. A lot could go wrong in that time.

    I settled behind the wheel of a department-issue car and wished it was Fabian as I flipped on the lights and headed out. The lunch rush clogged the streets, and even with the lights, I didn¡¯t break any records getting to the address.

    It wouldn¡¯t have killed Agent Thomas to give me a bit more detail. They had codes for things, but when magic was going wrong, those seemed to fly out of their brain, and all I got was ¡°magic problem.¡± It didn¡¯t occur to them that some information would make me better at my job. No, that was too much common sense.

    I darted down an exit off Highway 24 and ended up in front of an ugly building that proudly proclaimed GET MAGIC GOODS.

    Half a dozen police vehicles formed a loose circle around the front parking lot, effectively blocking the entrances. The front of the shop had seen better days, the sheet metal showing rust in a few spots. The neglect extended to the sign, where half the plastic was missing out of the M, leaving only the light bulb visible.

    There had to be at least as many officers on scene as there were cars, but the only one I could see was next to the door. With a long look over his shoulder, he started my way.

    I jogged across the pavement to meet him half way. Up close, his short hair was gray and the lines on his face had been earned from years of seeing too much. I held my badge up for him to see. ¡°Agent Pine, TBI¡¯s witch. I got a call.¡±

    He turned on his heel and matched my jog. ¡°Jameson. There¡¯s a person either doing magic or under its influence. We can¡¯t get close enough to get cuffs on him and the only ones of us available for the call are humans.¡±

    ¡°What kind of magic have you seen?¡± I tugged my wand out of the sheath and hoped I had enough magic in reserve to deal with this.

    ¡°Stun guns don¡¯t work. He can push things away without touching them, and he¡¯s very angry. So far, we¡¯ve kept it non-lethal, and we¡¯d like to end it that way.¡± Jameson pulled open the door. ¡°Last I heard, they were in the back.¡±

    Inside wasn¡¯t any more impressive than the name had led me to believe. The shelving was set too close together for the aisles to be comfortable, and every one of them was heavily laden with various magical and supposedly magical items. Given a choice, this wasn¡¯t the sort of establishment I would frequent when buying supplies.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    I spotted a love potion. Last I¡¯d heard, real love potions were impossible or illegal. Only a shelf over sat a self-heating and self-stirring pot for the low price of twenty dollars, I added a legalities check to this call¡¯s itinerary.

    ¡°Through there.¡± Jameson pointed toward an open door between two sets of wall coolers.

    A bright pink bottle caught my eye. I hadn¡¯t known long-lasting beauty could be found in the refrigerated section.

    Ignoring the other brightly colored and likely illegal bottles, I stepped between the wall coolers. Through the door were more shelves with stacks of boxes on them, and some debris on the floor, likely from the fight. I motioned for Jameson to hang back.

    ¡°Easy! Easy.¡± A man lifted his voice to carry above growls that I wasn¡¯t totally sure a human could make. ¡°We have someone who can help, but I need you to put the box down.¡±

    It probably wasn¡¯t the best time to step into the room, but that had never stopped me before. I ducked just fast enough to dodge the box that flew through the space my head had occupied hardly a second before.

    I twisted around to peer between pallets at where it had come from, and it was hard to be sure exactly what had thrown the box. At some point, the creature had been a humanoid man. Now, he was hunched and distorted. It was as if his muscles had grown and didn¡¯t fit his body anymore. They didn¡¯t fit under his clothes either. His shirt had split at the seams, showing lines of skin down his biceps, forearms, and shoulders. The veins on his face and neck stood out sharply. He snarled, looking more beast than man, and bared his teeth.

    The creature plucked another box off the pile beside him, though strictly speaking, his hands didn¡¯t touch it, and propelled it across the room. Swirls of magic colored the space behind him and trailed through the air. ¡°I said no more men!¡±

    Wand in hand and ready to redirect any boxes, I stood up. ¡°Then they kept their word. I¡¯m Agent Kelsey Pine, and I want to help you.¡±

    He tipped his head back and inhaled. ¡°Magic.¡±

    A chill crept down my spine. Humans couldn¡¯t sense magic, not directly. ¡°Witch. I can help you.¡±

    ¡°I like magic.¡± His tongue traced his teeth.

    Somehow, I didn¡¯t think he meant he liked working in a magic shop. As delicately as I could, I extended a probe and pushed it toward him. Ten feet away, the air began to flow with spells. Little bits of magic, like small charms that had been sucked out of where they belonged to orbit a larger spell.

    He tipped his head to the side and looked directly at the air where my probe had encountered the spells. ¡°I don¡¯t like that.¡±

    I flat out wasn¡¯t sure what to say. I had to put effort into seeing exactly where the probe was, so how could he see it?

    Magic gathered around him. Through all the spells, it was impossible to see what he was doing, though the pattern was simplistic enough that I didn¡¯t think he was a witch. He caught my eye and growled. The magic exploded out.

    I didn¡¯t have time to cast a proper spell, but I pushed magic through my wand, forming a dome around me to reduce the shock. It would¡¯ve worked, but a body slammed into me, shoving me behind a pallet.

    Jameson slid past me into an open space, and I watched as the magic hit him. A quarter second more and I could¡¯ve created another spell. As it was, all I could do was watch as the blast snapped his head back.

    I¡¯d never forget the crack as his neck broke or the way the life drained out of his eyes before he collapsed.

    My fault. I hadn¡¯t been fast enough. I hadn¡¯t kept an eye on him. My fault he¡¯d thought he needed to save me.

    The man pounced on Jameson and yanked his gun out of the holster.

    ¡°Sowil.¡± A spherical spell designed to contain its contents formed around the creature. I leaned on a pallet as I got to my feet. The spell wasn¡¯t strong enough to stop bullets, but one problem at a time.

    The man cocked his head to the side. In one fluid movement, he touched the spell, which dissolved and started shooting at the other officers.

    ¡°Nazid.¡± I jerked my wand to the side as I cast the spell, yanking the now levitating gun out of the monster¡¯s control.

    He turned and snarled at me.

    ¡°Mannaz.¡± I hurled the sleep spell somewhat desperately. I could fix him, but not while he was fighting.

    It collided with the spells in the air, mixing and reacting into a new spell. It would still put someone to sleep, but my orders weren¡¯t directing it anymore. Now the sleep spell latched onto air molecules.

    ¡°Narzel blast it.¡± My lack of foresight had already resulted in one death. I couldn¡¯t let any others suffer.

    Even though I knew the risk, I turned away from the creature and blocked off the door and the rest of the room. ¡°Sowil Haglaz, Sowil Haglaz.¡± This time I fed more magic to the spells, enough that they should hold through the creature¡¯s attempts to pass.

 Chapter 10

    Three sharp lines of pain blossomed across my side. The force of the hit shoved me to the ground. I lay there, my side aching, as I gathered enough magic for another spell. Even without being able to see him, I focused the tight coil of magic that marked him in my senses. ¡°Fehu.¡±

    I pushed myself to my feet and tucked my left arm tight against me. My side felt damp. The sleep spell wasn¡¯t enough to knock me out, but the blood loss could.

    A fine layer of ice encrusted the man, but it wouldn¡¯t last long. I reached into the core of my power and settled in for a difficult cast. It would take all the power I had left. ¡°Obala o sowil¡±¡ªI was sure he had twitched, so I sped up the cast as the magic flowed out of me¡ª¡°en Kannu, alkaz¡ª¡±

    He tackled me, his shoulder going squarely into my diaphragm before I could finish the spell. We crashed into the ground, and my head hit the concrete floor hard enough for my vision to go gray. My wand was gone, and so was most of my magic.

    Only my second day as an agent, and I was the reason for Officer Jameson¡¯s death and my own. Did it get more pathetic than that?

    Across the floor, Jameson¡¯s lifeless eyes looked at me accusingly. He had given his life to protect me, and I couldn¡¯t even make his sacrifice have meaning.

    The monster brought his face next to mine and licked my cheek from jaw to temple. ¡°Witch tastes good.¡±

    My remaining magic gathered in my birthmark, of all places. Deep inside me, the forbidden well of cold power I knew better than to reach for unfurled. It sucked the magic from my birthmark and shot out of me.

    Warm breath washed across my face, carrying with it the stink of magic gone wrong.

    I closed my eyes and hoped the end would be quick.

    The icy power blossomed and moved.

    One moment the monster¡¯s saliva was dripping down my neck, and the next, his weight was gone.

    A sharp crack forced my eyes open.

    The monster¡¯s arm was turned the wrong way, the way arms didn¡¯t turn. Human hands with a tattoo in the place of a wedding ring released the monster. I followed those hands up to a face I knew.

    Jameson turned, as if he felt my gaze, and came toward me. Cold blue swirls of magic replaced his pupils. ¡°Mistress, may I help you?¡±

    I nodded, too unnerved to speak.

    Jameson, or his zombie, rolled me over and helped me to sit. Lightheaded from the blood loss and expenditure of magic, I swayed. Without any input from me, Jameson scooted me across the floor until I could lean against a pallet stacked high with boxes.

    He crouched beside me. ¡°What else do you need?¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The magic in his eyes scared me to my bones. The clan would kill me for this if they ever found out. Illegal or not, I¡¯d be dead and buried on their land before I could say necromancer.

    Raising a fish and keeping it undead was one thing. A human¡­ I¡¯d thought that beyond my power without ceremony and sacrifice. Though considering all my experience was with Bubble, who I¡¯d raised as a child, it wasn¡¯t like that assumption was based on a broad knowledge base.

    ¡°Jameson,¡± I whispered through dry lips. ¡°What do you remember?¡±

    ¡°I felt the pressure change, and I forgot you were a witch. Back in my army days, I lost good men to a similar blast. The idea was to get both of us behind the pallets, but I slid too far. And I died.¡± He tried to blink away tears. ¡°You¡¯ll tell my wife and kids I love them? That I don¡¯t want to leave them.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell them,¡± I said hoarsely. Not right away, but when they wouldn¡¯t blame me for his death. If there was ever a time they didn¡¯t blame me and I was still alive to pass on the message.

    He pressed his lips together and jerked his head in a nod. A few seconds later, he continued. ¡°You brought me back. I answer to you now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I couldn¡¯t leave him like this. No one would understand, and it would cause everyone more pain. Looking at the magic in his eyes, the magic that was unmistakably the cold power I¡¯d kept locked away all my life, I saw his pain. ¡°Lay down as you were before you answered my call.¡±

    He bowed his head before turning away. When he was back on the ground, his head turned to look at me, eyes still cold blue with my power, I opened myself up and tugged at the magic animating him. If there were runes to focus this magic, I didn¡¯t know them. ¡°Jameson, be at peace. Rest and walk no more.¡±

    My birthmark tingled, and cold power trickled back into me, taking the light from his eyes with it. It settled into the dark place, the place that had once been its prison but now felt more like its refuge. Across the room, Jameson¡¯s eyes gazed at the room, unseeing.

    He was dead, again, and even if the first death wasn¡¯t my fault, I¡¯d killed him the second time.

    The radio on his shoulder squeaked, and a thin voice came through. ¡°Jameson, Pine? Do you read me?¡±

    At least five other officers had been on scene when I arrived. They should¡¯ve been trying to get to us, but I hadn¡¯t heard anything from them since the creature had added a sleeping spell to the air.

    Pulling up the last of my magic, I extended probes through the building. I hadn¡¯t gotten the shields up fast enough. Dismantling the barriers across the doors let me recover some magic, enough to cast a spell that destroyed the sleep spell. It would also burn through what was in their bodies, and they should be up soon.

    Until then, I was the only one who could call in. With one hand pressed to my ribs, which continued to bleed and ache, I crawled across the floor. Halfway to Jameson, I found my wand and shoved it in the thigh sheath.

    By the time I got to Jameson, I was shivering, sweating, and struggling to hold my hand steady enough to push the button. ¡°Dispatch, this is Agent Pine. Officer down at Get Magic Goods. Officer down. Subject of initial complaint dead.¡±

    Dispatch asked for more details, but I didn¡¯t have them.

    As I lay on the floor and waited for help, I looked at the magic coating the room. The spells focused on the twisted creature had mostly died with him. What remained on his body contained hints of the same stimulant spell I¡¯d found this morning and bits of magic from all around the shop.

    Not willing to risk that mess jumping to another person, I picked apart the core of the spell and let the magic dissipate back into the earth. Two small areas had been contaminated, likely from the mass of spells he¡¯d collected, and I unmade those too. By the time the sirens reached my ears, the building was safe again. That was for the best, really. I was all out of magic.

    Seconds later, officers swarmed the building. It didn¡¯t take them but a moment to get EMS to me. An elf pressed a warm hand to my forehead, and the pain vanished.

    The physical pain. Nothing could ease the hard knot of fear that had taken residence in my stomach or the anguish from seeing Jameson die.

 Chapter 11

    ¡°It¡¯s been a rough two days for you, hasn¡¯t it?¡±

    It was a struggle to open my eyes, but I knew that voice, and it wasn¡¯t one I¡¯d expect to hear when my last clear memory was of Jameson¡¯s lifeless face. The white walls and fluorescent lights weren¡¯t a surprise, but Agent Harris looking down at me sure was.

    ¡°I¡¯m tough.¡± I felt around until he pressed the controller into my hand. He pulled a chair over as the bed rearranged itself so I could approximate sitting. When the gears stopped, he passed me a cup of water, which I drained before handing it back. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. ¡°How are you really?¡±

    My side didn¡¯t hurt, which was a bonus. The IV jabbed into my arm wasn¡¯t fantastic, but expected. The standard issue hospital gown was also par for the course, though I wouldn¡¯t be getting out of bed while he was here to see me. But the doctors had likely passed on the pertinent information already. ¡°I¡¯ll make it. Did they heal me or stick me and give me good pain meds?¡±

    ¡°The first.¡± He sighed. ¡°Smith will be here soon. He couldn¡¯t get away, and I had questions before I headed over to the scene.¡± He saw the question in my face. ¡°Ballistics and the like.¡±

    ¡°You go to scenes?¡±

    ¡°Depends. In this case, with an officer dead and you in the hospital, yes.¡± He paused. ¡°Who fired and at what?¡±

    That I could answer. As I told him how the monster had gotten Jameson¡¯s gun, I realized I¡¯d decided to lie about reanimating Jameson. He was dead, for which I¡¯d always feel responsible, but I didn¡¯t want to die. Unless someone else raised Jameson and asked what had happened, there was enough strange magic in the store to explain most anything. That was how Jameson kept moving, and it had nothing to do with me. As long as any mention of necromancy and reanimation stayed out of the reports, and more importantly the news, my clan never had to know.

    I must¡¯ve trailed off because Harris took my hand in his and squeezed gently. In his eyes were sympathy and shadows from his own experiences. ¡°I know it¡¯s hard, and it never really gets easier.¡±

    It was too much. I closed my eyes and shook my head. ¡°He¡¯s dead because he tried to save me. I could see the magic. If I¡¯d told him to stay back, that I could take care of myself¡­ but I didn¡¯t. While trying to shove me behind cover, he ended up in the open. Now he¡¯s dead.¡±

    ¡°Pine¡­ Kelsey, I was part of the group that went around teaching departments how to work with a witch. He had training.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± My eyes popped open.

    ¡°Every officer had training on what to do and how to interact with their resources, usually a hedge-practitioner if they were lucky or contracts with clans. It¡¯s not ideal, as you know.¡± He sighed, likely thinking about how much easier their job would be with more witches on staff. Magic had a way of creating messes. ¡°Look, part of the length of your training was to give the rest of us, TBI and locals, time to research how other police forces have utilized their witches and worked with them. We did outreach and training.

    ¡°He was taught not to do that. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he saw you and thought you didn¡¯t know what was coming. No matter how you look at it, he made his choice. You aren¡¯t responsible for his actions.¡±

    ¡°H¡ª¡± Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have asked, but I had to know. ¡°How long until you believed that?¡± I held my breath.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    His face hardened. ¡°I accepted it as fact.¡±

    That¡¯s what I¡¯d been afraid of.

    A rap on the door broke the moment. Harris let go of my hand as a woman in a doctor¡¯s jacket came into the room. ¡°Kelsey Pine?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s me.¡±

    ¡°Doctor Kate Richards. You¡¯ve had an exciting day.¡± She came at me with the penlight of doom. ¡°Agent Harris, could you leave us for a moment?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be in the hall.¡±

    When the door clicked shut behind him, she started listing my injuries as she looked over my side and removed the IV. Turns out those claws had damaged the bone as well as the soft tissue. ¡°We healed the damage to your side. You lost a lot of blood, which only time can help.¡±

    While I wasn¡¯t sure what my side had looked like before, the thin pink lines were an improvement. It ached a bit when I moved, but Dr. Richards assured me that would finish healing over the next couple of days. ¡°When can I leave?¡±

    ¡°Now, but you need to take it easy. Between the physical healing and regenerating your magic, that¡¯s a lot for a body, even a witch¡¯s body.¡± She narrowed her eyes. ¡°Your colleague tells me there¡¯s a nasty bit of magic on the loose. No more physical injuries for three days, and don¡¯t drain yourself again for at least that long, though a week would be better. Deal?¡±

    ¡°Deal.¡± The air conditioning whooshed into the room and across my back. ¡°Do I have any clothes?¡±

    She pointed to a pile under the bedside table. ¡°Remember what I said. No more injuries.¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±

    My head swam a bit, but I was steady enough to get the clothing some thoughtful person had brought. The door clicked shut while I was smiling at my shoes that a kind person in the ER had unlaced rather than cut off my feet. The track suit was a size too big, but that covered the lack of a bra better than something more formfitting. Luckily, I didn¡¯t have enough chest to draw attention under baggy clothing. After a trip to the bathroom, I returned to the room expecting to see Harris and found Smith.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you up.¡± He held up a bag. ¡°Your weapon, wand, holsters, and badge.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s good to be up.¡± I hesitated. ¡°About the cases¡ªI need a good night¡¯s sleep before I do any more magic, and I¡¯m under strict orders to avoid injury for a bit.¡±

    He lost the smile. ¡°We¡¯ll talk on the way back to the office.¡±

    It was a long walk to the car, one where I had too many thoughts, all of which I tried to keep off my face. Smith did nothing to break the silence. The doors closed, and the silence continued until he pulled onto the road. ¡°I don¡¯t know how much you remember, but you kept trying to tell people that the magic was the same. The same as what? You¡¯ve only worked one other case so far.¡±

    I swallowed hard. Luck hadn¡¯t been a big feature in my life, but right now I had my toes crossed that I hadn¡¯t mentioned anything about necromancy while I was babbling. ¡°The subject of the initial call was suffering from the same magic that stimulated the adrenal system. The medical examiner will have to confirm, but it seems to trigger an exaggerated fight or flight response. It mixed, I¡¯m not sure how, with the other magics in the shop, exaggerating the effect.¡±

    Smith swore. ¡°Was this subject the killer at the first scene?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t say for sure, but I doubt it. This felt like a more diluted version of the magic, still potent but not at the same level as what I found this morning.¡± I thought for a moment about how to explain the difference. ¡°This felt like a secondary infection type of a thing. Whatever caused the first issues was far more potent.¡±

    Smith tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. ¡°Given what I¡¯ve seen from the first crime scene, that would leave one or two people roaming about, carrying magic that can twist other magics and likely make them inclined to attacking.¡±

    As grim as that sounded, he had the measure of it. ¡°That¡¯s about it.¡±

    He swore, and we lapsed into silence.

    We were pulling into the TBI parking lot when he spoke again. ¡°I know you need to rest, but we also need your initial report. Then I¡¯ll have someone drive you home.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± There wasn¡¯t another answer, no matter how scared I was that someone would figure out I¡¯d raised Jameson from the dead or how tired I felt. Without this information, other people could die.

    I¡¯ll give Smith credit, he did what he could to speed the process along. It still took two hours to get everything set up, and it was more of a final report than initial one, but that was less work for me tomorrow, so on balance, the time was well spent.

    At five, I was leaning against Fabian, waiting for my chauffeur with my small bag of belongings clutched to my chest. My purse and keys were missing from that bag, and I really hoped whoever showed up to drive me home would have them.

    Agent Harris strode out of the building, my purse over his shoulder and my keys dangling from his fingers, a smile spreading across his face. ¡°I hear you need a driver.¡±

 Chapter 12

    Harris revved the engine as he merged onto the highway. ¡°Nice car.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± I closed my eyes, not that I would fall asleep with him driving Fabian, but it felt restful.

    ¡°Shame about the seats.¡±

    ¡°Replaced before I bought it.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Harris. Some women like cars. I take care of Fabian, and he takes care of me. More reliable and longer lasting than any of my boyfriends.¡±

    He snorted.

    ¡°The Volvo P1800E is the best sports car Volvo ever made,¡± I said. Cracking one eye open, I saw a hint of amusement on his face. ¡°Why are you driving me home?¡±

    ¡°I volunteered.¡± He checked the mirror before sliding over a lane. ¡°I owe you for not coming to your rescue, and I didn¡¯t want you to get stuck with another Floyd.¡±

    ¡°Harris, we¡¯re coworkers. You don¡¯t owe me anything. Besides, you made us square by adding your statement.¡±

    The last thing I needed were rumors that I was seeing another agent. Bad enough to be the first witch, and a woman to boot. I didn¡¯t need another reason for people to behave poorly.

    ¡°Off duty, it¡¯s Wayne.¡± Without prompting, he flipped a turn signal and took the exit for my apartment.

    ¡°Fine. Wayne, I appreciate everything you¡¯ve done for me, but we¡¯re square. The best thing you can do now is leave me in peace. It¡¯s been a hell of a day.¡±

    And it wasn¡¯t over yet. Dad and I needed to have a talk about Jameson coming back to life. Raising a goldfish was one thing. A human was a different matter entirely.

    He didn¡¯t say anything until the car was crunching the gravel of the circular drive. ¡°Where should I park?¡±

    ¡°Under the red maple.¡± I pointed to a gap between two cars.

    Harris eased Fabian into his spot. While I gathered my things, he came around to my side and opened my door with a flourish. Ignoring his hand. I eased my aching body out of the car. Grateful as I was for the healing, they could¡¯ve done more for the rest of me.

    ¡°Rest well.¡± He pressed the keys and a slip of paper into my hand.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°My number.¡± Harris stepped around me and headed down the driveway.

    I stared after him, to tired and achy to understand. ¡°Why?¡±

    He turned back with a warm smile. ¡°Because I like you.¡± The smile faded away. ¡°I know what it¡¯s like to lose someone and feel responsible. Call if you need to talk.¡±

    Like was a powerful word when we worked together. Especially partnered with the offer to talk. To cover my surprise, I asked the first question that came to mind. ¡°Do you need a ride?¡± Not that I was in any shape to give him a ride, but I¡¯d figure something out.

    A silver pickup truck pulled into the driveway with a mid-thirties man behind the wheel.

    ¡°Nope. Called a friend.¡± Harris waved and got into the truck. He waved again as the truck passed me following the loop of the driveway.

    Like as in want to date or like as in friend? It was a crucial distinction. One I didn¡¯t have time to ponder right now. Not when I¡¯d just raised a man from the dead. That was the pressing issue.

    On my way up to my apartment, I grabbed my mail out of the box. It ended up on my dining room table, another problem for later. A dragon emblem on one of the envelopes reminded me to call ahead for my flight and a ride. Half an hour later, after a quick shower and sandwich, a cab pulled up to the front of the building. I slid into a windbreaker and headed out.

    Ten minutes later, I handed over a tip and stepped onto an open field. To the right, a tall barn abutted the trees, but to the left, the grass stretched for acres. The evening sun backlit distant hills, casting long shadows across the grass.

    ¡°Arrre you Mssss. Pinesss?¡± a voice hissed from right behind me.

    I spun around, hand reflexively going for my wand in the thigh sheath.

    The dragon jerked its head back, seemingly just as shocked as me. How something that large could sneak up on a person, I¡¯d never figure out, though my fatigue might have played a part. From nose to tail, it was at least twenty feet long, which put its age at a similar number. It was a young dragon, but still formidable. Its entire body gleamed where the sun struck its amber scales. A saddle with ties to secure the rider on during aerial maneuvers perched on the dragon¡¯s back, held in place by spells.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± I huffed out a breath. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m Kelsey Pine.¡±

    ¡°And I am Jolly.¡± The dragon tipped its head to the side. ¡°I know itsss an odd name, but when yourrr given name is twelve syllablesss, it becomes preferable. I will be your ride tonight.¡±

    ¡°Nice to meet you, Jolly.¡± I couldn¡¯t help smiling over the name. ¡°Do you have the coordinates?¡±

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    Jolly nodded. ¡°All I need is verification of your clan membership.¡±

    I set my backpack purse on the ground, and set the windbreaker on top of it. I turned my right arm wrist-side up so Jolly could see my clan scar. To most people, a clan scar looked like a tattoo, but they showed up at birth and didn¡¯t change unless a witch¡¯s clan affiliation changed. My clan wasn¡¯t happy with me, but they still claimed me, and so did the squished V with serifs on the three ends that had been the symbol for the Bausen clan since it had formed thousands of years ago.

    Dragon rides around Tennessee were one of the few clan perks I could still claim, though I doubted it would go unnoticed since I hadn¡¯t taken one in two and a half years.

    ¡°Verrry good.¡± Jolly bobbed its head. ¡°Mount up, and we¡¯ll be on ourrr way.¡±

    I retrieved my things, zipping up the jacket all the way, and scrambled into the saddle. When I tied the last strap holding me on, Jolly looked over their shoulder, checked that I was properly in place, and spread their wings.

    Three surging beats later, we were in the air. I¡¯d never found adequate words to describe flight. The world below faded to a moving tapestry while the air chilled, and the only sound was that of the wind itself. I crouched close to Jolly¡¯s neck and lost myself in the ride.

    Not even ten minutes later, we¡¯d left the city far behind, and trees dominated the landscape. Jolly angled down and headed for the yard behind my family¡¯s house. With heavy wingbeats, Jolly settled onto the grass.

    I untied the straps and slid off. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Jolly bowed their head. ¡°I hope you enjoyed the ride. Call if you need a return trip.¡±

    I turned and headed to the house. The force of Jolly¡¯s wings had me hurrying forward as the dragon took off.

    The back door swung open. Mom looked out, her auburn hair hanging in a braid that reached her hips, barefoot in jeans and a sweater with the sleeves pushed up. Her brows pulled together, and her amber eyes went from the dragon to me. ¡°Kelsey, what¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°Is Dad home? I need to talk to him.¡± I swallowed, trying to ease the lump in my throat. Maybe coming here had put all of us in more danger, but I didn¡¯t know what else to do.

    Mom pulled me in for a hug. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to hold back the tears of relief. Finally, I was with adults, not new ones like myself, but mature adults, ones who should know the answers to my questions. Real adults.

    ¡°Lynn, who¡¯s there?¡± Dad¡¯s voice came from inside the house.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Even if everything has fallen apart, we¡¯re family.¡± She pressed a kiss to my forehead before releasing me. ¡°Kelsey came by dragon to see you. Drew and Stacy could use a run. We¡¯ll shift and go for a romp while you catch up.¡±

    I followed Mom into the kitchen. Not much had changed since I had moved out six years ago. The cabinets were the same yellow pine with iron hardware, and the tile countertop shone bright white in contrast.

    Dad hadn¡¯t changed much either. A few more gray hairs decorated his temple, but most of it was the same deep brown as my own. Mostly, my memory of him had changed. At one point, I¡¯d thought him capable of carrying the world on his shoulders. He still seemed superhuman to me, almost always right and uncannily good at predicting my behavior.

    Like me, he was a witch, and even though he looked middle-aged, us witches could live for three hundred years. He¡¯d had me late in life. Even so, he could look forward to another hundred and fifty years¡ªunless the clan killed him for harboring a necromancer.

    My breath caught in my chest, and my attempt at a smile came out as a grimace. ¡°Hi, Dad.¡±

    ¡°Must¡¯ve been in a rush to see me if you used the dragon.¡± He closed the distance and wrapped me in a hug.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get the kids.¡± The stairs creaked under Mom¡¯s feet.

    Leaning back, he looked me over. ¡°Tears? What trouble have you gotten in this time?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a long story.¡±

    ¡°Tea or cocoa?¡±

    ¡°Cocoa.¡± I settled onto a stool at the bar.

    ¡°That kind of story, is it?¡± He filled the kettle and set it on the stove before getting out the chocolate and mugs.

    As easy as that, I fell into the ritual from my childhood. ¡°We last talked, Friday? So Monday, I mean, yesterday.¡± It felt like more than a day since this mess started. ¡°I met my new boss. He¡¯s a jerk, and thanks to him acting poorly during a training exercise, a suspended jerk.¡±

    Dad sent a sharp look in my direction. ¡°Acted poorly? What¡¯s that code for?¡±

    A small thunder of feet on stairs spared me from an immediate response. A thump was followed by a moment of silence. Then perked, tufted ears and bright eyes peered through the door. One look was all it took for the brown-coated lynx to bound over and plant her paws on my knees.

    ¡°Stacy, I can feel your claws.¡± Unlike Dad and me, the rest of the family were shifters. I¡¯d never been sure why Dad had married Lynn, as cross species matches like theirs weren¡¯t common, but I couldn¡¯t have asked for a better mom or more annoying siblings.

    Her claws pricked through my jeans before retracting. She dropped to the floor with a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

    Leaning down, I scratched behind her ears. Stacy leaned into my hand and purred. ¡°I don¡¯t know if we¡¯ll have time for a visit tonight. It¡¯s a school night, so it depends on when you get back from your run.¡±

    Drew strode into the room much like any cat, without acknowledgment of our presence but hoping that you¡¯d notice him. Like any older sister, I pointedly ignored him until he came over and bumped my leg with his head.

    ¡°Oh, hi. I didn¡¯t see you.¡± I reached down to pet him, ignoring the look that plainly conveyed his disbelief.

    A demanding cough from the door had Stacy and Drew moving away. Mom, in her red-brown lynx fur, flicked an ear toward the cat door. Stacy kept glancing back, but one by one, they all wiggled through and left me alone with dad. The only thing missing from all the times they¡¯d gone out during my childhood was Brent. At twenty-one, he was living on his own, trying to figure out how to adult. I sincerely hoped he did a better job than me.

    Dad set a steaming mug in front of me before dropping two marshmallows in with a flourish. He topped his own and settled onto a stool. ¡°I don¡¯t think you came here because of your boss, no matter how problematic he¡¯s been.¡±

    The mug was still too hot for it to be comfortable to hold, but I did it anyway, needing the warmth. ¡°Dad¡­¡± The words stuck in my throat. I couldn¡¯t look at him, see the horror, so I stared into my cocoa and forced the words out. ¡°I raised someone from the dead.¡±

    ¡°A person?¡±

    ¡°Human.¡±

    I still couldn¡¯t look at him. I shouldn¡¯t have even been telling him, but if I couldn¡¯t confide in my dad, then who could I tell? I didn¡¯t know of any other necromancers.

    His hand settled over mine, and he gently squeezed. ¡°I¡¯d hoped Bubble would be the end of it, but I think I always knew.¡±

    It took everything in me to meet his gaze and see his love. ¡°You won¡¯t report me?¡±

    ¡°No, I won¡¯t. You¡¯re my daughter, and I¡¯ll do everything I can to protect you.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t stop the tears this time. All the fear finally had somewhere to go. ¡°I don¡¯t even know how I did it.¡± I moved my hand out from under his to wipe my eyes.

    ¡°Likely instinct at this point.¡± He sipped the cocoa. ¡°We¡¯ll manage. I have a package for you, from your mother.¡±

    ¡°What does Mom have to do with it?¡± It felt strange to say ¡°mom¡± and mean someone other than Lynn. ¡°She¡¯s been dead since I was a baby.¡±

    ¡°Do you remember how I said she died?¡± he said, carefully devoid of emotion.

    I had a sinking feeling that I didn¡¯t want to know the truth. ¡°It was a magical accident. It¡¯s why you have to be careful with spells. When they go wrong, people can get hurt.¡± Those were the very words he¡¯d told me as a child.

    ¡°Kelsey, your mother was a necromancer, and the clan killed her.¡± Twenty-four years wasn¡¯t enough time to take the anger, pain, or fear out of his voice.

 Chapter 13

    The room went out of focus.

    My whole life, I¡¯d been told an accident had killed Monique. Not the clan. And not for necromancy. Now it made sense. Dad supporting me when I didn¡¯t want to join the clan business. The clan fighting so hard to keep me with them. Only one part didn¡¯t quite fit. ¡°Why didn¡¯t they kill me too?¡±

    Dad shifted his cup around on the counter. ¡°They didn¡¯t know. I didn¡¯t know for sure until you raised Bubble. Even then¡­ a goldfish is a small thing when you think about it. I¡¯d hoped that as long as your power had an outlet, you could contain it. It was easy enough to hide Bubble or to convince people he¡¯s a construct.¡±

    ¡°Is it inherited?¡± I couldn¡¯t bring myself to say the word. It felt like even speaking it would bring the clan to our door.

    ¡°No, necromancy requires a connection to the dead.¡± He motioned toward my leg. ¡°I thought it was a birth mark when you were young, but it¡¯s your connection, the bridge that allows you to raise them.¡±

    Rolling up my pants leg gave me time to think. As a child, I¡¯d accepted the two-inch-wide strip reaching from my ankle to knee on the outside of my left leg was a birthmark without question. It was only later I realized most people¡¯s birthmarks were nothing more than discoloration. ¡°Is that why I can¡¯t feel anything there?¡±

    ¡°Yes, the nerves are all but dead. Just enough function to keep the flesh alive. She must¡¯ve done it as soon as you were born, because I don¡¯t ever remember you being without that mark. Your mother¡¯s mark was on her shoulder, and she complained it made it hard to use her right arm normally.¡± He swirled his mug. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you remember, but when you were four, you sliced it open. It took weeks to heal properly. I was sure you¡¯d be discovered.¡±

    My fingers brushed across the line. That part of my leg felt colder than the rest. The spot seemed almost mocking. The mother I¡¯d never known had cursed me to a life of fear and likely an early death just so I would share her power. ¡°You didn¡¯t stop her.¡±

    ¡°I thought¡ª¡± He stopped and shook his head. ¡°We¡¯d discussed the matter. I was under the impression she wouldn¡¯t make you like her. Monique often said her mother had dammed her. I don¡¯t know why she did it.¡±

    She¡¯d made sure that the legacy had continued. I, for one, wished she¡¯d left me alone. What little I knew of the history of the women on her side was of my grandmother¡¯s early death. As a child, I¡¯d thought it odd and scary. Knowing what I did now, it terrified me to my bones. How long could I hide my necromancy now that I could raise humans? How could I have a normal life while always wondering if someone would figure out what I could do?

    Everyone feared or hated necromancers. There were tales of necromancers being able to raise armies, control the undead, and being impossible to kill. Long ago, they¡¯d changed the tide of wars, but that wasn¡¯t why they were killed now. The real problem was personal. No one wanted to see their loved one as a shambling nightmare. Even before the clans had started killing necromancers, they had short lives.

    Monique had passed her curse on to me. The only thing I could do was learn to control my power and never use it again.

    ¡°Can you teach me? Teach me how to keep it hidden? I don¡¯t want to die like she did.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t have your abilities. But a year after she died, a package showed up. It was addressed to you from her. Let me get it.¡±

    ¡°A grimoire?¡± I wasn¡¯t sure if I hoped he said yes or no. Witches were notorious of leaving traps and tricks in their spell books in case they fell into the wrong hands.

    ¡°We¡¯ll find out.¡± He forced a smile before heading into the living room.

    I trailed behind him, taking a moment to study the family picture in the short hall between the rooms. I¡¯d been about twelve, and all of us had stood stiffly, not yet sure what to think about our new family. The witches took notice, and not in a good way, as did other shifters.

    Next to it was a picture from shortly before I had gone to college. The smiles had come more easily, and we¡¯d looked like a unit. That was the picture I¡¯d made a copy of to take with me when I had moved out.

    Through the arched doorway, dad knelt by the fireplace in the living room. A flat-screen tv filled the space above the mantel. The rest of the room was dominated by the two couches on either side of the coffee table. Mom and Dad¡¯s recliners sat in the corner to my left. Over the years, Mom had rotated the knickknacks on the shelves flanking the fireplace, but a small poorly sculpted cat caught my eye. It hadn¡¯t been there last time I¡¯d visited, but that she still had it meant the world. I¡¯d given that to her as a wedding present. All these years later, with my fingerprints fired into the clay and not a hint of glaze anywhere on its body, the red-colored cat held a place of honor on the shelf.

    While I¡¯d been swept away by memories, Dad had moved firewood out of its cubby by the fireplace. He tugged his wand out of a wrist sheath and set about removing some of the bricks. A section about a foot square separated from the rest of the wall, and he floated it to rest against the fireplace. He touched his wand to the boards the bricks had hidden and whispered a spell. The boards split down the center and pulled to each side, revealing an aged cardboard box. Dad tugged it out and set it to the side while he put the wall back together.

    Faded handwritten letters spelled out my name and this address. Long ago, the top had been taped shut, but now it was folded, and the tape had darkened and peeled away from the box. I wrestled it open.

    Inside, an oversized letter addressed to my dad sat on top of a nondescript wood box. Age had given the box a dark, earthy tone. I couldn¡¯t bring myself to touch it, so I switched my vision to see magic. The box was clear of spells, and if magic lurked inside, it was too well shielded to show through.

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    Dad leaned over and gently picked up the letter with his name. He reached inside and tugged out a smaller envelope with my name in a delicate script. ¡°Maybe someday I¡¯ll share this, but some things should stay between husband and wife. Yours has the key.¡± He tilted the envelope so I could see the outline and then flipped it around so I could see the back. ¡°Unopened.¡±

    ¡°You think this will help?¡± My hand shook as I took the letter from him.

    ¡°Only one way to find out.¡± He lifted the wooden box out and set it on the rug. Other than a small keyhole in one side, it wasn¡¯t much to look at, which was all the better for hiding secrets in my view.

    Once I opened this, there was no going back.

    ¡°If you want to be alone, I understand.¡± He gave me a look filled with regret and sorrow. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t protect you better.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here. I¡¯m alive. That¡¯s an accomplishment. I¡¯m surprised they didn¡¯t kill you and me.¡± With the letter in my hand, my fear kicked up a notch. This is what had gotten my mother killed.

    Dad pressed his lips together. ¡°I owe you the whole story.¡±

    ¡°No lies.¡± After thinking one thing for my entire life I didn¡¯t want to spend another twenty-four years believing in a different lie.

    ¡°Before I married Monique, I was part of the Docga clan. I joined the Bausen when I married Monique. It wasn¡¯t until later I learned her mother had married into the clan, causing a ruckus.¡± He paused. Ruckus was likely an understatement. Witches were matriarchal. The men followed the women, with very few exceptions. ¡°I found out after we met that your grandmother had been killed by a clan member. I¡¯m not sure if it was widely known she was a necromancer. Monique waited to tell me of her legacy until she was pregnant with you. She swore she wasn¡¯t using her powers.¡± He blinked and pointedly focused on the far side of the room.

    ¡°The clan found out when you were just a baby.¡± He cleared his throat and looked at me with watery eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t think they understood the significance of the mark on your leg. I couldn¡¯t leave the clan, not without raising suspicions, and I prayed to the earth you wouldn¡¯t be a necromancer.¡±

    He held back the tears, but behind them I saw how much he loved me, how much he¡¯d sacrificed for me, and what he continued to risk for me. If only his sacrifices had been enough.

    ¡°But I am,¡± I said. ¡°And it isn¡¯t only me or you in danger, but Mom, Brent, Drew, and Stacy.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to keep all of you safe.¡±

    ¡°Dad.¡± When he looked at me, I took his hands in mine. ¡°I¡¯ll do everything I can to avoid notice. If the worst should happen¡­ they aren¡¯t witches, and that should help, but come what may, I¡¯ll protect them.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t ask that or expect it.¡± He pulled away, shaking his head. ¡°All of you are precious to me.¡±

    ¡°But only one of us is a necromancer.¡± I hurried to redirect the conversation. He¡¯d never had favorites between us kids, but I couldn¡¯t put my life above those of the rest of the family¡¯s. ¡°Maybe there¡¯s something in the grimoire. Maybe Monique did something wrong. How did she get caught?¡±

    He rebuilt himself, shoulders square, eyes dry. ¡°Getting caught¡ªthat was her fault, in part. Her friend¡¯s husband died a few days after you were born. Her friend couldn¡¯t get over the grief. It wasn¡¯t until the clan showed up at the house that I knew what she had done. One day when I was home with you, to give her some time alone, she took her friend and went to the grave. She raised him. After that, people noticed the change in her friend. One night after a few drinks, the friend let it slip. It didn¡¯t take the clan long to decide the consequences.¡±

    He sucked in a breath and pushed through the story. ¡°At the short trial, I learned this wasn¡¯t the first time. She¡¯d raised pets, children, spouses, or grandparents for nearly a third of the clan. I don¡¯t know how she got away with it for so long.¡±

    Deep inside, a rage built, replacing all the times I¡¯d wished I could know my mother, just for a day. Why would she risk her life, with a husband who loved her and a child to raise the dead? No amount of gratitude should¡¯ve been worth that.

    His voice was empty of any emotion when he continued. ¡°They killed her that night. I was spared because there wasn¡¯t any evidence that I knew of her activities. I even lied and said I didn¡¯t know she was a necromancer. They spared you as well. The witches who hid Monique¡¯s deeds were punished. Several ended up moving to different clans and the rest, well, their reputation in the clan hasn¡¯t recovered.¡±

    Near silence filled the gap between us. For me it would be days before I digested this, days I didn¡¯t have before going back to work and covering up what I¡¯d done. Maybe whatever Monique left would help, but considering the last two generations had completely failed to hide their abilities, I wasn¡¯t holding my breath.

    The clock on the mantel chimed as it ticked over to eight. Dad hardly moved.

    I pushed to my feet, feeling a hundred years older than I had this morning. Memories and emotions had weight no matter what anyone said, and they sat like lead in the box. ¡°They¡¯ll be home soon.¡±

    While I tucked the box and letter into my backpack, Dad reheated our hot chocolates. I called Tennessee Dragon Flight and arranged for Jolly to pick me up before joining Dad in the kitchen.

    I sipped the cocoa and studied my father. The slumped shoulders hid the strength in him. Not every dad would¡¯ve done so much to protect me. Not every dad would still protect me when it endangered the rest of the family. But I couldn¡¯t figure out how to tell him that, so I went with the next best thing. ¡°I love you.¡±

    Dad pushed off his stool and wrapped me in a hug. ¡°I love you so much. We¡¯ll figure this out. There has to be a way.¡±

    ¡°If there is, I¡¯ll find it.¡± Outside, a red light flashed, showing the outline of an amber dragon. ¡°I¡¯ll come visit the next weekend if I¡¯m not on call.¡± Staying away might be safer for them, but they were my family, and I wouldn¡¯t hurt them that way unless I had to.

    ¡°Text me when you get home.¡±

    ¡°I will.¡± I hugged him one more time, perhaps too tightly, and headed out the door.

    Riding a dragon at night was a completely different experience. Under better circumstances, the distance from everyone else, combined with the cool wind and steady movement of Jolly, would¡¯ve felt like an entirely different world than the one with all my problems. Of course, that would require my problems being something outside of me.

    Jolly landed at the field with hardly a bump. I thanked Jolly and hurried over to the waiting cab. This late, the roads were empty, and the trip home went by in a snap. I got out of the cab, eyeing an unfamiliar car with local plates, and headed inside.

    My feet felt ten times their normal weight as I slowly climbed the stairs to my apartment. Keys in hand, I plodded onto the last landing before my level. Two steps further, I realized the shadows were all wrong.

    I jerked my head up and reached for my wand. My fingers had brushed the wood by the time my brain recognized the figure. A pretty figure at that, at six feet tall, with his blond hair long enough to give the casually windswept look.

    ¡°Kelsey.¡± His smile warmed, and he pushed away from my door.

    ¡°Jamie.¡± I didn¡¯t return his smile. My high school love showing up unannounced couldn¡¯t be a coincidence, not today. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting you.¡±

    Jamie lowered his gaze. When he looked up, the smile was gone. ¡°The clan sent me.¡±

 Chapter 14

    It was a solid three seconds before I remembered to breathe. Trying to act unconcerned, I resumed my trek up the stairs and unlocked my apartment. ¡°I¡¯m not causing problems.¡± That they knew about.

    I left the door open, not precisely inviting him in. He lingered in the doorway.

    Reason caught up with me. Had this been about raising Jameson, they wouldn¡¯t have sent him alone. I casually set my backpack, with the box from Monique inside, by the dining room table. Leaning against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest, I studied him.

    His smile could still charm the hardest hearts, and mine wasn¡¯t immune. Six years wasn¡¯t enough time to erase summer days splashing in the river or the hot nights before I went to college.

    Years ago, I¡¯d known his every thought from a quirk of a brow to the flash in his eyes. Not anymore. This face hid thoughts behind empty smiles and emotions that never truly reached his eyes.

    ¡°This will only take a minute. Can I come in?¡±

    I shrugged.

    He closed the door before turning to face me. ¡°The clan asked me to check in. They noticed you used the flight service.¡±

    ¡°As a clan member in good standing, I am allowed.¡± Minister Olivia Crowder, the witch in charge of the clan, wasn¡¯t fond of me or anyone who refused to go into the family business, but that didn¡¯t change my standing.

    ¡°Yes.¡± He bowed his head. ¡°However, you haven¡¯t used the service in over two years.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see how that¡¯s relevant.¡±

    ¡°Kelsey¡­¡± His shoulders tightened, and he rocked back on his heels. ¡°They told me to check on you, so here I am. Olivia didn¡¯t say it outright, but she wants you back.¡±

    ¡°And she thought you were the one to lure me? You broke up with me.¡± During my second semester of college, right after Jamie had dumped me, Olivia had forbidden Mom and Dad from sending me money. The clan knew how to educate witches, but their personnel policies could use some updates.

    ¡°You know how they are. I didn¡¯t have a choice.¡± He shoved his hands in his pockets. ¡°I told Olivia I was the wrong one, but she insisted.¡±

    ¡°Over using the dragon service? That doesn¡¯t even make sense.¡± Olivia was crazy, but I¡¯d never seen her act without logic to her brand of crazy.

    ¡°I was told to inquire why you felt the need to take a flight to visit your family for a couple of hours when it¡¯s only a forty-minute drive.¡± He bit the words out as if they hurt to say.

    ¡°Because I had a hell of a day, didn¡¯t feel up to driving, and wanted to get a hug from my parents.¡± That was a truth the clan could check.

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    To give myself time to think, which I was too tired to do quickly, I pulled out a chair and sat down. Truth, but just the right amount, should give him reason to leave. ¡°When you broke up with me you lost the position of chief confidant.¡±

    He drew himself up. ¡°That didn¡¯t mean I stopped caring.¡±

    ¡°Six years too late, Jamie.¡± And a small lifetime of different experiences. ¡°If there¡¯s nothing else, you should go. I have to get up early for work.¡±

    He looked hurt but still opened the door. ¡°I¡¯m on your side.¡±

    I followed him to the door. ¡°Good night, Jamie.¡±

    ¡°Sleep well, Kelsey.¡± The look he gave me before he left was one of longing.

    It didn¡¯t stop me from shutting the door and locking it behind him. Through the wood, I could make out the steps creaking as he left.

    I shoved the package from Monique¡ªshe¡¯s never been my mom¡ªin a hidden compartment in the antique apothecary¡¯s cabinet taking up one wall of my living room. Lynn had found it for me when I was in high school, and since then, it had been the home of all my supplies and a few secrets.

    The compartment shut with a snap. If only it were that easy to forget the past.

    Four years of my life. That¡¯s how long I had wholeheartedly believed we¡¯d get married, with the clan¡¯s blessing. Six years without him, and living through the clan-enforced hardships, had changed me. I wasn¡¯t seventeen and madly in love with the one boy who had looked at me and smiled back.

    ***

    Morning didn¡¯t bring peace, but it did bring distance. Jameson was dead, really dead. I hadn¡¯t killed him. I had unkilled and rekilled him because I had lost control of my necromancy. Better control would make sure I didn¡¯t accidentally raise anyone else. The clan had checked up because of the dragon flights, not my necromancy.

    Perspective, and sleep, were good things.

    At breakfast, the pile of unsorted mail served as a reminder that I wasn¡¯t adulting well at the moment. Tonight I¡¯d have to make time to pay bills. Oh, goody.

    In a surprising turn of luck, the drive to work was nice, parking was easy, and no one said anything about Floyd or Jameson on my way through the building. The luck lasted all the way to my desk, where I found a note saying the medical examiner wanted to see me.

    A chill crept over me. Could the medical examiner have found evidence that Jameson had been undead?

    I carefully set the note in a drawer. That couldn¡¯t be it. Officially, necromancers were extinct.

    After convincing myself it was perfectly normal for the medical examiner to talk to a witch when magic was involved with several murders, I grabbed the key to a department vehicle and headed out.

    The drive went too quickly, and before I knew it, I was parked and walking into a nondescript building with stucco walls. Through the opaque glass doors, I found a small reception area with the secretary sending annoyed looks at the medical examiner leaning against her desk. It was the same elf I¡¯d seen entering CJ¡¯s Machine Shop while I was leaving.

    He pushed away from the front desk and smiled at me. His silver hair was pulled back at the temples, leaving his pointed ears bare. ¡°Agent Pine, I¡¯m glad you could make it.¡± He held out his hand.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you properly.¡± His hand was warm against mine and his grip polite rather than testing. A nice change after my interactions with Floyd.

    ¡°Call me Nash.¡± He motioned down the hall. ¡°My office is this way.¡± Nash set an easy pace.

    ¡°Did you get my report? Agent Smith assured me it would be sent to you immediately.¡± I looked at him out of the corner of my eye.

    ¡°Yes, but I¡¯d like to go over a few details.¡± He guided me to the right when the hall split. ¡°It can be tricky to put your analysis and mine together through reports. Magic isn¡¯t so easily translated.¡±

    If those words had been intended to relax me, it didn¡¯t work. If he knew about magic, he might be able to figure out magic had played a part in Jameson¡¯s death and would ask questions I couldn¡¯t easily answer.

    ¡°Here we are.¡± He pushed open a door to a small but tidy office with a suspiciously clean desk taking up most of the space. I couldn¡¯t remember the last time I¡¯d cleared my desk enough to see two square feet of the top. ¡°Same side would be easier.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Nash jerked his head up, a touch of pink staining the tips of his ears. ¡°Sorry, thinking out loud. It will be easier to review the diagrams if we¡¯re sitting on the same side of the desk.¡±

    ¡°Oh, sure.¡± I took the one seat on this side and waited for him to figure everything else out.

    He tugged a file out of a pile on a shelf beside his desk and rolled his chair next to mine. He started to open the file and paused. ¡°The remains from CJ¡¯s Machine Shop. Will it bother you to review the evidence? Several officers had trouble, as did one of my assistants.¡±

    Relief that this wasn¡¯t about Jameson waged a short war with surprise. I buried the relief, which would seem out of place. My eyebrows crept up. ¡°One of your assistants? Never mind, none of my business.¡± Everyone had things they were sensitive to, often for personal reasons. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Nash fiddled with the edge of the folder. ¡°We don¡¯t normally see things like this.¡±

    ¡°I spent a lot of time with werelynxes growing up. Cats aren¡¯t dainty about their meals and have an odd sense of gifts.¡± Like the time Drew had hid an eviscerated and partly-skinned rabbit in my bed. The next night, I had made sure his covers wound about him like a snake and hissed. We¡¯d both ended up grounded.

    He moved his hand on top of the file, as if that could keep the horrors hidden. ¡°He was alive for most of the injuries.¡±

    My stomach clenched. ¡°I hadn¡¯t realized.¡± If I¡¯d known for sure about the pain and suffering the man had endured, I would¡¯ve had a harder time at the crime scene.

    ¡°Are you sure you can do this?¡± Nash asked gently.

    I tugged the file out from under his hand and flipped it open. ¡°This victim deserves justice.¡± Inside on the left was a diagram of a humanoid body with notations around it and on the right was a page covered in text. Alive, bites, and skinned leapt out at me.

    Nash flipped through the diagrams before he found one he liked. ¡°The overview is too crowded. This shows the head and neck. I isolated tooth and knife impressions from the neck. The knife had a smooth blade and was between four and eight inches long. The teeth marks match those of a partly-shifted werewolf. Due to the purification ritual, I had little success isolating chemicals or other trace evidence,¡± he finished without accusation.

    ¡°It couldn¡¯t be helped.¡± I wouldn¡¯t apologize for preventing the spread of blood magic.

    He shrugged. ¡°Every case has challenges. What I need is a clearer picture of the magic and how it interacts with my findings.¡±

    ¡°The report is detailed.¡± All of mine had to be because people had a lot of misconceptions about magic. ¡°I don¡¯t know what else I can tell you.¡±

    ¡°Indulge me.¡± He tapped the folder. ¡°This person deserves our time.¡±

    ¡°That he does, but I can¡¯t tell you what I don¡¯t know.¡± Either he hadn¡¯t read the report, or he thought I was holding out. As far as this case was concerned, he was wrong.

    Nash leaned back and folded his arms across his chest while he assessed me. ¡°You don¡¯t draw any conclusions. Why was the blood magic centered around the body? You didn¡¯t find it in other places.¡±

    Even though it was in the report, I went through it again. This time I used small words so he would understand. ¡°Some of the spell fragments had elements of stimulant spells, likely intended to stimulate a person. Since the blood magic was concentrated around the remains, either someone purposely intended to siphon magic from the body but didn¡¯t absorb all of it, or the stimulant spell interacted with the blood and resulted in blood magic.¡±

    Nash¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°That¡¯s the part I don¡¯t understand. How could blood and magic mixing result in blood magic? Isn¡¯t there ritual, ceremony, and intent behind it?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t made a study of blood magic,¡± I said sharply. ¡°I¡¯ve powered spells with my own blood, which isn¡¯t the same.¡±

    ¡°My apologies.¡± Nash rubbed his temple. ¡°No insult intended.¡±

    ¡°Only a little taken.¡± I took pity on him. Elves had their own abilities, but active magic wasn¡¯t one of them. ¡°From what I understand, the pain and suffering must be intentional, and the person drawing in the magic must derive some satisfaction from the suffering.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re all sadists who profit by gaining magic?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s one way of looking at it.¡± Though not one my childhood teachers had promoted. Their stories had centered on all the reasons we should never ever be tempted to use blood magic. ¡°Witches stay away from blood magic. It can corrupt a witch¡¯s power, and corrupt their morals and ethics in the process. Blood magic wants to be used, and it wants to be fed with more pain and death.¡±

    ¡°Hedge-practitioners, who are usually human, are the most common blood magic users, correct?¡±

    I nodded. The theory was many of them were tempted by powers they didn¡¯t have and resorted to blood magic to increase their abilities. It also reduced their life expectancies. Not many magic users were hated more than necromancers, but blood magic users qualified. ¡°Humans, hedge-practitioners or not, or other species who want power. It¡¯s easier for them to hide. Witches can see and feel the corruption. As close as clans are, one of us couldn¡¯t hide something like that.¡±

    ¡°Right, so not likely to be a witch.¡± Nash dragged his fingers on the desk as he stared past me, lost in thought.

    Thinking back to how the magic felt, I added, ¡°Before you go too far down that path, I¡¯m not sure we¡¯re looking at intentional blood magic. The area was coated, so whoever created it didn¡¯t absorb much. If you¡¯d asked me before I saw that scene, I would¡¯ve said it was impossible to accidentally make blood magic, but now I¡¯m not so sure. The spells were broken and twisted, and there was so much blood.¡±

    Nash took the folder and flipped to another page, this one outlining everything that had happened to the body in a simple list. ¡°Then why skin the body?¡±

    ¡°To obscure the bite marks?¡± I mused. ¡°I know teeth can leave impressions on bone, but not everyone grew up with werelynxes.¡±

    He tipped his head to the side. ¡°They cut around several areas where I could see imprints of teeth deeper in the tissue. It¡¯s possible, but that leaves the question of who did the biting and who did the cover-up.¡±

    ¡°A werewolf with regrets or a fey missing a chunk of leg? Do you know the species of the body?¡± It hadn¡¯t looked fey, but there¡¯d been enough damage it was hard to say for sure.

    ¡°Werewolf. We have blood from three people. One werewolf victim, one who attacked the other, and a chunk of flesh at the scene also indicates a fey was involved.¡±

    ¡°Syed.¡± Werewolves could live through things a human couldn¡¯t. How he must¡¯ve suffered.

    ¡°I hope whoever killed him ends up at Syed¡¯s mercy.¡± He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ¡°It was the blood loss, not the injuries to the neck and face, you know.¡±

    Syed wasn¡¯t known for her mercy, though it seemed like a fitting punishment considering the crime. ¡°We¡¯ll find them.¡± I left off the part about how many more mutilated bodies we¡¯d both see. I didn¡¯t think this was the last, and I doubted Nash was so naive.

    ¡°Try to leave a little more evidence behind next time, will you?¡± He stood up.

    ¡°No promises. Blood magic can¡¯t be allowed to contaminate anything.¡± He hadn¡¯t grown up hearing those stories. As fast as clans killed necromancers, they killed blood magic practitioners even faster. A clan had to have its standards.

    ¡°I¡¯ll make you a deal.¡± His words stopped me on my way to the door.

    I turned back with my best blank police face. Men wanting something from me, be it a deal or a training run, hadn¡¯t gone so well lately.

    ¡°You let me look at things before you remove the blood magic, help me understand the magic in context, and we won¡¯t have any more of these meetings.¡± He held out his hand.

    ¡°Done.¡± I ignored his satisfied smile and shook his hand. ¡°Next time, don¡¯t take so long to get there.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± Nash opened the door for me. ¡°I¡¯ll see you out.¡±

    The walk back to the front door seemed to take more time. Maybe with the meeting out of the way I actually noticed the trip, or maybe it was the way he kept glancing at me.

    We passed the front desk, and I couldn¡¯t take it any longer. ¡°Is there a problem?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± He stopped next to the door, a sunbeam gleaming off his silver hair. Nash smiled slowly, and forest green darkened the outer ring of his irises. ¡°You do good work, Pine.¡±

    ¡°And here I thought you didn¡¯t appreciate my work.¡± I shoved the door open and marched out, ignoring his chuckle.

 Chapter 15

    The rest of the day passed in a blur of paperwork. Jameson¡¯s death merited a pile of it that took up most of my day. I considered it penance for not being able to save him, and for raising him. The bright spot in my day was seeing neither hide nor hair of Floyd.

    Back at home, bills, mail, and Monique¡¯s legacy awaited me. I¡¯d only just walked inside when Bubble swam over to the side of the tank closest to me and swished its tail.

    I went over to the tank. ¡°Lonely day?¡±

    The cold knot of power relaxed inside me, and I touched my finger to the glass. Flakes of necromancy magic drifted into the water. Bubble swished its tail again before chasing after a bit of magic.

    Not comfortable putting it off any longer, I retrieved the box and letter Monique had left me. Maybe there was some hint of how to get rid of this power.

    The letter opened easily; age hadn¡¯t been kind to the adhesive. Inside, I found a single folded sheet of paper and a brass key. My hands shook as I unfolded it.

    Kelsey,

    In the event that I cannot be with you to guide you into adulthood, I hope these things will help you.

    Mom

    That was it? That was all she could think to write in case necromancy caused her death? Even after she all but doomed me to the same fate?

    I let the letter fall to the floor. If she¡¯d really loved me, she wouldn¡¯t have risked her life or mine.

    Hopefully the box would be more helpful. It took some doing, but I wiggled it out of the cardboard. Taking a deep breath, I inserted the key and turned it. The lock clicked.

    If there were any spells, I couldn¡¯t see or feel them. The outside of the box didn¡¯t have any visible hinge, so I grabbed it from both sides and lifted. It slid off, revealing a cloth-lined interior, black (of course, what other color would a family of necromancers use?), and a leather-bound book. Embossed in gold was a single rune: Deyr.

    Death.

    I studied the book, the way flecks of gold had worn off the embossing, cracks in the leather, and little lines of wear around the spine for what seemed like hours. As disappointing as Monique¡¯s letter had been, I had a feeling this would have answers, just not the ones I wanted.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The book came out of the box easily enough. The leather was cool to the touch. Inside me, the cold magic of necromancy curled up toward my finger. I choked it out before it could escape my skin. It settled down, but I could feel it lurking.

    Pointedly ignoring my necromancy, I flipped open the book. Any hope I¡¯d had for a more personal letter from Monique was dashed by a title page written in an elegant script.

    Deyr: The study and secrets of the dying, death, and undeath

    By Kelsey Nekro

    A cold shiver crept down my spine. That was my name. My first name listed with a clan name that had died with its members hundreds of years ago. Or so I¡¯d been taught. Every one of them executed for necromancy.

    A group of witches with representatives from every clan had been tasked with carrying out the executions by the Premier of Europe. My history teacher had said the witches were given a choice: kill the Nekro or have all the races go to war against all witches. For the witches, the choice had been simple enough.

    I¡¯d been taught that the isolated cases of necromancy which showed up from time to time were the result of individuals finding grimoires that had managed to escape the purge.

    My name on this book¡­ that was different. Grimoires had certainly escaped, and not just in far flung libraries to be discovered years later. This grimoire proved witches who traced their power back to the Nekro had escaped the executions and done their best to hide in other clans.

    I turned the page. My eyes skimmed across the lines of runes before returning to the top. The first words hearkened back to some of my earliest lessons.

    When you honor life, when you honor the Earth, do not forget death¡¯s place in the cycle. Just as the Earth greets you, it will welcome your cold body. A body that will soon feel the caress of cold earth if you are not of the Nekro. Your magic will twist inside you, burning you from the inside, for the secrets in here are only intended for Nekro eyes.

    Both of my magics twisted inside me, rising up.

    My eyes refused to move off the page, continuing to read rune after rune. This page was a spell, one that was activated simply by reading it, something I¡¯d heard of in theory but not experienced.

    Burn, burn as you burned the Nekro. Burn for the betrayal of your own. Burn unless you have been touched by death.

    Starting at my toes, my magic burned through me, lighting my nerves on fire. All of my nerves but the ones in the side of my left leg. The necromancy followed behind, replacing the unbearable heat with ice. If I could¡¯ve opened my mouth, I would¡¯ve screamed.

    As you burn, rise. Rise and unleash the fire.

    I didn¡¯t know if it was good or bad, but I didn¡¯t¡ªcouldn¡¯t stand. My magic had worked its way up to my chest, and every breath brought with it a searing pain of flames going down my throat and into my lungs.

    My necromancy charged after my magic, replacing the fire with ice that burned in its own way.

    One coherent thought broke through the pain. A mother who truly loved me would¡¯ve left a warning.

    The cold reached my lungs, then my throat. If I made it through this, I wasn¡¯t sure which was worse to breathe, fire or ice.

    And take our secrets to the grave.

    The flames reached my head, and if my eyes continued to read the spell, I had no idea what it said. Ice crept into the base of my skull, adding an entirely new level of pain that I¡¯d never imagined. My brain became a battlefield, a warring line between two extremes, and I no longer had it in me to care which won. The fire was killing me, and if it didn¡¯t, then the ice would finish the job.

    Monique hadn¡¯t left me a grimoire, she¡¯d cursed me and dammed me to this torment. That b¡ª

 Chapter 16

    Alive was good. Far better than I¡¯d thought two hours ago.

    Alive would¡¯ve been better if a hundred dwarves weren¡¯t indulging in a cheerful jig in my skull.

    I shoved the box, letter from Monique, and book back in their hiding spot and got the microwave going on dinner. Leaning against the counter and rubbing my aching head, I wished I was brave enough to use a charm for the headache.

    Better judgment insisted I skip the charm. The excitement with the Deyr had left me magic-blind. Right now, I couldn¡¯t feel either source of power, and if my head had hurt less, that would have probably concerned me more.

    The microwave beeped. Maybe after food I¡¯d find it in me to worry about the lack of magic. While eating dinner, I wasted a few choice words on my long-dead mother, and I briefly considered raising her just to tell her how terrible of a job she¡¯d done. Too bad she¡¯d been cremated.

    By the time I had finished eating, the throbbing had abated enough that I could still feel both pools of magic and enjoy some entertainment. I turned on a documentary about magical plants while I sorted the mail.

    Three junk letters and two bills later, I saw it. A square envelope rather than a rectangular one, no return information, and my address printed on a label.

    This was the last thing my night needed. Another letter from him.

    Bracing myself, I peeled it open. Sunflowers bordered the stationary, just like they had in every letter.

    It began as they always did.

    Hello, Beautiful.

    Time, and the experience of opening these Narzel-blasted letters for six years, had dampened the revulsion, but I hoped to never hear a man call me beautiful.

    Congratulations on making Special Agent. You deserve it, but don¡¯t let them work you too hard. You¡¯ve been looking tired lately. Take some time and pamper yourself. You can¡¯t be at your best when you¡¯re tired.

    Yours Truly

    Like usual, it lacked a name. That had bothered me for the first year, but now what bothered me were the details. The TBI didn¡¯t publish their agent¡¯s names or make announcements when someone moved from trainee to agent. How had my stalker gotten this information? One of these days, he¡¯d make a mistake, but not today.

    For the first year, I¡¯d dutifully reported the letters. The police had figured out he had used a variety of common printers and that he¡¯d posted the letters from all over Nashville. Helpfully enough, my stalker hadn¡¯t left any saliva or fingerprints behind. I¡¯d checked for magic, and they hadn¡¯t had that either.

    P.S. Fabian¡¯s steering wheel cover is starting to show its age.

    Great. I¡¯d be getting a package soon. It could go in the box with the other stuff he¡¯d sent that I wasn¡¯t willing to use.

    I tossed the letter back onto the coffee table and turned down the volume on the TV. The headache, which I blamed on Monique, hadn¡¯t gone away. Slumping against the couch, I flipped through the channels, looking for something happy.

    I had 99 problems, and my stalker was 98.

    ***

    ¡°Pine, it¡¯s Agent Mitchell. I¡¯ve got another case that needs your attention.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s four in the morning,¡± I groaned. At least I¡¯d slept long enough for the headache to go away, and both pools of magic were back. ¡°Whose bad side did you end up on to get stuck with endless night shifts?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re funny.¡± Fatigue laced her voice. ¡°I¡¯m looking at a deer, or what¡¯s left of one, that bears a striking resemblance to the body we looked at two days ago.¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Narzel¡­¡± I scrambled out of bed. ¡°Send me the address. I¡¯ll be there as soon as I can, and I¡¯m sorry about the night shift joke. Forgot you¡¯re a dark elf.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, and don¡¯t worry about it.¡± She hung up.

    A moment later, my phone dinged with an address not far from my place, along the lake in Long Hunter State Park. The mile marker that came with the address wasn¡¯t encouraging.

    By the time the tea brewed, I was dressed and holding a protein bar that would have to count for breakfast. Fabian grumbled a bit at the hour, but I could hardly blame him. The engine, and therefore the heat, barely had time to warm up before we crossed the bridge and the flashing lights caught my attention. I parked with other police cars in a gravel lot.

    With Mitchell¡¯s words still ringing in my ears, I took the time to grab the purification kit and settle it around my waist. I closed Fabian¡¯s trunk and took a deep breath of clean evening air: pine, water, and a touch of death.

    I hadn¡¯t even crossed the police line when I spotted the deer. It wasn¡¯t a great feat on my part. Portable lights shone on the carcass like mini suns. Thanks to my family, I¡¯d seen half-eaten animals in daylight. Night didn¡¯t do this creature any favors, with hard shadows giving the scene a grimmer cast.

    That was me, the mighty necromancer who looked at deer remains and saw spooky. The clan really had something to fear.

    ¡°Pine, what do you make of it?¡± Agent Mitchell broke away from the group studying the remains from a respectable distance. Even night couldn¡¯t hide the fatigue lines etched into her face.

    It took a moment to adjust my shields. They went from blocking out everything to letting me sense magic through them. The deer was awash with magic. Not just any magic, but blood magic. ¡°It¡¯s like before.¡±

    Mitchell swore and rocked back on her heels. ¡°That¡¯s not good.¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡± I gave the deer and surrounding grass, which was speckled with bits of magic and likely the blood carrying it, a critical assessment. ¡°Move everyone back a few more feet. The magic spread a bit.¡±

    She shouted over her shoulder. Everyone retreated twice as far as they had to. ¡°What else can you tell me? And can you flag the danger zone?¡±

    ¡°Yes to the second, and not much to the first. It looks like the same magic as from the previous scene, and I promised the medical examiner I wouldn¡¯t destroy it until he got here.¡± I met her puzzled look with my own dry interpretation. ¡°Apparently, he wants a better idea of how the blood magic, and its removal, affected the remains.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Well, in that case, I¡¯ll keep everyone out of the way while you flag it, and then we can enjoy this balmy early morning together.¡± Her smile was on the toothy side.

    ¡°Can¡¯t wait.¡± The breeze picked up across the water and found a sliver of exposed skin on my neck. A chill raced down my spine. Biting back unprofessional words, I adjusted my scarf. ¡°I¡¯ll get those flags.¡±

    It didn¡¯t take that long to mark off the area. I found a three-foot-wide path that could fit two people examining the deer and marked it before doing a circle around the rest of the blood magic. Then I joined Mitchell and two locals as we shivered and waited for Nash.

    ¡°I promise I called him and forensics,¡± Mitchell grumbled.

    I stuck my gloved hands up close to my armpits. As much as I wanted to complain, he had to get the van from work before he could come out to the scene. That added time to his commute. Frankly, I was lucky to have gotten around that, but there were several medical examiners and only one police witch. I¡¯d used that to my advantage to supply two kits, one for my work car and one for personal, as well as permission to take off-hour calls in my car, specifically ones where the scene was secure.

    This was secure, but for the ten cars there were only five of us out here, one standing next to the ¡°do not cross¡± line and four of us huddled together shivering. ¡°Where are the rest of the officers?¡±

    Mitchell jerked her chin toward a set of wobbling lights in the distance that I¡¯d figured were out on the water. ¡°Looking for other deer. I thought about how much damage was done to the body and figured there could be more than one kill. This one was visible from the road, called in a few hours ago by a concerned citizen on their way home from working swing shift.¡±

    ¡°Any dogs out?¡± They wouldn¡¯t be trained for something like this, but I hadn¡¯t met a dog that wouldn¡¯t run to deer remains.

    ¡°No.¡± An officer with a City of Nashville badge piped up. ¡°Only one on duty is working a drug case on the other side of town. We¡¯re on their list, but I¡¯m not holding my breath.¡±

    I nodded. ¡°After I help Nash with this scene here, I¡¯ll look too.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Mitchell blew on her hands. ¡°Later, I¡¯d like you to come with me for an interview.¡±

    My pulse picked up. ¡°What?¡± It took a minute for my tired brain to figure out she wanted me to go with her, not to interview me. ¡°I mean, who?¡±

    If she noticed my momentary panic, she didn¡¯t mention it. ¡°Alpha of the local wolves. Yesterday, I called to inquire about a missing werewolf and was told they didn¡¯t have any missing wolves.¡± She quirked an eyebrow.

    ¡°Are they hiding a wolf?¡± That didn¡¯t make much sense. They¡¯d have to know we wouldn¡¯t stop looking simply because they said the wolf wasn¡¯t one of theirs.

    ¡°Neither. Turns out the owner of the shop, CJ, is a lone wolf. They¡¯ve been trying to get him to join for two years, but he likes being a lone wolf.¡± Mitchell gave me a look. ¡°I want you in case they¡¯ve gotten hold of some blood magic.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to the office after this. Give me a call when you¡¯re ready.¡± I¡¯d have another report to write, the fun part of my job that never made it onto the TV shows.

    Headlights cut across our group. The van settled in next to a car, and the shiny letters on the side caught the light, spelling out Medical Examiner. Time to get to work.

    Nash got out of the van. As much as I enjoyed looking at him, elves set unrealistic standards for the rest of us. The four of us humanoids looked like we needed a good night¡¯s rest, concealer for the bags under our eyes, and fillers for the lines. His Elfness appeared fresh as a dew-kissed flower, not a line or dark circle daring to mar his face, hair pulled back in three French braids. Each of those would¡¯ve taken me near an hour to get right and wouldn¡¯t have looked half as tidy.

    I started his way as he suited up in coveralls. ¡°You made it.¡±

    ¡°Hope you weren¡¯t waiting too long.¡± He flashed a cheerful grin. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a beautiful morning. I can feel it.¡±

    I asked the earth for patience before I opened my mouth. ¡°It¡¯s a crime scene, Nash.¡±

 Chapter 17

    His grin faded. ¡°Yes, of an animal corrupted with blood magic. An atrocity we are here to investigate so we can catch the person or creature with such disdain for life and foul practices. I am aware of the job.¡±

    ¡°Most people don¡¯t seem so cheerful at crime scenes.¡± It wasn¡¯t an apology, but it would have to do.

    ¡°This is a beautiful sunrise. I¡¯ll not let a monster steal my joy in the earth and sun celebrating a new day.¡± He snatched a case out of the van and shut the door harder than necessary.

    Elves.

    I turned and marched toward the carcass. No matter how beautiful the sunrise, in this space, there was less joy. Blood magic was evil, and its type of evil liked to spread.

    People had been saying similar things about necromancers. Now wasn¡¯t that a comforting thought?

    ¡°Thank you for marking safe passage.¡± Nash came up beside me and studied the flags. ¡°How high off the ground and the remains does the magic extend?¡±

    I pulled my thoughts back to the current problem, ignoring the pool of cold power in me. ¡°Not far. Stay a couple of inches away and you should be fine.¡±

    Nash carefully followed the path and crouched a foot from the dead deer. ¡°I¡¯m not seeing any knife marks. The teeth impressions are similar, can¡¯t say if it¡¯s the same werewolf or not. The deer though, a good portion of the meat is gone. Unlike last time, this does look like a meal for a hungry carnivore. A doe this size has about forty pounds of what humans consider meat, more for a werewolf.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡± Mitchell finished adding the information to her notepad.

    Since this was way out of my area, I waited for the doctor to come to something that needed my help.

    ¡°What kind of magic are you finding?¡± Nash asked.

    Wishing there was a less dangerous way to verify what my eyes were telling me, I extended a delicate probe over the deer. As before, I found spell fragments. They were a bit more intact. ¡°A type of stimulant for the body. It¡¯s a harsh spell, but I still can¡¯t tell what it¡¯s stimulating.¡±

    Nash backed away from the deer. ¡°Can you purify it? I want to feel how it changes.¡±

    I started walking in a circle around the deer, dropping a line of salt and herbs. ¡°Watch your eyes. The humans at the last scene could see the magic.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    With the circle closed, I levitated the rune-embroidered cloth into the center and started the spell. It wasn¡¯t as corrupted as last time, so it didn¡¯t take as much power. The magic started dark before glowing gold. I closed the spell and carefully tucked the cloth back into its bag.

    ¡°Not enough of a warning, Pine.¡± Nash glared in my general direction in between rubbing his eyes. Behind him, another set of headlights moved across the group as the forensics van parked.

    ¡°How was I supposed to know how bright it would look to an elf? I have witch eyes!¡±

    Nash glared at me again before stomping over to the deer. This time, he rested a gloved finger against an intact part of the hide. Seconds ticked by. He lifted his hand away from the deer. ¡°I¡¯ll need the lab to confirm, but it seems like it stimulated the adrenal system, even after the deer died.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not supposed to happen, right?¡± Dead was dead. Unless I¡¯d had another necromancy accident.

    ¡°Body systems can keep working for a short while, but not usually to this extent.¡± Nash waved over the waiting crime techs. ¡°I¡¯ll be ordering more tests on the previous victim.¡±

    ¡°I want to know as soon as you get official results.¡± Mitchell eyed the body. ¡°First a humanoid and now a deer. Werewolf or big canine?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll run some tests.¡± He frowned at her. ¡°Evidence from the first body was werewolf.¡±

    Mitchell¡¯s phone rang. She answered and then pivoted until she was looking roughly north. ¡°Be there soon.¡± She hung up and pointed at Nash and me. ¡°You two, come. We¡¯ve got another deer three-quarters of a mile that way.¡±

    Predawn had lightened the night sky. Between us and the direction Mitchell indicated, the lake curved, and a thick strip of trees blocked us from seeing shore. Before leaving, I ran a critical eye over the group. No one had any blood magic clinging to them. Good, the procedures were working.

    Mitchell and Nash were ahead of me, but a short jog closed the distance. I unsheathed my wand before we got to the woods, where it would be easier to ambush us. Call it self-preservation or paranoia, but I didn¡¯t want to be on the menu for hungry blood magic or a hungry werewolf.

    We made it through the woods and to what passed for a beach without incident. The two officers were standing well back from the carcass, probably because this one smelled more than the last one. Or it smelled different, more putrid and less bloody.

    ¡°Do you want to look at it before I purify the area?¡± The officers were contaminated, as was a sizable area around the deer. Likely the blood had splattered more, as this kill wasn¡¯t as tidy.

    Nash shrugged. ¡°I think I got what I needed.¡±

    ¡°Mitchell?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Do what you need to do.¡± Fatigue laced her voice.

    ¡°Got it.¡± That was all I needed. The officers were more than happy to cooperate, and I had them and the contaminated areas surrounded by salt in no time. ¡°Watch your eyes, Nash.¡±

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°I¡¯m not an idiot, Pine.¡±

    Smiling slightly, I started the purification. It took more magic than the last one, but it was a larger and more heavily contaminated area, so that was to be expected. By the time I closed the spell, I was ready for a big breakfast and rest before I had to cast again. Purification spells were power-hungry, and last night hadn¡¯t done my reserves any favors.

    ¡°All clear.¡± I gave the officers a reassuring smile. ¡°No more blood magic.¡±

    While they thanked me, Nash examined the remains. He was still squinting at the deer¡¯s neck when Mitchell rescued me from the officers. I half-listened to her questioning them about the find and half-watched Nash. Other than being concerned about the werewolf coming back, they hadn¡¯t seen anything but the mangled deer, which Nash was finding worth extensive study.

    Mitchell had the officers setting up a perimeter when Nash stood up, looked at the deer, and headed over to Mitchell and me. ¡°Initial exam indicated this deer was killed about twenty-four hours ago by the same creature. I¡¯ll have to do a full exam to verify that.¡±

    My stomach growled. ¡°Sorry, too much magic with too little food.¡±

    ¡°It happens,¡± Mitchell said.

    Nash just looked at me.

    If we kept working together, I¡¯d have to ask what his problem was. Until then, I wanted to find waffles. ¡°Do either of you need me to do anything else?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps after I have a chance to run some tests. But not now.¡± Nash sighed. ¡°Until the forensic team is done, all I can do is wait.¡±

    Mitchell sighed. ¡°I can¡¯t think of anything else for you to do here. I¡¯ll meet you later to talk to the alpha.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be ready.¡± I glanced at Nash. ¡°Let me know if you need anything.¡±

    The walk back to my car wasn¡¯t as creepy. Even this early, when my alarm would be getting ready to go off, morning light filtered through the trees, reducing the shadows that could hide a werewolf.

    I set the purification pouch back in Fabian¡¯s trunk. As I pulled onto the road, I made a mental note to restock. I only had one more ritual¡¯s worth of salt. With the number of scenes I¡¯d dealt with so far, that simply wasn¡¯t enough.

    My stomach rumbled again. ¡°Hush, you. We¡¯re almost there.¡±

    I took a right into Narzel Blast! I¡¯m Awake!, my favorite breakfast diner. Even at this hour, their parking lot was half-full, but I managed to find a spot near the front door. A wave of warmth chased the cold away when I walked inside.

    The entrance could¡¯ve been from any diner, with a bench seat along the wall and a hostess station weighed down by a stack of menus. The real character was further inside, where wallpaper featuring various explosions provided a backdrop for quotes. Featured squarely on the wall between the dining room and kitchen, bold letters proclaimed, ¡°Caffeine, then blast Narzel!¡±

    Tomasina, full-time employee and brownie, hurried over. Like usual, her near-black hair was pulled into a tidy bun, and her red lipstick was as bright as ever. A single menu floated off the pile. ¡°Just you?¡±

    The door opened, stealing the heat. Tea. I really needed tea to go with those waffles. ¡°Yup.¡±

    ¡°Pine, is that you?¡±

    I turned, hoping it wasn¡¯t who I thought. ¡°Harris.¡±

    He grinned cheerfully. ¡°I told you, off work, it¡¯s Wayne.¡±

    All I wanted to do was growl. Right now, he was standing between me and my food.

    ¡°One or two?¡± Tomasina asked, another menu already lifting off the pile.

    ¡°You don¡¯t mind, do you?¡± His smile faded a touch.

    Narzel blast. It would be like kicking a puppy. ¡°No.¡± At least this way, he wouldn¡¯t be between me and my food.

    ¡°Follow me.¡± Tomasina headed into the dining room, menus floating behind her. Three other brownies with dishes floating around them served customers and cleared tables. She took us to a booth in the very back, directly under a heating vent.

    I all but dove into the warm stream of air, leaving Harris to take the other seat. He settled in with an amused expression. Tomasina took our drink and breakfast order before hurrying off.

    Harris leaned against the table. ¡°You are looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been a long day,¡± I said dryly.

    Tomasina returned with a tray of beverages, water for both of us, coffee for Harris, and tea for me. ¡°Your food will be out soon.¡±

    He waited until she walked away. ¡°Only a case would have you out of bed and looking so official.¡±

    I¡¯d forgotten I was wearing my TBI jacket. ¡°Marvelous powers of observation.¡±

    ¡°Mm-hmm.¡± He sipped his coffee. ¡°Any relation to your other two cases? The incident at Get Magic Goods ended up on my desk.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right, ballistics.¡± Since I¡¯d been involved in the incident, the investigation portion hadn¡¯t been my job.

    Tomasina delivered our food, and I dug into the blueberry compote-slathered waffle. ¡°How¡¯s that going?¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± He shoved a forkful of eggs in his mouth. ¡°Need to recheck some calculations and finish up the final report this morning.¡±

    ¡°Hence the early morning.¡±

    ¡°Yup.¡± He poked at his omelet. ¡°Every time I go through it, I can¡¯t believe what Jameson did.¡±

    It felt like the last bite of waffles was lodged in my throat. I tried to wash away the sensation with water, but it only partly worked. Maybe one day I wouldn¡¯t blame myself, but today wasn¡¯t that day. ¡°I wish I¡¯d done more.¡±

    ¡°Hey.¡± Harris pulled my attention away from my plate. Like a few days ago, he offered a mix of compassion and a haunting shadow of similar regrets. ¡°I¡¯ve gone through the scene at least a dozen times. It wasn¡¯t your fault.¡±

    ¡°Maybe not, but I could¡¯ve done more.¡± I stabbed the waffle.

    ¡°Could you, though?¡± He let the question hang for several seconds. ¡°Something to think about.¡±

    Maybe Jameson would¡¯ve ignored a warning and things would¡¯ve ended up just the same. Forgiving myself for that was one thing, but raising him from the dead¡­ I¡¯d violated him, and no procedure, policy, or training could change that.

    ¡°But not over breakfast. This waffle is too good to cry on.¡± I held my breath, hoping he¡¯d get the hint.

    He nodded. ¡°That I can agree with.¡± He pointed at his plate with his fork. ¡°Wet, salty eggs have never appealed to me.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an image.¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said to his omelet.

    I snorted and steered the conversation back to work. Maybe he¡¯d have some ideas about the most recent scenes. ¡°An early morning call had me out by the lake. Two deer mauled, eaten, and covered in the same magic that I found at the machine shop, and very similar to what showed up at Magic Goods.¡±

    ¡°Two?¡± He leaned forward. ¡°So there¡¯s more than one of these werewolves, right?¡±

    ¡°Kills were a day apart.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± His eyes narrowed. ¡°That puts the time line at one kill per day for the last three days.¡±

    In my mind, the past three days were divided by never-have-I-ever and oops-I-raised-the-dead. Until he had put it together, my mind hadn¡¯t connected the events to the timeline. ¡°I wonder if the kills feed the blood magic.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of a werewolf practicing blood magic. Is it even possible?¡±

    ¡°Theoretically. They can siphon magic just like any other race, but why? What would a werewolf need that only blood magic could provide?¡± I prodded the one soggy piece of waffle left on my plate. Human hedge-practitioners were the group most likely to turn to blood magic, but that didn¡¯t rule out a werewolf. ¡°The stimulant spell wasn¡¯t blood magic. If anything, that predated the blood magic.¡±

    ¡°Who used a stimulant spell?¡± There was something in his voice.

    I met his intensity with my confusion. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. The magic has been messy. I think the werewolf, though again, why?¡±

    ¡°Fighters take stimulants.¡± His voice was empty of emotion. ¡°Sometimes to keep them alert, other times to amp them up before the fight.¡±

    ¡°So do workers trying to get through a long shift.¡±

    ¡°When¡¯s the last time you heard of one of them leaving a half-eaten body behind when they leave for the day?¡±

    It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t believe him, but it didn¡¯t entirely fit. ¡°The scene wasn¡¯t organized. Even street fights have boundaries for the fighters. They don¡¯t go running through a machine shop.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°You aren¡¯t asking the right questions.¡±

    ¡°Enlighten me.¡±

    Harris leaned across the table and lowered his voice. ¡°Why would a werewolf, a fierce fighter, need to amp up before a confrontation? And who was this wolf intending to fight?¡±

    Well, damn. Those were good questions.

 Chapter 18

    Wayne¡¯s questions bothered me throughout the small mountain of paperwork that occupied my morning. They were still bothering me when Mitchell called and asked me to meet her at the front of the building. I slid into the front seat of her car, and didn¡¯t ask her the questions Wayne had asked me.

    Why?

    I knew the spell stimulated the body, but for all I knew, it had been intended to help this werewolf with fertility issues before the blood magic had twisted it.

    Instead, I asked something I should¡¯ve asked this morning. ¡°What do you know about the alpha?¡±

    Mitchell merged onto the highway before answering. ¡°His group lives on the west side of Nashville. It¡¯s the only pack in Nashville, and no one I¡¯ve spoken to knows much about the alpha.¡±

    ¡°Their name isn¡¯t on record?¡± That was even stranger than a city the size of Nashville only having one pack.

    ¡°Just a phone number. When I called, a man answered, but I got the feeling he wasn¡¯t the alpha.¡± Mitchell shrugged. ¡°I did find a note saying the alpha was difficult to work with but not hostile.¡±

    ¡°So, we¡¯re winging it.¡± Not the tactic I would¡¯ve chosen since our primary suspect was a werewolf.

    Mitchell took an exit. ¡°Yup.¡±

    I should¡¯ve packed healing charms. Lots of healing charms.

    Ten minutes later, the city had given way to trees, and we were bumping down a long gravel driveway. A house peeked through the trees, a sprawling, blocky, whimsical creation of the 70s in lime green. The bright paint color was going to be burned into my eyes for hours.

    As Mitchell parked, the front door opened, and a short man corded with muscle stepped out. His jeans were threadbare at the knees but clean, and his t-shirt had a grease stain at the hip. He watched us get out of the car, already wearing our TBI jackets.

    ¡°I¡¯m Agent Mitchell, and this is Agent Pine.¡± She offered her badge for examination. He hardly glanced at it. ¡°I called earlier. We¡¯re here to talk to the alpha.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s waiting for you in the parlor.¡± He turned and walked back inside.

    I dropped back, letting Mitchell go ahead since this was her case.

    The inside of the house didn¡¯t match the outside. Overriding the 70s architecture, patterned wallpaper coordinated with Victorian curtains and furnishings. The parlor was just that. A settee and wing-backed chairs faced each other on one side of the room. Under the picture window, plush upholstered chairs clustered around an ornate table with gold leaf highlighting the designs on the legs.

    Our guide paused at the door and announced us. ¡°Agents Mitchell and Pine to see you.¡±

    A small woman, perhaps a couple of inches over five feet, crossed the room to meet us. Her ash-brown hair was twisted up into an elegant knot that matched her buff slacks and cream sweater. ¡°Welcome. Cora, Alpha of the Nashville pack.¡±

    I schooled my face into a polite smile. I¡¯d never met a female alpha. Coming from a matrilineal society, the predominantly male leadership of werewolves had always amused me. Not because they were bad, but because the dynamic was so different than what I had grown up with.

    We exchanged greetings, and she motioned us over to the table where a tray of sandwiches and sweets sat next to a tea service. ¡°What can I do for you?¡± she asked as she poured us tea.

    ¡°Do you have any wolves who are connected to CJ¡¯s Machine Shop?¡± Mitchell stirred sugar into her tea.

    I watched Cora as I added milk to mine.

    One delicate eyebrow arched. ¡°No, I can¡¯t say I do. CJ is a werewolf, but he hasn¡¯t joined the pack.¡±

    ¡°Any idea why not?¡± Mitchell asked.

    Cora pursed her lips. ¡°No. I¡¯ve offered, but he¡¯s always refused.¡±

    Now that was odd. A pack was a werewolf¡¯s family. Few wolves were comfortable without one, especially by choice. We needed to find someone who knew this pack¡¯s dynamic.

    Mitchell studied the alpha. ¡°Are all your wolves accounted for?¡±

    Cora stiffened. ¡°What do you know?¡±

    ¡°We have evidence of two wolves involved in an incident at CJ¡¯s Machine Shop.¡± Mitchell focused on the alpha.

    I sipped my tea and felt useless. I couldn¡¯t sense any magic out of place¡ªthough I was a bit envious of the spell on their grill that helped regulate temperature¡ªand it was Mitchell¡¯s case and her interview.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Two?¡± Cora set down her cup, sloshing tea over the rim as it clipped the edge of the saucer. ¡°Have you identified them? No, or you wouldn¡¯t be asking.¡±

    Mitchell and I continued to watch her.

    Cora dropped the polite expression she¡¯d been wearing, and her forehead crinkled. ¡°Monday I sent Thomas, a wolf of mine who¡¯s friendly with CJ, to talk to him. They play on the same rugby team, and I¡¯d hoped Thomas would be able to answer a question for me. CJ has refused every offer of membership, and I don¡¯t understand why. He goes to the same bars, plays on the same team, and drives across town to the same church as my pack member, but he won¡¯t join. Thomas never reported back. I brushed it off, thinking he was still working on getting an answer. This morning, his work called. He hasn¡¯t been in all week. Thomas is dependable. He wouldn¡¯t simply stop showing up.¡±

    Mitchell sighed. ¡°Does Thomas have any family in the area?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Do you know if Thomas has contacted them?¡±

    ¡°He hasn¡¯t.¡± Cora shook her head. ¡°Both his parents are in the pack. They wouldn¡¯t lie to me. We went by his house. His car is there, but his scent was faded. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s been there for several days. We were discussing filing a missing person¡¯s report when you called.¡±

    ¡°If I could get their information, I¡¯ll contact them directly.¡±

    ¡°My husband will get that for you.¡± Cora said it only slightly louder than the rest of the conversation. A moment later, the man who¡¯d shown us into the house appeared with a page listing Thomas¡¯ parents, a sibling, and his address.

    As delicious as the cookies looked, I¡¯d lost any interest. Thomas was gone, and CJ hadn¡¯t called about the police tape around his business. One of them was in the morgue, and the other was mauling deer.

    Mitchell thanked both of them before moving onto the painful questions. Neither Thomas nor CJ had ever been violent or prone to outbursts of temper. Cora didn¡¯t think her pack had been threatening to CJ, not that I expected her to admit to threatening anyone.

    ¡°I have to ask, do you know anyone who¡¯d want either of them dead?¡± It was the question Mitchell had been working up to.

    ¡°No. Thomas was liked. I didn¡¯t know CJ well, but he seemed like a decent man.¡±

    ¡°Did you want Thomas or CJ dead?¡± Mitchell locked eyes with Cora.

    ¡°No.¡± Cora¡¯s face hardened. ¡°I wanted CJ as a pack member, but I didn¡¯t want him dead.¡± Her voice faded out, and she took a deep breath. ¡°Thomas would play football with my sons and ask my daughter about karate. He was a friend.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Cora closed her eyes. ¡°Which one is dead?¡±

    Mitchell hesitated. ¡°We don¡¯t know.¡±

    Cora leaned into the chair, looking even smaller than she was. ¡°I should go with you when you talk to his family.¡±

    ¡°Unless you need to be there to help them with their control, it would be best if you didn¡¯t.¡± Mitchell¡¯s voice softened. ¡°I also need to ask that you not share this information until I have spoken to them.¡±

    ¡°You have my word.¡± Cora¡¯s tear-filled eyes went from Mitchell to me. ¡°You haven¡¯t spoken. Why are you here?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the department witch.¡± She didn¡¯t react. Either she¡¯d already known, or I¡¯d surprised her, and she was compensating. ¡°I found spells at the crime scene.¡±

    She flicked her fingers into the air. ¡°As you can tell, I¡¯m not a magic user. What use would I have for magic?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a great question.¡±

    Cora glared at me. ¡°Fine.¡± The sorrow and a bit of surprise showed in her face. ¡°What spell would work for me? I can¡¯t use a compulsion to hold CJ in the clan. Even the attempt would see me in jail. If I wanted him dead, there are ways that leave less evidence even without magic. What would a spell do for me that I could not do without it?¡±

    I didn¡¯t disagree, but I had to keep pressing. ¡°To some, power is power, no matter how they get it.¡±

    Her brows pulled together. ¡°I am Alpha. I have all the power I need.¡± Command radiated off her words.

    The power in her voice bowed my head. The muscles in my neck ached as I raised my head to lock eyes with her. ¡°Enough!¡±

    She held my gaze a moment longer before her shoulders relaxed and her overly large irises returned to a normal human¡¯s. ¡°I have power.¡± The force of her faded from the air.

    I sucked in a deep breath and realized I¡¯d scooted back from the table under the weight of Cora the Alpha. Mitchell shook her head, as if she was trying to clear it of Cora¡¯s influence. Not wanting another demonstration, I lowered my gaze as I slid a business card across the table. ¡°If you hear of any shifters, be they wolves or not, showing off magic or charms, please let us know.¡±

    ¡°I will.¡±

    Mitchell¡¯s card joined mine. ¡°Or anything else you think could be pertinent to the investigation.¡±

    ¡°It would be good to know what happened to our Thomas.¡± Cora picked up both the cards. Her mate appeared in the doorway. ¡°Thank you for stopping by. I assume if Thomas¡¯s family calls me, I can tell them I too am aware of his trouble?¡±

    ¡°Yes. If there¡¯s nothing else, we need to be going.¡± Mitchell offered her hand. ¡°Thank you for taking the time to meet with us.¡±

    Cora shook her hand and then mine. ¡°Anything to help the pack. Don¡¯t be afraid to come back if you have additional questions.¡±

    The fake pleasantries stretched out, with both sides hoping the other would let something slip, but neither did. It took a few minutes, but eventually Mitchell and I were bumping back down the lengthy driveway.

    The meeting had left me torn. Cora knew more. At a minimum, she had understated the methods used to persuade CJ to join the pack, but I doubted she¡¯d supplied or encouraged her pack to use magic. Even if it would have given them a way to get CJ into the pack, it was illegal, and the penalties were steep.

    Back when I was a teenager, there¡¯d been a case of a witch selling powerful coercion spells to a human. The human had used them to control a bank manager and the security guard so he could rob the bank. Compulsions were considered dangerous magic. President Ederin had eaten both the human and witch.

    Not that it was much of a meal. Dragons who covered several football fields needed a lot of meat. Though I¡¯d heard a rumor that he enjoyed pecan pies.

    Basically, adding one more pack member wasn¡¯t worth the potential sentence. I couldn¡¯t say from firsthand experience, but judging from the screams on the television when they showed the execution, it wasn¡¯t an easy way to die.

    Dragons could be like cats.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see a reason for you to come with me to talk to Thomas¡¯s family. I¡¯ve got the MagicMeter, and my gut says they didn¡¯t use magic.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re sure.¡± My phone buzzed, and I tugged it out of my pocket. ¡°The medical examiner wants me to stop by.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure the answers to the magic aren¡¯t with the werewolves.¡± Mitchell¡¯s mouth was pressed into a thin line.

    ¡°Me too.¡± It would¡¯ve been easier if Cora had been dripping with blood magic. Not that I ever wanted to see a shifter with that kind of power, but the werewolves had never been good suspects for a source of the spells.

    Now the fey¡­ that idea had some promise.

 Chapter 19

    This time, Nash wasn¡¯t waiting for me. The receptionist reminded me which way to turn to get to his office. I headed back, my badge in plain view. Nash¡¯s door was cracked open. I rapped on the frame.

    ¡°Come in.¡±

    I pushed the door open. As clean as Nash¡¯s desk had been last time, it was anything but that now. Piles of papers dominated the surface, leaving hardly enough room for his computer. ¡°Should I ask?¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡± He signed a paper before looking up. ¡°That was quick.¡± He tossed the file onto a stack to his right.

    My eyebrows crept up. ¡°It was so clean last time.¡±

    He blinked at me before actually looking at the desk. A blush darkened his cheeks. ¡°One of my colleagues was fired for reasons HR says we can¡¯t talk about, but the result is a review of every case this colleague ever touched.¡±

    ¡°Wowzers. Is that all the ones you have to do?¡± I had visions of reviewing cases from other agents, the thousands of reports I¡¯d have to comb through if I ended up with a fraction of what a long-serving agent could generate.

    ¡°No.¡± He stabbed his pen toward a stack of six file boxes lined up beside the filing cabinets. ¡°That is half of the lot.¡±

    I blinked.

    ¡°But that idiot¡¯s mess isn¡¯t why I called.¡± He shuffled through a stack of files until he found the right one. ¡°I¡¯ve isolated several blood samples. One for the werewolf who isn¡¯t occupying the morgue and one for the fey. Would you like to use them for tracking spells?¡±

    ¡°The purifying spell didn¡¯t destroy everything useful? And they¡¯re pure, only one person¡¯s blood in the sample?¡± If so, that could be enough to crack this case.

    ¡°Pure. They¡¯ve been typed and tested for containment. Two test tubes for you to use.¡± Nash tugged a sheet out and handed it to me. ¡°They¡¯re a portion of the samples being used for DNA testing. I have some from the dead werewolf too, but I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d need that.¡±

    I skimmed the sheet to make sure everything was in order, snagged a pen off his desk, and signed it. To someone less familiar with magic, it might seem odd to want a blood sample unless blood magic was in the plan. What some people didn¡¯t understand was the difference between using blood in a spell, as an identifying component or even a willing sacrifice, and using it as a way to steal energy, to steal a person¡¯s life while causing them pain.

    Even as a necromancer, I had standards. Willing blood donations and using blood as a connection to a person were fine. No one was hurt, and no one was dying to give me power. With these blood samples, I could make tracking spells that would lead me right to the werewolf or fey.

    ¡°Give me a minute.¡± Nash left the office. He returned with a small soft-sided cooler in hand. To make sure everyone was comfortable, it was stamped with bio-hazard symbols on each side.

    ¡°That¡¯s going to raise some eyebrows when I walk though work with it.¡± The whole office would speculate on what spells I¡¯d concocted with biohazardous material.

    Nash glanced between the cooler and me. ¡°And I keep finding sandwiches in the fridge the blood samples came from.¡±

    ¡°Gross.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± He handed me the cooler. ¡°When I get results back on those deer, I¡¯ll let you know.¡± Nash took one step toward his desk and stopped. His shoulders rounded, and he seemed lost in the pile of cases on his desk.

    I knew it was a dismissal, but no one deserved to have that many files dumped on them. ¡°Have you been to Walking Rug?¡±

    He twitched as if coming back to himself. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°The bar. Walking Rug? Run by a few werebears?¡± I took pity on him. ¡°Nash, I¡¯m offering to buy you a drink. Come out, feel alive.¡± The irony of a necromancer asking someone to feel alive wasn¡¯t lost on me.

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    ¡°Umm.¡± He closed and then opened his mouth.

    ¡°You have my number. Give me a call if you want to take me up on the offer.¡±

    ***

    Back at work, and at the small bench that was my section of the lab space, I carefully unpacked the blood. It wouldn¡¯t be stable at room temperature very long, but I had all the components of this spell at hand. As long as nothing went wrong, it would only take a few minutes.

    Unlike the rest of the lab, which was set up for chemistry and the like, this area had been refitted for me. Mostly that meant stocking the cabinets under this workbench with all the things a witch would need.

    In a matter of moments, I¡¯d lined up two charm bases, a thin pine disk with a tiny clear crystal stuck in the center, a few bottles of herbs, metal rune stamps, and a hammer.

    I carefully hammered the runes around the edge of the disk before mixing herbs together and heaping them in a pile in the center of the charm directly on top of the small crystal. Cupping my hands around it, I fed it my magic and stabilized the spell until it settled into the charm. When I took my hands away, a smoothly domed stone had replaced the crystal and pile of herbs. The second charm went as quickly as the first.

    With the generic part of the spell complete, I retrieved the evidence bags. It only took a moment to make sure the correct blood sample was sitting next to the correctly labeled charm. I carefully pipetted a single drop of blood onto each one.

    The charms flared, and then a tiny green dot settled at the edge of the stone. At the moment, both charms were indicating the same direction, but Nashville was hardly a small town. They could be miles apart, and right now any movement toward that area was good enough.

    I tucked each charm into its bag and cleaned up. The blood went into the freezer. When everything was ready, I took the bagged charms down to my desk and sent both Mitchell and Smith a note about the tracking charms. While I waited for a response, I microwaved a cup of noodles and ate a late lunch. If one could call heavily salted noodles from a cup lunch.

    My phone rang as I slurped down the last forkful of noodles. It rang twice more before I could get to it. ¡°Agent Pine.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll meet you at your car in five. Let¡¯s find them.¡± Mitchell hung up.

    A little more warning would¡¯ve been nice. Even so, I managed to fit in a trip to the bathroom on my way outside. She was leaning against my department vehicle, and I walked the rest of the way over holding up the bags with the charms.

    A big grin spread across her face. ¡°I love having a witch in the department. Come on.¡±

    I settled into the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°Werewolf or fey?¡±

    ¡°Werewolf?¡±

    I stashed the charm attuned to the fey in the glove box and handed her the one for the werewolf. ¡°You know how these work?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve used them before.¡± She eyed it as I headed toward the exit. ¡°North and a bit east.¡±

    I flipped on a turn signal as we waited to leave.

    ¡°Thomas¡¯s family is going to come in and give DNA samples. If we don¡¯t catch the missing werewolf tonight, we¡¯ll know who we¡¯re dealing with in a day or two.¡± Her hands tightened on the charm.

    We both knew that might be too late, both to save the werewolf and to save anyone who might cross its path. ¡°I hope we catch it today.¡±

    ¡°Me too.¡±

    For the next twenty minutes, the only conversation revolved around directions. The tracking charm guided us out of Nashville and toward Hendersonville. When we left the interstate, things got more interesting. The dot on the charm was larger, but the roads didn¡¯t have much of a pattern. We¡¯d turn onto a street and end up going the wrong way. Even with a map, it wasn¡¯t easy to figure out where the charm thought we should go and plot a course there.

    After more than an hour, and no few rude words said by both of us, we stopped at a house only a few hundred feet from Cumberland River. The green covered half the tracking charm, but from the street, nothing stood out about the brick, single-story ranch. The curtains were drawn on the windows, and the attached garage made it impossible to tell if someone was home.

    I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d hoped for, but blood or an open car door or some graffiti proclaiming a crazy werewolf was in residence would¡¯ve been nice. I put the car in park.

    Mitchell got out of the car. ¡°Time to knock on some doors.¡±

    As I followed her to the door, I transferred the charm to my left hand and drew my wand. If the werewolf came through the door, I wanted to have a chance of containing the situation.

    Mitchell pushed the doorbell.

    My hand tightened around my wand.

    Not so much as a creak of wood settling came from the house.

    Mitchell poked the doorbell again and rapped on the door.

    Seconds passed, and I looked down and exhaled, trying to relax. The doormat¡¯s pink and blue flowers would¡¯ve been cheerful, but a dark stain at the top of the mat covered part of the flowers.

    The breeze died down, and I caught a stale metallic note. Ignoring Mitchell¡¯s pounding, I knelt down. A thin sheet of red coated the bottom of the door and had flowed into the doormat. I wasn¡¯t a blood expert, but this dark and dull stain was drying blood.

    ¡°Mitchell, we need to try a different door.¡± This one was evidence, and we¡¯d needed every shred we could get.

    She looked down and swore.

    An odor of decay reached my nose. My stomach clenched. If we were about to find a mutilated body, let it be fresh. Death wasn¡¯t a smell that improved with a few days¡¯ time.

 Chapter 20

    At the back door, I planted my feet on each side of a dark smudge that could have been a blood stain on the concrete and nodded.

    Mitchell drew her gun.

    My fingers tightened on my wand. The doorknob turned under my hand. I shoved it open so hard it hit the wall.

    The small kitchen was empty, but the lights were on there and in the hall. Bloody footprints led from the rest of the house to this door.

    I kept moving, trying to avoid the blood. An opening led to an empty dining room, the table piled with medical supplies.

    Mitchell branched off, going through the dining room to the adjoining space. The hall opened up, the back of a couch marking the living room. Mitchell kept moving through the living room, but I had my eye on the front door.

    Sprawled on the ground was a very dead fey.

    Next time I saw Mom, I needed to thank her for all the hunting trips as a child. I¡¯d seen and smelled worse, so I knew I wouldn¡¯t lose my lunch on the body. Bloated, three-days-dead fey was less than delightful.

    Mitchell went past me toward the bedrooms.

    Even though I needed to follow her, there was one thing I had to do first. Letting down the shield that kept me from seeing magic all the time, I gave the body another look. No active spells or blood magic, but there was some residue. I¡¯d have to look at it more closely after we finished clearing the house.

    The blood trail continued down the hall to the bathroom. Past that, the carpet was decorated in occasional red smudges, likely more blood. The two bedrooms were clear, as was the master bath. From there, we started poking into all the nooks and crannies they always skipped on TV shows. They were clear of people, which left us with one dead fey and a lot of questions.

    Mitchell called it in.

    I called Nash¡¯s office.

    ¡°Is there a problem with the samples?¡± he said when he answered the phone.

    ¡°Maybe. I¡¯m looking at a dead fey and a lot of blood. I was trying to track the werewolf, but he isn¡¯t here.¡± When I had a moment, I¡¯d check the spells, but I was sure I hadn¡¯t crossed the samples. ¡°The official call should be coming in soon.¡±

    ¡°I verified those samples myself.¡± Nash sounded tired.

    ¡°And I¡¯ll check my work, but right now I have a dead fey.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be ready to hit the road when the official call comes in.¡± He sighed. ¡°Any chance I¡¯ll have evidence worth looking at?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a chance of good news. By the time you¡¯re here, I¡¯ll know more.¡±

    In the background, a phone rang. ¡°I remain ever hopeful.¡± With that, he hung up.

    Since Mitchell was still on the phone, I went back to examine the body. There had been spells on it, but all that remained now were tiny motes of power. Fewer than I¡¯d expected, given the spells at the machine shop, but time could do that. The lack of blood magic was refreshing. Either it hadn¡¯t contaminated the fey as thoroughly, or time had worked its own kind of magic.

    Blood magic had some odd quirks. Enough of it soaking into one place could sink into a building or land and contaminate everyone who came into contact with it, trying to get its hooks in them and force them to do its bidding. Or it could go the other way. Small amounts of blood magic weren¡¯t stable. With some time, those faded into nothing. They didn¡¯t even leave behind harmful residue.

    The good news was I could give Nash a body that didn¡¯t go through a purification ritual. The bad news was I wasn¡¯t any closer to piecing together the spell fragments I¡¯d found at the machine shop.

    As I reabsorbed the probe, cold power unfurled inside me, looking for a way out. Nope, not going to raise the dead in front of an agent and get myself killed. I clamped down on the necromancy and walked away from the body, pulling my magic to the forefront. With Mitchell still on the phone, this was a perfect time to examine the rest of the house.

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    With each step down the hall, the necromancy settled back where it belonged. I went through the house, this time looking for magic rather than people and keeping well away from the body. My necromancy stayed where it should, for which I was grateful.

    A box under the master bed had contained something magical, but the items were gone, and the remains weren¡¯t anything identifiable other than fading remnants of energy.

    ¡°Pine?¡±

    ¡°Coming.¡±

    Back in the living room, Mitchell pinned me with a stare. ¡°Do we need to be purified?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Mitchell¡¯s shoulders relaxed. ¡°How did we go hunting for a werewolf and end up finding a fey?¡±

    That was a darn good question. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Mitchell closed her eyes, and her lips moved like she was counting to ten. ¡°Story of this case.¡±

    ¡°While you were on the phone, I looked through the house and examined the body. I didn¡¯t find any magic of note, unless a knife that never needs sharpening counts.¡± But who didn¡¯t have one of those? I put that spell on all my knives. ¡°If you don¡¯t need me in here, I¡¯d like to get the other charm from the car and figure out why werewolf hunting turned into fey hunting.¡±

    ¡°Go for it.¡± She flapped a hand at me. ¡°I have more calls to make, plus tape and such to set up.¡± Her phone rang.

    I headed back to the car. For the first time, I didn¡¯t have to clean up a bunch of spells and destroy evidence in the process. Hopefully, this would be a break in the case.

    I propped the car door open, letting a bit of a breeze come in. Now the odors from the body seemed lodged in my nose.

    Looking out the window as I retrieved the charm from the glove box, I felt bad for the neighborhood. Right now, it was quiet, with tidy houses and slightly overgrown yards. In a few minutes, this place would be swarming with police, and the illusion of the neighborhood where nothing bad happened would be broken.

    The best thing I could do for them was help catch the werewolf, so I turned my attention to the charms. The first thing I checked were the identifiers on the bags. The one I¡¯d taken inside was clearly labeled werewolf, and the one that had been in the car said fey. Both location indicators were pointing to this house. If nothing else, I was sure I hadn¡¯t used the same blood for both of them. I probed the spells, but all they could tell me was how they¡¯d been constructed. Nothing was wrong there.

    Leaving the car, I walked around the house with both charms. Their indicators never changed. They were both sure that what they tracked was inside the house.

    Maybe the werewolf was here, or the werewolf had bled here. Or maybe under the stress of twelve boxes of files to review, Nash had messed up. Either way, the connection was strong enough to pull the charm to this house.

    I stowed both charms in the glove compartment, told Mitchell my findings, and started setting up the perimeter. Until everyone else got here, it was up to Mitchell and I to maintain the scene.

    Before long, the place was swarming with officers. Nash arrived with an assistant, and he managed to look even more haggard than he had before. I let him know what I¡¯d found and got out of his way. Out of everyone¡¯s way. The crime scene techs didn¡¯t need me there.

    The sun had settled low in the sky when Mitchell came over. The bags under her eyes were darker than they¡¯d been this morning, and she moved as if everything took a little more effort. After propping a hip against the car, she sighed. ¡°You should head back. I¡¯ll get a ride with someone else when I can leave.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Yup. I have to be here, but you don¡¯t. Write up your report and get a good night¡¯s rest.¡± She watched Nash and his assistant guide the gurney across the grass.

    ¡°Everything has been searched?¡± Those charms should be working, so where was the werewolf? The house wasn¡¯t that large, and the slab-on-grade construction didn¡¯t leave a crawl space or basement.

    ¡°Everything. Even up in the attic.¡± Mitchell patted my shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ll need to figure out a reason the charm led us here if we go to court, and for the bureau¡¯s integrity, but it¡¯s still good work. We didn¡¯t have any other leads on the fey.¡±

    ¡°I need to figure it out for my own peace of mind.¡± I pushed away from the car. ¡°If you find anything that needs me¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t hesitate to call.¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Have I yet?¡±

    Rolling my eyes, I settled into the driver¡¯s seat. Mitchell patted the car, and I was away.

    Back at the office, I headed to the lab. It only took a few minutes and species identification strips to determine the blood in each test tube matched what species indicated on the label. So much for clarity on that problem. Frustrated, I returned the blood samples to the fridge before going to my desk for yet more paperwork. The report, which hadn¡¯t taken too long, was filled and I was packing up when the phone rang. ¡°Agent Pine.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Nash.¡± He hesitated. ¡°I looked at the blood samples again. They should¡¯ve been fine. I don¡¯t know why the werewolf sample would lead to that house.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t the answer I¡¯d hoped for, especially not after dropping the blood on strips to identify species. They¡¯d both matched their test tubes. ¡°It should¡¯ve linked to the things it connected with most strongly, like the rest of the body that produced it.¡±

    ¡°The additional labs should be back in the morning, along with some of the blood work on the fey. I¡¯ll see if I can find anything.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do a little research tonight. See if I missed a connection type.¡± That and some quality time with the grimoire would be as much fun as I could stand this evening.

    ¡°About that,¡± Nash said slowly. ¡°Could I take you up on that drink?¡±

    Not that I was eager to dive back into the world of necromancy, but I needed to learn so I wouldn¡¯t raise someone again. ¡°Tonight?¡±

    ¡°I assumed that was the original offer.¡±

    ¡°And you didn¡¯t take me up on it.¡± I winced. That hadn¡¯t come out right. ¡°I mean, I wasn¡¯t expecting you to call today. What time?¡±

    ¡°Seven?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you then.¡± I hung up and hoped agreeing had been the right choice. Last time I¡¯d seen him, Nash had looked like he needed a bed more than a beer.

 Chapter 21

    After a quick shower and dinner, I enjoyed the rumble of Fabian¡¯s engine on the way to the pub. Walking Rug didn¡¯t occupy what most people considered prime real estate. Which it more than made up for in its customers¡¯ views by the ample parking and the classic rock that was low enough to allow conversation but loud enough to fill the silence. Unlike most bars, they didn¡¯t crank the music when the crowd made some noise. That tradition had started with the owners, a family of werebears, but their patrons, mostly shifters and other species with sensitive ears, had rewarded them by coming back for over fifty years.

    The bouncer, sporting a shirt striped like a beach ball, let me in with a smile.

    Thursday wasn¡¯t their busiest day, since ladies¡¯ night was more of a college thing, so I walked right up to a high top and sat down. At three to seven, the friendly waiter deposited a lemon drop mocktail and a water to my table.

    Exactly two minutes later, Nash walked through the door in cowboy boots and jeans that could¡¯ve been painted on. The collared shirt with rolled-up sleeves and the top two buttons undone showed the smooth lines of his chest. His silver hair fell to the middle of his back with only two slender braids holding it away from his face. He spotted me, grinned, and adjusted his course.

    I gulped half my lemon drop, wishing it had some alcohol. I¡¯d thought my jeans, boots, and a cute shirt were fine for meeting a coworker for some friendly complaining about the job. We¡¯d clearly had different expectations tonight, and I didn¡¯t want there to be any confusion. Of course, how was I going to explain what I¡¯d meant when I made the offer without sounding like an idiot?

    ¡°Close your mouth, Pine.¡± Nash slid into the seat opposite me. ¡°I own something other than slacks.¡±

    ¡°My mouth wasn¡¯t open.¡±

    ¡°If you say so.¡± He signaled the waiter and ordered nachos and a soda.

    Maybe my mouth had been open, but the coveralls I¡¯d first seen him in hadn¡¯t exactly been flattering. While the waiter was there, I ordered fries. When the waiter left, I didn¡¯t know what to say.

    Nash twisted around and caught sight of the bar¡¯s main attraction, the werebear sleeping on a balcony above the bar. It wiggled around, and the light played off its black fur. I couldn¡¯t tell from here, but based on the size, I was willing to bet one of the ladies in the family was on duty.

    ¡°Ten years I¡¯ve lived in Nashville, and no one ever recommended this place.¡± He leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. ¡°I hear about wine and piano bars. I think I¡¯ve been to every one around town. Stuffy, pretentious places.¡±

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    ¡°This is more your style?¡± I let him hear the surprise in my voice. Elves did have a reputation, and Walking Rug didn¡¯t really fit it.

    ¡°A guy can relax here, laugh, have fun.¡± His glee faded. ¡°But I can¡¯t keep calling you Pine. We aren¡¯t at work.¡±

    ¡°Kelsey.¡± I hesitated and then stuck my hand across the table. ¡°Nice to meet you¡­¡±

    ¡°Nashua, no last name in elf tradition, but most people call me Nash.¡± He shook my hand.

    ¡°Well, Nash, I¡¯m glad you like the place.¡± The waiter arrived with our food and saved me from thinking of what else to say.

    Nash all but inhaled two chips dripping with cheese, leaned back in his chair, and studied me. ¡°Nervous, Kelsey?¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s a girl supposed to answer that without sounding like an idiot?¡± Not the best answer, but it saved me from saying what I was thinking.

    He narrowed his eyes.

    I ate a french fry.

    ¡°I¡¯m single. I¡¯ve had all my shots, and I¡¯m not looking for a girlfriend tonight.¡± He popped another nacho in his mouth. ¡°I was really hoping to have a good time and get to know someone I think I¡¯ll see a lot at work.¡±

    It was my turn to narrow my eyes. Was I really that transparent? Not a question I was willing to ask. ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything.¡±

    He lost any sign of amusement. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to. I really would like to have a good uncomplicated time.¡±

    ¡°Well, now that we¡¯re on the same page.¡± I lifted up my lemon drop. ¡°To a good time.¡±

    He clinked glasses with me. ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering, how did you end up at the TBI? Hardly a normal career path for a witch.¡±

    The practiced reply I¡¯d perfected through college and two years of training rolled off my tongue. ¡°My clan does a lot of contract work, mostly spells set into building foundations and the like. I wanted to help people, and as a kid, I liked the idea of being a cop. A little older, and ever so slightly wiser, I realized that wasn¡¯t the best way I could help. Going through the clans for every bit of magic puts a strain on law enforcement. I could do something about that, even if it only helped one state.¡±

    I tugged the basket of fries closer. ¡°What about you? Most elves love nature and growing things.¡±

    Nash snorted. ¡°Silly really. If they¡¯re so in touch with the earth, why do they focus only on one part? Mother Earth¡¯s cycle includes death, and it was the part never covered in my lessons, so I went to college and medical school. My family thinks I¡¯m crazy, but they still love me.¡±

    ¡°Same.¡± I grinned at him.

    After that, conversation rolled along. With the easy banter, I relaxed and had a good time. Two hours later, he walked me to my car, which I¡¯d protested, not that it did much good.

    ¡°Night, Kelsey, and thank you.¡± He bowed his head.

    Sometimes elves were just odd. ¡°I¡¯m here any time the mountain of papers gets to be too tall.¡±

    The corners of Nash¡¯s mouth turned up. He bowed his head again and walked away.

    Elves, men, I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d ever understand them.

    Back home, I spent a few minutes on the promised research. All I found was what I already knew. Something had drawn those charms to the house rather than to the individual bodies housing (or in the fey¡¯s case, previously housing) their blood. Whatever created the connection was stronger than that tie.

    That sounded fancy and helpful, but not much was stronger than a blood tie.

    Too tired and frustrated to even attempt to puzzle out what had diverted my charms, I went to bed. As I closed my eyes, I prayed I¡¯d get to sleep through the night.

 Chapter 22

    Narzel was laughing at me.

    Or he hated me, and this was his method of revenge, one ruined night¡¯s sleep at a time.

    Shivering in Fabian because the heat hadn¡¯t had time to get moving, I flipped on the turn signal. Early morning calls were becoming a habit, and if it kept up for much longer, I¡¯d have to adjust my bedtime. Though, going to bed early enough to get my full eight hours would put me firmly in the old woman sleep pattern category. That would make dating tricky. Not many guys my age were keen on an eight o¡¯clock curfew.

    I parked along the same road as yesterday and retrieved my purification supplies before heading for the police line. After a few friendly words with the officer who¡¯d been here yesterday too and seemed truly thrilled to be back, I headed over to Mitchell.

    From ten feet away, she growled, ¡°Just get on with it.¡±

    No need to tell me twice. Not ten minutes later, I¡¯d looked at the partly-eaten deer and purified everything. Just another day in the life.

    ¡°Same as before?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Mitchell swore. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t think you can do much more good here. Nash will pick up this body like the others, and maybe this time we¡¯ll have enough evidence to do something useful.¡±

    The three officers here with her weren¡¯t much compared to the crowd we¡¯d attracted yesterday, and Mitchell looked like she was ready to start sleeping standing up. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Go before I change my mind.¡±

    I turned back to the cars, stashed my stuff, and debated what to do. Going home didn¡¯t make much sense; my alarm would go off in an hour. Resigned to being at the office early again, I headed for the highway.

    At least at five, the traffic wasn¡¯t too bad, and I could get a prime parking spot. From there, it was me, a mostly empty building, and yet more paperwork. If anyone ever cursed me to be killed by the most tedious part of my job, I¡¯d suffocate under a mountain of paper.

    By the time everyone else was rolling into work, I¡¯d finished the report and had moved onto reviewing all the notes on the cases. Maybe we¡¯d missed something, or I¡¯d find a way to track the werewolf. There had to be information that tied all of this together.

    I clicked over to page two, and my phone rang. ¡°Agent Pine.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Nash. I have something you¡¯ll want to see.¡± The humor and playfulness from last night had been replaced by the serious Nash I¡¯d grown accustomed to.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be there soon.¡± I picked up an extra-strong tea on my way over. It propped open my eyes, but it didn¡¯t stop the fatigue that reminded me I¡¯d lost a few of hours of sleep.

    Like before, the receptionist sent me to Nash¡¯s office alone. This time, the door was open, and I got a smile when I knocked. The pile of file boxes had been hidden under a green blanket. It must¡¯ve been an improvement to him, because his eyes skated right over them without wincing.

    ¡°I have useful information.¡± He waved a stack of papers in the air.

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡± I settled into the chair across from him.

    He frowned at the stack of papers. ¡°I need more room. This way.¡±

    I followed him through a few hallways to a small break room, where one person hunched over a sandwich, eating it as if it might grow legs and run away. Nash motioned for me to sit and then took the seat next to me.

    Elbows propped on the table, I watched him carefully set the pages in a tidy line. He pointed to the first one. ¡°The purification ritual destroyed a lot of the evidence, I think because of the spells you were eradicating. I¡¯ve examined bodies after purification before, and their systems were unaffected. So, off the dead wolf, I found elevated levels of adrenaline, even more than I would¡¯ve expected from a fight.¡±

    I nodded like I understood where this was going. The man at the other end of the table finished eating and hurried away. Our conversation probably hadn¡¯t helped his appetite.

    ¡°In the man from Get Magic Goods, I found the same thing. The deer, their blood work came back with high adrenaline as well. I have a request in for more hormonal analysis of the deer, but I wouldn¡¯t hold my breath.

    ¡°Now, the fey is where it gets interesting. I sent samples yesterday with a rush. They came back with elevated levels too. But if we go back to the scene at CJ¡¯s Machine Shop, I isolated a werewolf blood sample, not the corpse but a different werewolf. That came back with tons of elevated hormones, almost everything I expected to see from someone who¡¯d been in a fight, but at ten times those levels.¡± He poked a finger at the last piece of paper. ¡°That has to be what the spell was doing.¡±

    ¡°It fits with the fragments I found, though if we ever end up having to testify, I can¡¯t say for sure what the spell was.¡± My eyes settled on the last paper, like I could understand all the medical terms and results listed there. ¡°Maybe... never mind.¡±

    ¡°What? Did I miss something?¡±

    I ran the idea through my mind again. Maybe the tracking spells hadn¡¯t malfunctioned, but what if it had tracked the wrong thing? ¡°Blood is great for tracking because it has a strong connection to the person. But it also has a strong connection to itself. Since I didn¡¯t do anything to focus the tracking spell, I think it latched onto the thing most like the sample I used to create the spell. Another blood sample from a similar time frame with a unique cocktail of hormones could produce a stronger connection than the person.¡±

    Nash¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°You need more blood samples, so you can exclude the hormonal and spell connection.¡±

    ¡°Some flesh might be better, but I can work with blood samples.¡± With a hunk of the werewolf, I could make a spell that would tie that piece to the whole and track him that way.

    ¡°Don¡¯t have any flesh samples. But I have lots of blood.¡± Nash scooped up the papers. ¡°And this time you¡¯re going to watch me create the samples so there¡¯s no doubt about the origin.¡±

    I followed him back to the office. ¡°Do we know which werewolf we¡¯re looking for?¡±

    ¡°Not officially, but unofficially, I blood typed Thomas¡¯s parents. The remains are his. Just waiting for the DNA to confirm. The other werewolf blood sample has a blood type that couldn¡¯t have come from those two.¡± Nash dropped the papers on his desk. ¡°To autopsy.¡±

    That turned out to be a bit of an adventure. The lab classes I¡¯d taken in college hadn¡¯t required this much gear. But, here I was, decked out in a lab coat, two sets of gloves, and a weird sleeve protector, with goggles strapped to my head.

    While I stood awkwardly, he scurried around, retrieving blood and setting things up on a bench top against the wall. That might¡¯ve occupied my attention if two of the tables weren¡¯t occupied.

    The toe tag dangled off the man from Get Magic Goods, and the green skin of the other identified him as the fey. ¡°I thought you¡¯d finished with the Magic Goods autopsy.¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡± He twisted around. ¡°Oh, he¡¯s a reference to see what similarities and differences I find in the fey. Never know what could solve a case.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the damn truth,¡± I muttered.

    ¡°Narzel¡­ I¡¯ll be right back. Someone forgot to restock the test tubes.¡± He was out the door before I could say anything, leaving me alone with two bodies.

    Necromancy flowed up from my leg until it filled my head, almost like it was looking through my eyes.

    ¡°Sweet bones of...¡± I should¡¯ve read the grimoire last night.

    The power flexed. I couldn¡¯t tell if it had stayed in my skin or if the motes of dust in the air were really motes of necromancy.

    The fey¡¯s bloated head turned toward me. ¡°Mistress.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t look away from the death-clouded eyes. Not here, not now. This couldn¡¯t be happening.

 Chapter 23

    ¡°Blood to trigger, blood to power,¡± The apparently undead fey continued. ¡°Never another spell cross.¡± His head turned until he was looking at the ceiling.

    ¡°Die, stay dead,¡± I hissed as I glanced over my shoulder. Nash could come back any moment. Turning back to the not-so-dead fey, I added another order. ¡°Rest and walk no more.¡±

    But his eyes were already closed, and the necromancy was crawling back to where it lived, having scared me enough for one day.

    ¡°I keep telling them to restock, but they don¡¯t listen,¡± Nash grumbled as the door whooshed open and then closed again.

    Blood pounded through me. The fey looked dead, but did a zombie really look that different from a corpse if it wasn¡¯t moving?

    ¡°Pine?¡±

    What if he wasn¡¯t dead? What would I do then? Narzel. I had to study that book tonight.

    Nash suddenly appeared between me and the zombie fey. Or was it dead again? This was so confusing.

    ¡°Do you need to sit down?¡± His brows pulled together, and he examined my face. ¡°You look pale.¡±

    ¡°Um.¡± I blinked, trying to figure out what to say.

    He cupped my elbow and turned me away. ¡°I forget not everyone is as comfortable around the dead. If you can hold it together while I make these samples for you, we can leave.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I said faintly, holding back a manic laughter with everything in me. If anything, I was too comfortable with the dead. You know, just a normal problem for a twenty-four year old witch.

    I did my best to hold it together while Nash prepared the samples. My necromancy stayed quiet, and I escaped without him asking again if I was feeling okay. Given the not-as-dead-as-he-should¡¯ve-been fey, that was as good as it got.

    The drive back to work took all my attention, which helped stuff the fear back to where it belonged. After dropping the new blood samples in the fridge, I went out for a long lunch. By the time I returned, my nerves had settled enough for me to work some very normal, no-necromancy-needed spells.

    I blocked out everything, well, everything related to necromancy, and immersed myself in a complex bit of casting. Using all the blood samples Nash had provided, I crafted a new tracking spell. This one had strict instructions not to look for blood with similar features, which was where the other samples came in, but for the source of it.

    The end result didn¡¯t look much different than the other ones, but the disk of wood had three times as many runes etched into its surface. When everything pulled together, the spell didn¡¯t point toward the morgue or directly to the house, but to the west. Unless my next early morning call was for a dead deer on that side of town, I wasn¡¯t sure I trusted this spell, even though it should have been correct.

    That doubt was enough to shatter my focus. Werewolf, undead, and necromancy. There wasn¡¯t enough space left to even think about the words the fey had passed along or why it had needed to say those words, never mind being alert enough to hunt a werewolf with blood magic.

    Even if the spell was working properly, which I had some doubts about considering the direction it was pointing, I couldn¡¯t go hunting today. I had to read the grimoire and figure out how to stop all this accidental necromancy.

    Rather than calling, I sent Mitchell an email. After that, I spent a few hours tiding up work that required more time than thought before heading home. I picked up a burger on the way and ate it sitting at my dining room table, trying to work up the courage to do what had to be done. A grand way to spend Friday night, especially since I expected to work through the weekend.

    After tidying up the kitchen and checking the front door locks twice, I couldn¡¯t put it off any longer. The grimoire slid out of its box like it wanted to be in my hand.

    Our last encounter hadn¡¯t filled me with optimism, so I gave the book a good look and a light probe. If there were any active spells, they were beyond my ability to detect.

    Taking a deep breath, I opened the book. A swirling script had replaced the runes.

    Daughter of Nekro,

    It seems you came to this book without proper introduction. I do hope you can understand the spell is intended to protect you and the rest of our blood. I apologize for the discomfort.

    Do not be ashamed of your powers, and do not fear them. You come from fierce and strong women who wielded their power over the dead. The knowledge we would have shared was rejected, and we were hunted.

    That is the history they want you to know. Of how we were evil creatures, too connected to the dead and not connected enough to the living. But it is not the full legacy. We brought peace to the living, spared their lives, and let the dead die again. Without us, the great battles of years past could have destroyed entire races. We were the instruments in preventing death.

    Now that heritage has come to you. Choose your legacy. Turn away, and you can never return. Accept your heritage and revel in power unmatched by any other witch. Betray your blood and feel the wrath of your clan.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    I do hope you continue, for in the powers of the Nekro, you will find marvels unlike any magics you have seen.

    Kelsey Nekro

    My fingers hovered over that name. A woman who had come before me, who had shared my power, and who had been crafty enough to lay a protection spell¡ªor perhaps vengeance would be a better term¡ªin the pages. A witch who had had an unparalleled control of her power.

    My hand trembled as I turned the page, but all it showed was a table of contents. I skipped past The History of the Nekro to The Basics of Making a Necromancer. The Foundation of Raising the Dead would be my next stop.

    I found the page and started reading. The answers were here somewhere. I just had to find them.

    Three pages into The Basics of Making a Necromancer, I understood what my mother had done to me. Raising the dead required a connection to death, or more power than any three witches had naturally. That¡¯s why she¡¯d deadened the nerves in my leg.

    The two wells of power didn¡¯t seem to be common, but a single line noted it could result from a witch¡¯s necromancy being bound. When the block against necromancy ended, it was normal for the two wells of powers to need integration. The book neglected to mention how to mix the two types of power.

    Typical.

    Even after nearly killing me, it was too much for them to hand over clear answers. Just once, I¡¯d like to pick up a truly useful grimoire.

    The Foundations of Raising the Dead was far more helpful, if not overflowing with good news. Like other magics, necromancy could be done with runes or will and focus. It wasn¡¯t the easiest way, but it was possible, and it fit with what I¡¯d done, however unintentionally. Bubble I¡¯d willed back to unlife. Jameson, well, desperation was a type of will, and I¡¯d regretted his death and needed help. Similarly with the fey, I¡¯d wanted answers the fey would know.

    On the bright side, I knew how to block magic acting out of will. That lesson had come early in life, but I¡¯d never extended the shield around my necromancy. The new shield scratched at my mind, but the feeling would fade as it became second nature.

    Nine pages later, after reading through the basics of raising, controlling, and laying the dead using runes, salt, steel, and herbs, my brain hurt. Centuries old writing, with its flourishes and nonstandard spelling, didn¡¯t make for the easiest reading.

    My temples throbbed, and I stowed the grimoire in its hiding spot. Tomorrow, I¡¯d do more reading. Right now, I needed some fresh air, and I hadn¡¯t collected my mail today. Or yesterday.

    As I headed down the stairs, information swirled around my head. The dead, types of undead, and the runes for raising or laying them. I¡¯d figured out I already had the basic supplies. So that was another bit of good news.

    At my mailbox, I tugged the letters out one by one, stopping when I found an all-too-familiar printed label.

    Could I not have one day without problems piling up? Just one where I could sleep till my alarm and not worry about the dead coming back to life, a surprisingly sophisticated flesh-hungry werewolf, or my stalker.

    I ripped into the envelope. Two slender strips of paper fell into my hand. The edges were uneven and dotted with fragments of printed characters, like they had been cut out of a much longer letter.

    Was I not pretty enough for you? If I put on tight pants and braid my hair will you look at me the way you look at that elf?

    First that man drives you home. Drives Fabian! Then you go out with that elf? Neither are your species. You can¡¯t have a real relationship with them!

    I read those words over and over, taking in the font, the size, and the bits of type from the rest. Nothing about the page or the print was unique. The anger in the words was new. As was the direct acknowledgment that he was following me, watching me.

    My heart raced. I¡¯d likely seen him this week but hadn¡¯t known it was him.

    A distant part of my brain knew the statistics. I¡¯d learned them at college not long before the first letter and had heard them again in training. It had always been more likely than not that I knew the stalker.

    Faces of men I¡¯d known since childhood flashed through my mind, as did those of near-strangers. One of them had sent me these letters.

    ¡°Kelsey? What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    Pale hands plucked the strips of paper off my palm.

    ¡°I see.¡± Randolf¡¯s voice could¡¯ve shattered ice. ¡°Come with me.¡±

    He gathered up my mail and guided me down the stairs to his domain. His hand was cold against my elbow.

    Randolf settled me into a chair, tucking a blanket around me. He moved into the kitchen at vampire speed and then was back. He held my hands in his, creating points of cold I could focus on. Distantly, a kettle whistled.

    He zipped away again but was back in moments with a steaming cup of still-brewing tea and a flask. He wrapped my hands around the warm cup and waited.

    When the cup was too hot to hold comfortably, I set it on the table between our chairs. ¡°He never said anything like that before.¡±

    ¡°He said enough to scare you.¡± He uncapped the flask and poured a healthy amount of whiskey into the tea. ¡°You showed me the first letter, and others.¡±

    ¡°But none of them were like this. They were always complete letters. Why would he cut out portions unless he was afraid to send me the rest?¡± I snatched the mug off the table and took a sip, wincing at the temperature. The whiskey chased it down my throat, adding heat of a different kind.

    Randolf frowned and bolted to the kitchen. He came back with an open tin of chocolate chip cookies. ¡°I don¡¯t know, and neither do you.¡±

    ¡°But it would be your guess too.¡± The cookie was so soft and deliciously chewy.

    ¡°What I know and guess are different. I know you should file another report, keep the case open.¡± He slipped the flask in his pocket. ¡°Guesses? I have many, none of which are likely to help.¡±

    The whiskey was starting to do its job. It didn¡¯t take away the fear, but it blunted the feeling. The stalker hadn¡¯t said he would hurt me, not that they always did, and it was a long way from this letter to the types of things I¡¯d studied. ¡°Maybe, I should, but what if it¡¯s like the others? I stopped adding to the report because there wasn¡¯t any evidence. Not so much as a stray fingerprint.¡±

    ¡°Anger can cloud judgment. This could be the mistake you need,¡± Randolf countered.

    ¡°Maybe.¡± But it had the same feel, as if it was cleaner than should¡¯ve been possible. And, now that I had a bit of distance¡ªand whiskey¡ªbetween the surprise and me, I had bigger concerns. ¡°He could be a danger to you or the other residents. When I finish with this case, I¡¯ll renew the perimeter spell.¡±

    ¡°That would be wise.¡± He patted my knee. ¡°I will stay sharp when I¡¯m awake.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I set the mug down and took Randolf¡¯s hands in mine. ¡°Thank you for being the friend I needed.¡± As well as the quasi-father, protector, and guardian. I swallowed, trying to push back tears that were too close to the surface.

    He squeezed my hands. ¡°That is what friends do.¡±

    I gave him my best smile, which right then wasn¡¯t that wonderful. Maybe it was the stalker, or the raging werewolf, or the necromancy, or even all three that kept the smile from going all the way to my eyes.

 Chapter 24

    After more whiskey and cookies, Randolf helped me back to my apartment. He handed me the mail, looked me in the eye, and said, ¡°You are more than he knows. You can protect yourself.¡± He closed the door behind him.

    The letter from him went in the box, and the rest of the mail landed on the table. Before I crawled into bed, I peeked out the window. Randolf tended the garden under the light of the moon. I was safe. Secure in that knowledge, I slept.

    ¡­Until my phone rang.

    ¡°Pine.¡± I wasn¡¯t sure I sounded human.

    ¡°Agent Pine?¡± Mitchell had to be part machine to sound so alert this time of night.

    Not that I knew the time. I squinted at the clock. Three was an unnatural hour to be awake, especially since it had been after eleven when I had gone to bed. ¡°Yes?¡± I cleared my throat. ¡°What can I do for you?¡±

    ¡°Another dead deer, but this time a shifter was attacked too.¡± She rattled off an address on the west side of town. ¡°How soon can you get here?¡±

    ¡°An hour? I need to swing by work for the charm.¡± And trade Fabian for the department car.

    ¡°Try for less.¡± Mitchell hesitated. ¡°This isn¡¯t your fault or mine for not going hunting with the charm.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll believe that if the charm fails,¡± I told a dead line.

    With a groan and more than a few rude words about the hour, I got out of bed. I dug a hangover remedy out of the back of my medicine cabinet and downed that before anything else.

    Nearly half an hour later, with a travel mug of hot tea in one hand and a bagel in the other, I headed out. It took exactly thirty-five minutes for me to retrieve the charm, swap cars, and drive the rest of the way to a rundown strip mall on the west side of town.

    Between the gift shop and golf store, they didn¡¯t look the type to be open late. I parked at the edge of the lot and grabbed the restocked purification kit. Glancing around, I saw a lot of police but not Mitchell. The first officer I asked directed me to a waiting ambulance.

    I found it, back doors open, and three paramedics surrounding a muscular man with short cropped hair and a bloodstained shirt sitting on the back. Mitchell stood over them, arms folded across her chest.

    Even before I switched my sight over, I could feel the corruption. Sure enough, he was coated in blood magic, which was slowly transferring to the people around him.

    ¡°Pine, you made it.¡± She tipped her head toward the man. ¡°He keeps trying to leave, seems agitated. Is he contaminated?¡±

    ¡°Him and the paramedics.¡± I tugged the rune embroidered cloth out of its pouch.

    ¡°Clean them up. Maybe then I can get real answers,¡± Mitchell grumbled.

    I¡¯d never tried to make a salt circle from the ground to the back of a car, but it worked just fine. The purification didn¡¯t take as much magic as I¡¯d feared, and I felt like I had enough in the tank for a few more rituals before I needed to rest.

    When I finished, Mitchell crouched down next to the man. ¡°Ricker, what were you doing out here? Your ID says you live in Virginia.¡±

    ¡°I told you, looking for a place to do laundry. My suitcase got wet, and I don¡¯t want to wear musty clothes.¡± He glared at her.

    ¡°At two-thirty in the morning?¡± She sounded incredulous.

    He shrugged. ¡°Still close to the full moon. I didn¡¯t want to shift, but I couldn¡¯t sleep. Seemed like a good time to do laundry.¡±

    ¡°Did you hear about the problem we¡¯re having with a rogue werewolf? Do you see how this all looks suspicious to me?¡±

    I was with Mitchell. Well, mostly with her. He¡¯d had the same feeling as everything else that had been contaminated, but he wasn¡¯t the source, of that much I was sure.

    He held up a bandaged arm. ¡°I showed you the bite. It wasn¡¯t me!¡±

    ¡°You could¡¯ve bitten yourself.¡± Mitchell sighed. ¡°All I want is the truth.¡±

    Ricker leaned close. ¡°And I want a lawyer.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± She handcuffed him. ¡°We¡¯ll give you a ride to interrogation, and you¡¯ll get a lawyer.¡±

    He protested the entire way to the police cruiser, not that it did any good. Mitchell watched the car drive away before coming back. ¡°Well, I¡¯d hoped the purification would help.¡±

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    ¡°Sorry. It doesn¡¯t change a person.¡±

    ¡°Pity.¡± She rubbed her face with both hands. ¡°I¡¯ll walk you through everything. I suspect that won¡¯t be the last purification you do this morning.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought too.¡± I needed to figure out how to store energy better. At this rate, I wouldn¡¯t survive two weeks with the bureau.

    Mitchell led me to a car parked in front of Crazy Coins. Across the windows, the word Arcade did its best to cover as much territory as possible. That explained Mitchell¡¯s disdain for Ricker¡¯s story about washing his clothing. While I could see a logic to Crazy Coins being a laundromat. I didn¡¯t get why Ricker would get out of the car and walk around when the window clearly stated the real nature.

    But from the way the blood trail came toward the car and coated the door handle, he¡¯d done just that before returning. Since the hows and whys weren¡¯t really my problem, I skipped that and checked the magic. It was contaminated too.

    ¡°How long is the blood trail?¡± Even with the spell embroidered into the cloth and the salt mixture, I might not have enough in me to purify everything if the area was large enough.

    ¡°It runs across the rest of the parking lot, around the building, and to the edge of that strip of woods.¡± Mitchell pointed into the darkness.

    I sighed. ¡°I need to walk it before I purify anything else. It may be too much for me to do in one go.¡±

    ¡°If it is? What then?¡± Mitchell started walking, staying well to the side of the blood.

    ¡°We make hard decisions.¡± The blood trail shone with the dark smudges of blood magic.

    ¡°Like how much you purify or if we bring in another witch?¡± Mitchell clicked on her flashlight as we stepped off the pavement.

    ¡°The second one.¡±

    She swore.

    I didn¡¯t blame her. The point of hiring me had been to reduce the department¡¯s magic-related costs. No one would be happy if they had to pay for another witch¡¯s time in my first week as a special agent.

    ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out.¡±

    Away from the lights, both flashing and part of the strip mall, the blood blended into the darkness. I could feel it, but without the carefully set out flags, I doubted Mitchell would¡¯ve been able to steer clear. The dead deer seemed to appear out of the darkness. The area around it was coated in blood, but surprisingly little of the flesh had been eaten.

    I didn¡¯t know if that was good or bad. Maybe the werewolf was outlasting the effects of the spell. ¡°How did Ricker say he ran into the werewolf?¡±

    ¡°He was fuzzy on that point.¡± Mitchell said dryly. ¡°At one point he said he had to go to the bathroom, and it jumped out at him. When I asked him for more details later, he had to remember he¡¯d gone to the bathroom.¡±

    ¡°Like anyone would forget they were taking some personal time when a werewolf attacked.¡± I rolled my eyes.

    ¡°Right?¡± Mitchell snickered.

    My amusement faded quickly when I looked back at the strip mall. From here, Ricker¡¯s car seemed far away. Much further than I would¡¯ve walked to use the bathroom. With that large of an area, it was more than I could purify if I wanted to be able to cast another spell today. ¡°I¡¯ve seen enough. Let¡¯s get back.¡±

    She waited until we were away from the deer to ask, ¡°Bad news?¡±

    ¡°Hard choices.¡± When I¡¯d been training, the idea had been that I¡¯d report to a superior when situations like this cropped up. That had held up until Monday when Floyd attacked me and the chain of command got weird.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s my choice, Smith¡¯s, or yours.¡± My foot landed on the asphalt, and I turned to face her. ¡°I can purify this, but I won¡¯t be good for much else today, and I¡¯ll be tired tomorrow. Is it worth it, or does the department pay for a witch¡¯s time so I can help track and stay in the field?¡±

    Mitchell opened her mouth and then closed it. ¡°Well¡­ Narzel blast.¡±

    ¡°I can purify this, but the area... It¡¯s huge. And there¡¯s no good way to scale it down.¡± This was why witches liked working with their clan. There was always someone else to help with a spell. With the TBI, it was me and me, even when me wasn¡¯t enough.

    ¡°One of us has to call Smith.¡± She eyed the mass of people clustering under the lights. ¡°That decision is above my pay grade.¡±

    ¡°Your case. You put in the request.¡± And, that spared me from being the one to wake him up in the middle of the night.

    She glared at me before pulling her phone out of her pocket and poking the screen with more force than strictly necessary.

    I moved a few feet away, enough to give her some room but still close enough that she could ask a question without announcing it to every person here.

    A few minutes later, she held the phone out to me. ¡°He wants to talk to you.¡±

    I took the phone with a sigh. ¡°Pine speaking.¡±

    ¡°You sure about this?¡± Smith got right to the point.

    ¡°I¡¯m as sure as I can be without doing the spell. If you want me in the field, I need help. If that isn¡¯t a priority, I can do the spell and be off duty for at least a day.¡± Given that the sun still hadn¡¯t risen and I¡¯d love a full night¡¯s rest, I revised my estimate. ¡°Day and a half.¡±

    ¡°Hand me back to Mitchell.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± I shoved the phone at her, grateful other people, responsible and mature agents, could make the choice.

    Mitchell took the phone and a few ¡°yes, sirs¡± later, hung up. ¡°He¡¯s going to call in another witch. Or see if there¡¯s one available on this short of notice.¡±

    ¡°Until the other witch shows up, do I hunt the werewolf or wait?¡± Last time I¡¯d looked at the charm, back at work, it had pointed in this general direction. The werewolf could still be nearby.

    ¡°We wait. Processing the scene hinges on the purification, so it has to come first.¡± Mitchell started walking toward a group of police.

    ¡°Got it.¡± I trailed along behind her. The police were just as excited as me to spend their time waiting. We¡¯d only been watching the stars, what few we could see past the light, for ten minutes when Mitchell¡¯s phone rang. Smith had found a witch, and they¡¯d be here in half an hour. It was a long half hour, during which my mind had too much fun. Given how my week had been going, I wouldn¡¯t get Dad or anyone else easy to work with. Nope, the witch would be a traditionalist who hated that I¡¯d gone a different direction from my clan.

    What felt like ages later, a car pulled into the lot. The tags were local, and it didn¡¯t look like a rental. There weren¡¯t that many witches living in Nashville. Most of them were from my clan, and all of them hated me.

    Any doubt that the vehicle belonged to a witch vanished when a man stepped out of the car with a wand in his hand. It wasn¡¯t until he walked under a light that I started to curse. Perfect. Just who I wanted to see.

    ¡°Kelsey.¡± Jamie flashed that same charming smile. ¡°I heard you could use a hand.¡±

 Chapter 25

    ¡°Jamie, what are you doing here?¡± And why, of all people, him? There hadn¡¯t been anyone else? Dad would¡¯ve come help without charging if the department was this hard up.

    ¡°You must not have heard. I have clearance. I¡¯ve been doing all the spells on government buildings in town, and the job has some perks.¡± His eyes focused past my shoulder. ¡°That is a mess. I see why you need the help.¡±

    ¡°Our clan doesn¡¯t do police contracts. Buildings, yes, but not this.¡± Narzel blast them. If they had, maybe I¡¯d still be a good little witch who followed directions.

    He kept smiling. ¡°Things change. When I took the contract, there was a clause that I could be called for other things when the government groups needed help. Thus.¡± He grinned winsomely and shrugged.

    ¡°Great.¡± I tried to smile, but it felt more like I was baring my teeth. ¡°We¡¯ll walk the area and then start. Do you mind using my salt mix for the purification spell?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    ¡°Dandy.¡± I headed for my car as Mitchell came over to talk to him. By the time I returned with another bag of salt, she was chatting cheerfully. He had that effect on women.

    ¡°Your salt,¡± I said, breaking into their conversation without a hint of subtlety.

    Mitchell¡¯s brows pulled together, but my interruption didn¡¯t bother Jamie. He took the bag of salt and motioned toward the crime scene. ¡°This is your area of expertise. Lead the way.¡± He smiled, again.

    ¡°Car first.¡± Behind me, I heard him make polite excuses to Mitchell before jogging to catch up.

    ¡°You¡¯re grumpy this morning.¡±

    ¡°Four hours of sleep makes Kelsey a dull girl.¡±

    ¡°Grumpy isn¡¯t the same as dull.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t had a full night¡¯s sleep since I woke up Monday morning.¡± Before he could ask another question, I launched into a description of what I thought we needed to do. From the car, along the path to the deer, I explained salting, and the spell enhancer I¡¯d made and how it worked. While explaining the embroidered runes, I glanced over and found him smiling at me. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°One year, you embroidered a border on a scarf. Told me it would never unravel or blow away, and it never did.¡± He lost the seductive edge, and for a moment, he was the boy whose last name I doodled next to mine in notebooks. ¡°I never thought about what else you could do with embroidery.¡±

    ¡°Stop.¡± It came out too sharp, even to my ears, but I couldn¡¯t think about those times, not now. ¡°Sorry. Um, this next part, it isn¡¯t just bloody. Remember when we¡¯d go on picnics with the family, and Mom would take the others hunting and then bring it back so we could eat together even if we weren¡¯t eating the same thing?¡±

    That memory faded his smile. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°This next part is like one of their kills halfway through them eating, okay?¡± He¡¯d dealt well enough with the gore back then, but people could change, and it wouldn¡¯t do for him to vomit on the crime scene.

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    ¡°I¡¯ll manage.¡± He motioned for me to lead the way.

    We walked the rest of the way in silence. He studied the dead deer, and if it bothered him, it didn¡¯t show.

    ¡°Can we get started?¡±

    All the easy charm was gone. ¡°Blood magic and stimulant spells? You need help.¡±

    ¡°I do not need the clan! The rest of the bureau is on this. We¡¯ll get the wolf.¡± Four years of college, two of training, and I still wasn¡¯t good enough.

    ¡°Four days of this isn¡¯t a winning track record, Kelsey.¡±

    I grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the officers who seemed a little too interested in our conversation. ¡°You¡¯ll get paid, what do you care? This is my job, and I¡¯ll see to it that every person behind this is brought to justice.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s too much for one witch.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s too much for some witches. I¡¯ll be fine.¡± I glared up at him. ¡°If you don¡¯t have useful information about the magic fragments, shut up and help me purify the area.¡±

    He backed away, his face inscrutable. ¡°I take it you want to do the entire area at once?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the plan.¡± I eyed him warily. As a boy, he hadn¡¯t simply agreed.

    ¡°Then we have a lot to do.¡± He opened the bag of salt.

    I readied my own and joined him at the forest side of the deer. ¡°Shall we?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    We each started sprinkling, overlapping at first in case there were any differences in the batches of salt before continuing down each side. We went all the way to the far end of the car without speaking. That should¡¯ve made me happy, but instead I wondered how he¡¯d changed over the years.

    ¡°You should take lead. It¡¯s your spell, you know it better than anyone.¡± He handed me the empty bag of salt.

    I tucked it into my kit and got out the embroidered cloth. I tried to find a good reason to have him lead the spell. There wasn¡¯t one. ¡°Fine.¡± I¡¯d have to lower my shields and let him in, when a single slip would give him a peek at my thoughts and the well of necromancy.

    The corner of his mouth twisted in what could¡¯ve been another smile. He stripped off his gloves and came up behind me. ¡°Relax. We¡¯ve done this a thousand times.¡±

    I wanted to say that was a lifetime ago when I was a different person and so was he.

    His fingers pressed against each side of my neck. Warm spots against a cool morning. His magic brushed against my skin.

    Sweet bones of Narzel. Don¡¯t let me regret this.

    With the smallest adjustment to match magics, he was inside my shields, a warm buzz of power, and a gentle press of encouragement.

    With a single rune, the cloth levitated to above the car. It took hardly more than a stray thought for him to power the boundary shield. Magic slid between us until Jamie regulated it, feeding power to me.

    The magic evened out and I triggered the purification spell. Magic poured out of both of us, filling the spell until it flowed over in a glorious wash of gold. I throttled the power output, and he reduced what he offered to match.

    When the car was free of the corruption, I levitated the cloth down the salt corridor. Jamie stayed with me every step of the way as we purified the area. He even held the connection when I tripped over a stone, and for a moment we lost skin contact.

    By the deer, I had to feed more magic into the spell. It cleaned the area, and I cut off the purification. Purified magic, just a touch, flowed back, and with it went the fatigue of the early morning.

    ¡°Done?¡± His breath warmed my ear.

    No, I wanted this moment, when I wasn¡¯t afraid or stressed or tired, to last. Before the thought lured me to things best left alone, I said, ¡°Yes.¡±

    The warmth of his power withdrew, and he lifted his fingers away.

    Cool air flowed over the spots on my neck, making me shiver. As much as I wanted to reach out, have that peace back, if only for a moment, I reset my shields as I turned to face him. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    The spell had taken about as much magic as I¡¯d thought, but sharing the burden had left both of us with plenty in reserve.

    ¡°It was a pleasure. Call me any time.¡± His smile hearkened back to memories of us, but he turned away.

    Watching him talk with Mitchell, I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d made the right choice. Maybe I should¡¯ve said something. Maybe he wasn¡¯t as bad as I¡¯d thought. Maybe love didn¡¯t die the way I¡¯d always believed.

    He drove away, and I hoped this time he stayed away for years. One day, I truly wouldn¡¯t care. One day.

 Chapter 26

    Charm in hand, pacing the length of the strip mall in predawn light, it occurred to me that my tracking charms hadn¡¯t been living up to expectations. From the front of the buildings, this thing had indicated to go to the back. From the back, it pointed to the front. Since there hadn¡¯t been any broken doors or windows, I hadn¡¯t a clue how it thought the werewolf was inside.

    It locked onto the shop directly in front of me. Small letters on the back door read, ¡°Pro Swing Golf Supplies.¡± It might have been a trendy place to shop twenty years ago, but this strip mall had seen better days. The area wasn¡¯t drawing in customers willing to drop top dollar on a set of clubs.

    I motioned the cops over. ¡°Same shop. My guess is he¡¯s in there.¡±

    They got on their radios, and I ended up back in the parking lot munching on a disappointing granola bar¡ªwhy were they always crunchy?¡ªwhile we waited for SWAT. It had been deemed too risky for us regular officers to go in.

    At least the tea was good. The bathroom options less so, but the arcade was the only shop I had access to with a bathroom, so I was properly grateful and used hand sanitizer from my car since the soap dispenser didn¡¯t dispense.

    SWAT arrived with the sun. They also refused to take me in, which seemed like a mistake to me. Given what had happened to the guy at Get Magic Goods after limited contact, I would¡¯ve wanted the witch who could counter spells leading the charge, but it wasn¡¯t my call. Instead, I got a nice front row spot to watch them breach the door.

    While SWAT was gearing up, Nash and his assistant were leaving with the deer. Mitchell hadn¡¯t even called him until after Jamie and I had purified the place. He hadn¡¯t seemed thrilled, but I noticed he hadn¡¯t protested the extra sleep. SWAT didn¡¯t seem to want him around, something about unnecessary risk and getting evidence away before anything could contaminate it.

    Nash¡¯s van took a left out of the parking lot, and SWAT started marching toward the door. From the guy talking into the radio, I figured the team at the back was moving too.

    They breached the front door and charged in. I held my breath. The charm had to be accurate, or it would be my ass on the line when it came to explaining just why the SWAT team busted into Pro Swing.

    A shadow angled across the parking lot in front of the store. The uneven shape drew my attention. Turing my eyes skyward, I searched for the bird or whatever caused it.

    Movement pulled my attention back to the building. The shadow changed again, and I spotted a person on the roof. My first thought was that SWAT sure covered their bases, though in this case, it seemed like they were putting an officer in danger if bullets went flying.

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    Then the shape turned. Morning light clearly displayed the misshapen head, trapped between wolf and human. The rest of the body hunched and moved as if it too was between forms. Then the werewolf started running across the roof toward the forest.

    ¡°He¡¯s on the roof!¡± I bellowed as I yanked my wand out of the sheath. I took off after him, angling toward the far end of the strip. Ideally, I should stop him before then, but if he went off the back side of the building, he¡¯d be gone before I could catch up.

    A gunshot drowned out my heartbeat for a moment. I wasn¡¯t sure where the bullet went, but it didn¡¯t slow CJ.

    Two more followed. The magic around him rippled in a way I doubted I could replicate in a controlled setting, never mind while running across a building, and the bullets passed through him.

    ¡°Hold fire! Hold fire! Ineffective due to magic!¡± I screamed.

    CJ was only two shops away from the end. If I didn¡¯t do something now, he could get away. I had to stop him. ¡°Sowil Haglaz!¡±

    A spherical containment spell sprang to life around CJ. He slammed into the magical barrier and stumbled back, one hand pressed against the spell.

    Wand up, I slowed to a walk and sucked in air. How far and how long I could run on a treadmill never compared to in the field with the added stresses and adrenaline.

    CJ regained his footing and cocked his head to the side. His entire body angled forward as he leaned into the spell. Around him, the mix of blood magic and the stimulant spell twisted. His hand pushed through the wall of the sphere.

    I swore. It wasn¡¯t going to hold. Without a way to compensate for the spells on him, it would be risky to try any other containment spell.

    He pushed all the way through, and the tip of his tail wagged.

    ¡°Algiz!¡± The invisible ropes of magic that encircled him pulled his arms against his body and bound his ankles together. It was a long shot, but maybe it would hold long enough for me to think of a more complex spell.

    That hope lived all of two frantic heartbeats before the blood magic started to eat them.

    I shoved more power into the spell. The ropes continued to disintegrate. Forgetting the type of magic on him, I reinforced the ropes with my power, not focused through runes, but through my will and magic.

    For an instant, the spells on him faded, and CJ¡¯s fear beat against my magic. Then the other spells and other magic returned, attacking mine, flowing from CJ to me.

    Before my mind could catch up with what was happening, the ropes melted away, and CJ leapt for the edge of the building. The connection between the two of us shattered, the blood magic attached to the backlash hurling toward me.

    A black blur moving so fast it had to be a non-human SWAT officer dashed to the end of the building.

    The blood magic rushed into me with the force of a concussive blast. My hand spasmed around my wand, dropping it. My butt hit the asphalt. I had just enough control left to roll with the hit and avoid direct head-to-asphalt contact. I didn¡¯t have enough air or time to warn off the SWAT officer before he tackled CJ.

    As the blood magic mingled with my own, my vision flickered. Before it went red and hazy, I saw the magic pour into the swat officer. Now two shifters were contaminated. Just perfect.

 Chapter 27

    A fierce battle raged inside me.

    The blood magic¡¯s corruption spread through my power and from there through my body. By design or accident, it took my vision and other senses first. Time and my physical location fell away.

    The first assault had caught me unprepared, but after that, I dug in. My body, my magic, and it was going to stay mine.

    With more force than finesse, I managed to divide my power and block the blood magic from a third of what was left. It wasn¡¯t much, but I¡¯d make it work.

    The blood magic seemed to have a strange type of intelligence. With almost all of me under its control, sensation started to return. The hard surface under me was most likely the asphalt I¡¯d been on when the blood magic took over. Hopefully that meant not too much time had passed, and I hadn¡¯t done too much damage.

    Next came other parts of my body. My wand was back in my hand. Since my last memory was of it being some distance away, the blood magic had pulled it back to me.

    Sight would¡¯ve been great, but next I reconnected with my legs. Unlike the rest of me, which was under a blanket of not me, a war was still happening in my left leg. The dead spot and its necromancy were holding off the blood magic.

    If I could reach my necromancy without contaminating it, maybe I could figure out a way to use it against the blood magic. It was a long shot, but it was the best option I had right now.

    From the part of me unsullied by the corruption, I formed an arrow with a single mission: to get to my necromancy. Using most of my limited supply of power, I encased it in layer upon layer of unconnected shields. Each one would burn away, leaving pure magic underneath. If I¡¯d made enough of them, the magic under them would reach my necromancy without bringing along the corruption. If not, then I¡¯d get a front seat to see what happened when blood magic controlled necromancy. If that unhappy eventuality came to be, I could time just how fast everyone would kill me. Given the disaster of this week, it was par for the course.

    If breathing had still been under my control, I would¡¯ve held my breath when I released the spell. Instead, I let it go and hoped.

    The shields vanished faster than expected, and by the time it bumped into the edge of the dead area, blood magic coated the outside.

    It burned through the blood magic between it and the dead spot and surged forward.

    The instant my magic and just my magic touched the dead area, my necromancy roared out of its hidey-hole with the force of a winter blizzard.

    For a moment, I was sure I¡¯d made a terrible mistake.

    Then sensation returned to my left leg, or to as much of it as had ever had sensation. The blood magic was gone.

    My necromancy blasted through the rest of me, eating the blood magic wherever it went. It even drifted through my well of magic and chased down every bit of corruption hiding in there.

    Blue sky appeared above me, and soon after, the rest of my senses returned. Ignoring the necromancy continuing to swirl through me and my sudden awareness of a dead raccoon by the road, I pushed myself up.

    My head swam, and the images went out of focus.

    The necromancy settled down, with most of it returning to its hidden retreat. The remainder stayed spread throughout my body and even in my well of magic.

    The images united into one. Two officers were on the ground, blood pooling around them. CJ was gone. Maybe the SWAT on the other side of the mall had gotten him, but my concern was for the people racing for the officers. Even from here, I could see the blood magic on them.

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    One of the injured officers twitched and fur appeared over his skin.

    ¡°Narzel Blast.¡± The earth felt like it tilted under me as I got to my feet. ¡°Sowil.¡± I added color to it so no one would hit it. On second thought, I added a division to the containment spell so the injured officers could reach each other.

    Still unsteady on my feet, I focused on my goal. Unlike everyone racing for the containment spell holding the two officers, I shuffled toward my car.

    If I could get the rest of my gear, I might be able to purify them and get healing charms working with the magic I had left. Until they were purified, paramedics couldn¡¯t touch them, and the blood magic would twist healing spells.

    ¡°Pine! Take it down!¡± Mitchell screamed.

    I ignored her and pulled the pouch of purification supplies out of the car. There wasn¡¯t much left, but it would have to do.

    ¡°Take it down, Pine! That¡¯s an order!¡± Mitchell sounded closer.

    Rather than figure out which charms I needed, I grabbed the bag of them. My body ached, but I wasn¡¯t swaying and managed to jog toward the officers.

    Mitchell met me half way, her cheeks flushed and a vein pulling in her temple. ¡°They¡¯re dying! Take it down.¡±

    In one half of the shield, a pile of shredded clothing and gear was under a wearbear¡¯s feet as it clawed at the divider.

    I ran faster.

    On the other side, an elf contorted and screamed.

    ¡°Pine, answer me!¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t take it down until they¡¯re purified, or it¡¯ll spread.¡± Feeling the interior division sag under the bear¡¯s attack, I picked up the pace.

    The bag of healing charms ended up abandoned as I rushed to lay a circle of salt around the officers. I ripped the bag for my rune embroidered cloth in my hurry to get it out. Then I had it levitating. With a tweak to the containment spell, the energy could pass but not the officers. I powered up the purification ritual and hoped I had enough to see it through.

    All but the fraction of my magic still mixed with the necromancy poured into the spell. It cycled in a wash of light, though not as bright as it had been before. I ran out of magic to offer as the last of the corruption faded away.

    The containment spell collapsed as the cloth floated back to me. I shoved it in the pouch and grabbed the bag of healing charms.

    The bear had given up on trying to get to the elf and sat, holding its upper body stiffly. From this side, he looked fine, but when I moved to his other side, his fur was matted with blood. CJ had taken a chunk out of the officer¡¯s shoulder, and his arm was crisscrossed with lacerations from claws.

    That required a major healing charm, which I swiped the edge of through the blood oozing out of his shoulder before awkwardly setting it on his leg.

    The elf was chalky. It was the better part of his current look. His chest had been shredded. Given the amount of blood loss, I was surprised he was still breathing and his heart was still beating. It wasn¡¯t difficult to find an area still seeping and catch a drop of blood on the edge of two healing charms. One went at the base of his throat and the other near his hip.

    Until those charms had run their course, that was all I could do for him. Ambulance sirens penetrated the fog I¡¯d been in, and I backed away from the officer, gathering up my supplies and my wand as I went.

    Mitchell stepped in front of me, arms crossed, face hard. ¡°What happened here? Why didn¡¯t you follow direct orders?¡±

    The first three answers that came to mind were snarky and rude. The fourth wasn¡¯t much better. Aside from a sharp tongue, inside I was empty and numb. ¡°You¡¯ll have to be more specific.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you do more to stop the werewolf? When did you know he was on the roof?¡± It sounded like she was talking through clenched teeth.

    ¡°Contrary to any belief you have about my history, this is the first blood-magic-controlled werewolf I¡¯ve come across. I didn¡¯t know it could avoid bullets and walk through spells.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t answer either of my questions.¡±

    I sighed, perhaps too loudly given the way Mitchell¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°I didn¡¯t know he was on the roof until I shouted that very information. I had no reason to suspect he was up there. Why would I? Charms don¡¯t do well with elevation changes like that.¡±

    She stared at me.

    A trickle of anger replaced the numb sensation. ¡°I did try to stop him. I¡¯m not sure what else I should¡¯ve tried. In the ample free time I have, I¡¯ll do some research.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re responsible for two officers¡¯ injuries.¡± She motioned to where paramedics swarmed around the werebear and elf. ¡°They could¡¯ve been killed! They could still die.¡±

    That right there had always been the clan¡¯s argument against directly working with police. They didn¡¯t understand how magic worked. At times like this, the gap between Mitchell and myself was too large.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t claw them. I didn¡¯t corrupt them with blood magic. Their injuries aren¡¯t my fault.¡±

    Mitchell opened her mouth but whatever she was going to say was lost under a steely baritone. ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡± Agent Smith stepped between us. ¡°I want to talk to both of you.¡±

    ¡°Mitchell, handle the scene.¡± His eyes locked with mine, and I froze like a deer in headlights. ¡°You first, Pine.¡±

    Perfect. Out of magic, so tired I could feel myself swaying, and I was going to get rebuked by another boss. Happy first week as a Special Agent.

 Chapter 28

    ¡°Are you listening to me?¡± Smith loomed over me, not intentionally. At his size, looming was how he appeared to average-sized people.

    As much as I wanted to say yes, lying to the boss seldom worked out well. ¡°Not as closely as I should¡¯ve been, sir.¡±

    Smith rocked back on his heels. ¡°And why not?¡±

    ¡°Because I think CJ is a victim. Other than the first night, he hasn¡¯t killed anyone, and the spells on him felt different than on the others I¡¯ve examined.¡± As soon as I was done, I knew I¡¯d made a mistake.

    ¡°Any evidence?¡±

    And there it was. ¡°No, sir. I didn¡¯t have a chance to examine the spells in detail.¡±

    Smith gave me that look, and I felt about as big as an amoeba. ¡°He¡¯s proved dangerous. We need to capture or kill him.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± If I could¡¯ve vanished right there, I would¡¯ve.

    ¡°Now, as I was saying, the DNA results are back. They matched the blood typing, so the rogue is CJ. We¡¯re working on contacting any family, but so far, no luck.¡± He glanced around and lowered his voice. ¡°I did get a call from a very concerned client of his who happens to be based out of that government lab east of town. CJ was in the middle of doing custom work for them. They¡¯re very interested to hear the results of our investigation and if there¡¯s any chance all of this could represent a security threat for them.¡±

    My ear perked up. For the first time, we had a hint of a motive. ¡°Were they willing to say what he was making? Or how sensitive the project is?¡±

    ¡°The individual I spoke to had selective hearing, and those questions were deselected.¡±

    Typical.

    ¡°However, I will be reviewing all the case reports.¡± His voice returned to its usual volume. ¡°It would be nice if we could get more information about the fey.¡±

    ¡°Still unidentified?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Smith pursed his lips. ¡°Pine, I don¡¯t have magic, but I¡¯ve worked with witches before. I know this mess wasn¡¯t your fault. I know without you it would¡¯ve been worse, but...¡±

    ¡°People hear ¡®witch,¡¯ and they think ¡®miracle worker.¡¯¡± I fiddled with my wand. ¡°I¡¯ll try to do better.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all I ask.¡± He patted my shoulder. ¡°Write up the report, and then get yourself home. Rest up, and be ready. This isn¡¯t over yet.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    Smith grinned as I walked back to my car. My tone must not have been as professional as I¡¯d thought. Narzel fart.

    At work, I found an official-looking email stating Floyd was suspended for the next two weeks while an investigation happened, at which time I was welcome to observe the hearing where they¡¯d decide his fate.

    Considering how this week had gone, being alive in two weeks would be a feat. After dutifully adding the hearing to my calendar, I firmly filed the event under Problems for Later.

    The report went as well as they ever do, and by lunch I was chowing down a medium pizza in my PJs while watching a rerun of Mermaid Shores. Three mermaids were bickering over a hunky merman when someone knocked on my door.

    A slice of pizza landed back in the box with a thud, and I pulled my wand out of its sheath without pausing to wipe off my hand. Randolf was dead this time of day, and like me, most of the residents should be at work. So who would be knocking now?

    They pounded on my door again. ¡°Kelsey? Are you there? I saw your car. Please let me in.¡±

    ¡°Aww, Narzel.¡± Snagging a napkin off the pile, I cleaned the pizza grease off my wand. Ignoring my brother¡¯s renewed knocking, I tucked it back into the sheath before I unlocked my door. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    Drew brushed a tear away with the back of his hand and launched himself at me.

    I caught him and held him as he hugged me too tightly. Even as magically depleted as I was, it only took a nudge to push the door closed. It took a lot more effort to break the hug and set him up on the couch with a slice of pizza. Through it all, Drew didn¡¯t say anything about why he was here rather than at work or home with our parents, but I could be a patient hunter.

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    He was reaching for his second piece of pizza when I pounced. ¡°Not that I don¡¯t love to see you, but what are you doing here?¡±

    Drew¡¯s hand fell away from the box, and he squirmed. ¡°I want to stay with you for a few days.¡±

    Closing my eyes for a moment, I prayed to the earth for strength. Of all the times to stay with me, he picked now. Without a parent or even an overnight bag. ¡°And since neither Mom or Dad are with you, you got here how and told them what?¡±

    Drew scratched a frayed spot on his jeans.

    ¡°How did you get here, Drew?¡± Technically he was nearing adulthood, but he wasn¡¯t one yet. Which left me in an uncomfortable position. Being a good sister meant being more of a second mother. I was willing to bet real money the last thing he wanted was more parenting right now.

    He heaved a sigh. ¡°Walked to the bus station, then took another bus to this neighborhood. I walked the rest of the way.¡±

    ¡°From where? The house?¡±

    ¡°Yah, but they think I¡¯m going to a friend¡¯s.¡±

    On the bright side, that meant I only had to make one phone call. ¡°Did you leave a note for Mom and Dad?¡±

    He shook his head.

    It was my turn to sigh. ¡°You know I have to call them.¡±

    ¡°Do you?¡± He looked at me with pleading eyes.

    ¡°But as your big sister, I¡¯ll give you ten minutes to tell me why you¡¯re here before I call.¡±

    One eyebrow crept up. ¡°That¡¯s it? Ten minutes?¡±

    ¡°The big sister special.¡± I grinned, or maybe grimaced. If they knew he was missing, Mom and Dad would be worried. Since I hadn¡¯t gotten a call yet, they probably didn¡¯t know, and they wouldn¡¯t until he was due home.

    ¡°Whatever.¡± He rolled his eyes and reached for a slice of pizza.

    I whacked his hand and tugged the box onto my lap. ¡°You crashed my pizza party. I¡¯ll share after you talk.¡± I chomped down on a slice and stared at him as I chewed.

    Drew flopped back against the back of the couch. ¡°Whatever.¡±

    ¡°Nine minutes.¡± Turning the slice around, I bit into the stuffed crust.

    ¡°Last night, they found out I lied about applying to college.¡±

    I kept eating pizza.

    ¡°What¡¯s the big deal with college?¡± Drew scooted around to look at me. ¡°No one wanted you to go, but you did. I don¡¯t want to go, and it¡¯s all they can talk about.¡±

    ¡°Parents, man.¡± Big sistering at its finest.

    ¡°I think they¡¯re mad because I told them I took the application money and bought clay and a tiny bit of glaze.¡±

    Well... that wasn¡¯t what I¡¯d expected. To buy myself time, I finished off the slice of pizza.

    Drew lasted all of four breaths before he started explaining. ¡°Remember the vase I gave you for Christmas? I made it in art class, but then we stopped doing pottery, and I love pottery. So when I got my next pay check, I cashed it rather than depositing it.¡±

    Chewing kept me from commenting on just how happy that must¡¯ve made Mom and Dad.

    ¡°I moved my work hours around so I could go to a pottery studio and take some classes. When I wanted to start experimenting, I needed more clay, and glaze is frightfully expensive, so I re-purposed the application money.¡± He took a breath and kept going. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go to college. I want to be an artist. There¡¯re better studios here in the city, with better kilns. I can get a job and do the pottery on the side until it takes off. So, will you let me move in?¡±

    I choked on the pizza I was swallowing and grabbed for the water. Gulping it helped force the lump down my throat. Still coughing, I wheezed, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Can I move in?¡± He looked at me with big puppy-dog eyes.

    This wasn¡¯t a conversation for pizza. I needed something stronger.

    Eying the wine rack, I wished I didn¡¯t have to be the responsible older sister. I could end up driving him home, so no wine for me. With a sigh, I shoved the pizza box in his direction.

    ¡°Can we back up for a moment?¡±

    Drew nodded, his cheeks bulging with pizza.

    I chose my words carefully. ¡°Did you apply to any college?¡±

    He nodded and managed to say, ¡°Two-year school.¡±

    ¡°Did you get in? Just nod. I don¡¯t need to see your half-eaten food.¡±

    He bobbed his head.

    ¡°Grand.¡± He could use that when he talked to Mom and Dad. It wouldn¡¯t get him out of trouble, but it was better than nothing. ¡°I¡¯m guessing they have pottery classes. Do they have any business classes?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t know.¡± He finally swallowed and could talk like he had manners. ¡°But it has lots of art classes, including pottery.¡±

    ¡°And why can¡¯t you live with Mom and Dad while doing this?¡±

    ¡°The studio I¡¯m at only has a small kiln. Plus, Mom and Dad don¡¯t approve.¡±

    Staying at work would¡¯ve been more restful. ¡°That¡¯s not how this works. You¡¯re seventeen. You can¡¯t just leave.¡± I held up a hand when he started to protest. ¡°There¡¯s a better solution here if we look. Why did you apply to that school?¡±

    ¡°It had a lot of art classes, more than I can learn where I¡¯m at. The studio near the house only does basic stuff.¡±

    ¡°Did you ask if they would teach you more?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± He paused, pizza half way to his mouth. ¡°Should I have?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s fixable after we patch things together between you and the parentals.¡± I reached for my phone.

    ¡°You can¡¯t!¡± Drew started to lunge for me, but the pizza box slipped, and the slice in his hand drooped, threatening to lose the olives and pepperoni. He managed to save the box and the slice. ¡°You said I had ten minutes!¡±

    ¡°And I gave you fifteen.¡± I grabbed my phone but didn¡¯t make any move to call Mom or Dad. ¡°I have to tell them where you are, and then we¡¯ll talk about the adult art of compromise, how much it sucks, how you won¡¯t win, you might lose, but it¡¯ll be worth it anyway.¡±

    He made a face and leaned back. ¡°That sounds terrible.¡±

    ¡°Usually, but it¡¯s thirty percent of adulting.¡± I got up and headed for the bedroom.

    ¡°What¡¯s the rest?¡± He yelled. ¡°Come on, Kelsey. What¡¯s the rest?¡±

    I just smiled as I closed the door.

 Chapter 29

    Twenty minutes later when I opened the door, I nearly tripped over him.

    Drew tipped his head back to look at me. ¡°How¡¯d it go?¡±

    Little brothers. I stepped over his leg and made a beeline to the last piece of pizza. I snagged it before he could regain his appetite. ¡°They¡¯re on their way to pick you up.¡±

    He slouched and shuffled to the couch. ¡°Why can¡¯t I stay here?¡±

    ¡°Do you see space for you? Did you think about that?¡±

    Drew cupped his hands like cat ears and mimed curling up as a lynx.

    ¡°Cute, but I¡¯m not keeping a lint roller out because my brother is spending his time shedding fur in my apartment.¡± I tossed the empty pizza box onto the coffee table. ¡°Drew, staying here won¡¯t work, but there are ways to get more of what you want.¡±

    Not just because I didn¡¯t have room. With my recently active necromancy, privacy was paramount. Besides, if the clan found out he was guarding my secret, well, being a werelynx wasn¡¯t much protection.

    ¡°How? They don¡¯t listen when I tell them I don¡¯t want to go to college.¡± He sprawled across the couch dramatically. ¡°They never listen.¡±

    ¡°None of you have been listening.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not true! I hear them tell me to go to college all the time. They¡¯re the ones who don¡¯t listen!¡±

    I glared at him until his protests stopped. ¡°You haven¡¯t listened. They want what¡¯s best for you. That¡¯s why they want you to go to school and didn¡¯t want me to go to school.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t even make sense,¡± He muttered.

    A deep breath in and then out so my next explanation could be in small words. ¡°For me, joining the clan business, which didn¡¯t require college, was best. For you, going to school and developing skills for a career is the best path.¡±

    ¡°I guess.¡±

    Good enough. ¡°When they show up, you need to apologize and tell them you won¡¯t run away again. Then you need to tell them you¡¯ll pay back the money you ¡®re-purposed.¡¯ After that, tell them you¡¯d like to talk about your future when things have calmed down, like tomorrow. Got it?¡±

    He opened his mouth and then closed it and nodded.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly what will happen, but they¡¯ll be hurt you did this and upset that they weren¡¯t communicating with you before. They¡¯ll still want you to go to school. You are going to agree, as long as it¡¯s a school where you can take art classes.¡±

    And that was where I lost him.

    ¡°School can¡¯t teach art. Art comes from the soul!¡± He delivered the line with all the gusto of his seventeen years.

    ¡°And a good artist learns from experienced and skilled artists. That¡¯s how you learn important things, like when they need breathing protection and to wear gloves. Or how best to use sculpting tools, and even your hands.¡± I kept going because he needed time to decide this was a good idea before Mom and Dad arrived. ¡°Odds are they won¡¯t love the idea of spending money on art classes, which is why you¡¯re going to take business classes too.¡±

    ¡°What?! Why?¡±

    ¡°Because running a business is hard, and knowledge can make it easier.¡± Or so I¡¯d heard. Life had taught me being an adult was hard. Adding in running a business where I was the greatest asset sounded like a great way to be stressed all the time.

    ¡°So far, I¡¯m doing all the compromise.¡±

    ¡°Painful, isn¡¯t it? Welcome to adulthood.¡±

    He didn¡¯t find that nearly as funny as I did.

    ¡°Next, they compromise,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re going to ask to continue taking pottery classes and ask if you can try to find a job that will put you around pottery more often. Since that¡¯s what you want to do, you should learn as much as you can now, so if you change your mind, you don¡¯t waste time and money in college. You can change directions quickly.¡±

    ¡°Why would they agree to that?¡± He made a face. ¡°Compromise sucks.¡±

    ¡°It does.¡± I pulled him in for a hug that he gave a great show of resisting. ¡°They¡¯ll agree because they love you. And if you do run away, come here, because I love you, and if you can¡¯t run to your big sister, where can you go?¡±

    ¡°You still suck for turning me in.¡±

    ¡°That I do. Would cookie dough ice cream make it up to you? There¡¯s a pint in the freezer.¡±

    He bolted off the couch.

    As he dug into the pint with a spoon, I suppressed a smile. If only all my problems could be solved so easily.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    Awkwardness abounded when our parents arrived. I got hugs, and Dad pushed some of his power into me, for which I thanked him quietly. He gave me a look that said we¡¯d talk but turned his attention to his more problematic child.

    Dad gave Drew his best disappointed look. If it had the same effect on my bother as it had on me, he was feeling smaller than an ant.

    Lynn frowned every time she looked at Drew, but her eyes held worry and a hint of fear.

    Under the pretense of needing wardrobe advice for a date (ha! Between the case and my necromancy, that¡¯d be an exercise in lying) I lured Lynn into my bedroom and shut the door. Before she could ask where the outfits were hiding, I gave her a big hug. ¡°You¡¯re a good mom.¡±

    She sniffled and leaned into me. ¡°You were an easy child.¡±

    My memory said different, but growing up was never easy. ¡°I refused the clan business and went to college.¡±

    ¡°And that worked out, though your father credits half his gray hairs to the stress of it all.¡± Lynn pulled back and narrowed her eyes. ¡°It isn¡¯t the same.¡±

    To give myself time to answer, I retreated to the door and leaned against it. ¡°It isn¡¯t. Drew and I are different people. I knew what I wanted and badgered you and dad mercilessly. I kept at it until I found a way. Drew brooded and decided to figure it out on his own.¡±

    ¡°This talk of yours is making me feel worse, not better.¡±

    I struggled to find the right words. ¡°Women talk more than men, especially about their feelings. He lied, a lot, and that deserves punishment, but this isn¡¯t your fault.¡±

    Mom rubbed her head. ¡°He didn¡¯t trust me.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t trust himself, and he didn¡¯t know how to talk about his feelings until he was caught in his own web. If he didn¡¯t trust you, he¡¯d have bolted as soon as I called, but he didn¡¯t.¡± I shrugged. ¡°He trusted you enough to wait here, that you¡¯d help him.¡±

    ¡°From big protective sister to mom?¡± She sighed and pushed off the bed. ¡°There was a time your dad and I worried you kids would never bond.¡±

    ¡°The hunting trips and picnics didn¡¯t leave a lot of options,¡± I said dryly.

    She snorted. ¡°Parental desperation to bridge two worlds.¡±

    ¡°It worked, and you can help him make this work too.¡±

    This time, Lynn hugged me. ¡°Smart and strong daughter.¡±

    I hoped so. It would take that and more to hide my necromancy.

    Mom went out to have words with Drew, and somehow, Dad cornered me. This time, the worry in his eyes was directly squarely at me.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± His voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°There¡¯s a dead squirrel by the driveway, if you need to practice your new skill. And rest up. It¡¯s not good for you to be so low on magic.¡±

    ¡°Work¡¯s been hard.¡± Not that the idea of bringing a poor squirrel back to life had great appeal, but if I wanted to control these powers, I had to practice them. ¡°Thank you, and you¡¯re welcome.¡±

    I declined a dinner invitation, which earned me a glare from Drew, and Mom and Dad started ushering him out the door. On his way out, Drew looked over his shoulder. ¡°Have you ever really looked at that vase? Let me know if it works.¡± He closed the door.

    Footsteps echoed though the hall while I retreated to my bedroom. The blue glaze took on the look of the night sky with the white spots speckling it. The slender curve and lightly flared opening were far prettier than I expected out of a gift from my brother.

    I dumped the fake flowers on the floor and took a close look at the vase. The bottom and lower bit of the sides showed off smooth glaze. My eyes were drawn back to the sides, where he¡¯d managed to give it texture and a bit of depth that almost tricked the eye into seeing shapes or movement in the clay.

    Light shone on the glaze as I turned the vase in my hands. For a moment, I thought I saw a shape etched in the clay.

    A shape or a rune?

    In the bathroom under the brightest lights in the house, I slowly pivoted the vase until I could make out the shape. Not only was it a rune, but there were dozens or even hundreds of them. With each bit I turned the vase, I found more, spanning the vase from the glaze line, up the side, and curling around the inside of the rim.

    When I found the starting point, inside the mouth of the vase, I started the painstaking process of reading the runes. Five lines in, a shiver ran up my spine.

    I dug my phone out of my pocket and texted my brother, asking where he¡¯d found the spell. I added a request for him to call me later, but doubted he¡¯d get a chance for a few hours.

    It took me an hour to work my way through the entire spell. Drew still hadn¡¯t texted me back, so I pulled up a few drops of my magic, which was all I could spare. One went into the runes. They glowed as the spell settled through the clay. I let the other two drops fall into the vase.

    They spread out over the bottom of the vase, moving around as if they were drops of water. Cool.

    Now, could I extract them?

    I poked my finger through the center of the opening, and the magic rose up and slid into me. Extra cool.

    When I got him on the phone, I¡¯d have to praise him and scold him for mucking about with spells. Then thank him again and buy him some clay. He¡¯d managed to turn this vase into a magic depository. When I had extra energy, I could drain some into here and withdraw when I needed to recharge, like today.

    But, I couldn¡¯t keep something like this next to my bed. What if I knocked it off in the middle of the night? Vase cradled against my chest, I opened a padded compartment on my apothecary¡¯s cabinet and settled the vase inside. Next time I had extra energy, it would be easy enough to get to and far less likely to be broken accidentally.

    My phone rang, and I closed the compartment before answering. ¡°Pine.¡±

    ¡°Does it work?¡± Drew demanded.

    ¡°Where did you get the spell?¡± I owed it to Mom and Dad to add a little scolding in before the praise.

    ¡°Found Dad working on translating it. When he finished, I took a picture of the original and the translation. As soon as I read it, I had to try making a pot with it. I thought you¡¯d notice when I gave it to you, but you didn¡¯t, so I figured it didn¡¯t work. It wasn¡¯t until today I realized it might not feel like a spell until it was activated. Did it work?¡± He stopped to breathe.

    ¡°First, you shouldn¡¯t mess with spells. They can hurt you.¡± He made a rude noise, and I smiled. ¡°And yes, it worked!¡±

    ¡°What? Really?¡±

    ¡°Yes, really. Do you know how much something like that sells for?¡± As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted it. We had enough of the wrong type of attention on our family without him selling rune-etched pottery.

    ¡°No.¡± He drew the word out. ¡°What¡­ you make it sound valuable.¡±

    ¡°If you could get the license to sell that stuff, thousands of dollars.¡± I hated to crush a bit of his dream, but it was my fault for mentioning it to begin with. ¡°But you¡¯ll have to see where Dad got the spell and what he thinks about you selling pottery like that. With two of us being witches, it wouldn¡¯t do to have the clan think we were using our abilities without their approval, and you really do need the license.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Let me think about it, but I promise I¡¯ll talk to dad before I make another.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, and nice work, Drew.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t believe it worked.¡± He sucked in a deep breath. ¡°Mom¡¯s yelling for me. Bye, sis.¡±

    My part of the shared joy faded. Drew had helped me solve my energy management problem, but Dad had offered a way to address a much more dangerous aspect of my life.

    With the last of the sunlight fading, I went out into the driveway to find a dead squirrel. A little death, a little magic. What could go wrong?

 Chapter 30

    Randolf had spent years creating a garden behind the house. Pathways snaked through flower beds and around trees. In the far back corner, an ornamental cherry tree and a tall fence separated this property from the neighbors. A trellis covered in wisteria effectively shielded this corner from the house and garden.

    With a bag of salt, a steel knife, and the cold touch of my necromancy flowing through me, I set down the shovel and its occupant. For having been hit by a car, the squirrel looked pretty good, but death had its own signs, and even in these early stages, they were less kind.

    I scanned the area. As far as I could tell, I was alone with the squirrel for now. ¡°Sorry little guy. You deserved better.¡±

    Hoping no one noticed me out here, I pushed my slowly regenerating pool of magic to the side. Cold tendrils of my necromancy rose to my hand. Directing the flow of power with my wand, I focused on the squirrel. ¡°Eair Deyr.¡±

    The necromancy jumped from my wand to the squirrel. It twitched, rolled to its feet, and sprinted around the yard. Afraid it would strain its decomposing body, I tried a command. ¡°Stop.¡±

    The squirrel froze, front paws on the base of a tree, tail curled.

    ¡°Come here, slowly.¡± I held my breath, not sure it would work.

    Sure enough, the squirrel dashed in my direction. When it was a foot away, I gave it another command. ¡°Get on the shovel.¡±

    It did.

    Breathe in, and focus. ¡°Deyr.¡±

    The squirrel fell over, and the necromancy that had been in it faded away. I sprinkled salt on it and tapped it with the knife to be sure, but it was dead.

    Before I could celebrate intentionally raising something from the dead and retiring it to true death, I picked up the shovel. The sun was down and the streetlights far enough apart it wouldn¡¯t be too easy to tell what I was doing, unless the person watching had really good night vision. My luck held, and I returned the squirrel to where I¡¯d found it without incident. After that, it was easy enough to return the shovel to the tool shed.

    Back in my apartment, I leaned against the door, taking deep breaths. Undead, following my orders, and dead again, with my necromancy happily back into its spot. Now that I had a feel for how to use my power intentionally, it should be easier to control.

    Yup, helping my brother and practicing forbidden magics was exactly what Smith had in mind when he¡¯d sent me home early.

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    ***

    At this rate, I¡¯d stop recognizing my alarm clock and only wake up if my phone rang. ¡°Pine.¡± I put as much sourness in my voice as I could.

    ¡°How do you feel about a stakeout?¡± Harris asked.

    ¡°I feel like you sound too awake and too happy for this hour.¡± I pulled the phone away from my face. ¡°Narzel. It¡¯s one in the morning. Why?¡±

    ¡°Stakeout. You know, we wait and try to spot the bad buy.¡±

    ¡°Do I have a choice?¡± I threw off the covers and sat up.

    ¡°Smith said you might be resting, so yes, but I don¡¯t have the magic to fix this werewolf.¡±

    Legs dangling over the edge of my bed, I focused inward. My well of magic had regenerated faster than I¡¯d expected. ¡°I¡¯m at half capacity, so I can do it. But next time you plan on waking me up at an uncivilized hour, you should warn me first.¡±

    ¡°I have tea and scones.¡±

    It was a good bribe. ¡°Where are we meeting?¡±

    Practice had given me a better middle of the night routine than I¡¯d ever wanted to develop. On my way out, I waved to Randolf, who was working in the garden again. He didn¡¯t mention the squirrel, so if he¡¯d noticed anything he was keeping it secret.

    The one thing I had to admit was nice about this hour was the lack of traffic, which was how I made it to work in near record time. On Harris¡¯s request, I detoured past the lab, got out the deer blood, and put together a tracking spell to look for deer with similar but not identical blood. Satisfied with my work, I tidied up and went to the parking lot.

    True to his word, Harris was waiting for me, leaning against the car with a box and giant travel cup. ¡°Scones or tea first?¡±

    I took the box of scones from him. ¡°You drive, I eat.¡±

    ¡°Deal. Which way is the charm pointing?¡± he asked as he unlocked the car.

    I shoved everything but my travel mug, the charm, and the precious scones in the back seat. ¡°Nowhere.¡±

    He grinned. ¡°Good.¡± Meaning the werewolf hadn¡¯t attacked another deer yet.

    Not caring where Harris thought we should do our stakeout, I bit into a scone oozing cinnamon flavor.

    ¡°You¡¯ll get crumbs in the car.¡±

    ¡°In my world, vacuums take care of such things.¡±

    He grinned and kept driving.

    All that was left of the scone was the hint of flavor I was busy licking off my fingers when I recognized the area of this morning¡¯s crime scene. ¡°Why here?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s hunting like an animal: pick a territory and stay for a while. Move when there¡¯s a reason. I don¡¯t know what made him move over here, but he did, so I think he¡¯ll hunt here again tonight.¡± Harris drove past the strip mall, which still had police tape around it. He took a right and pulled into the empty parking lot of an older car wash.

    ¡°So, we¡¯re close enough that when the charm gives a direction, we can get there.¡± That sounded good in theory. ¡°How are the two of us supposed to stop him?¡±

    Harris shrugged. ¡°Tonight, I¡¯d settle for both of us getting a good look at him. Capture or even kill is a secondary objective. We¡¯re hunting something we¡¯ve never seen before. More information would help.¡±

    Sure, if CJ didn¡¯t decide to hunt us instead of the deer. ¡°Just one more question.¡±

    He raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°You told me you were in the forensics department. Why are you in the field now?¡± Transfers like that weren¡¯t common. It had been part of the challenge when creating my position.

    The easy smile faded. ¡°I wanted to be in forensics, but I¡¯m good in the field.¡±

    Not the answer I¡¯d been looking for, but I also hadn¡¯t intended to upset him. I held out the box. ¡°Want a scone?¡±

 Chapter 31

    ¡°Why raisin?¡±

    Harris leaned his head against the window. ¡°We¡¯re supposed to be looking for CJ.¡±

    ¡°The charm hasn¡¯t found anything. I don¡¯t feel anything, and I can¡¯t see anything. So, why would someone put raisins in scones?¡± When he didn¡¯t so much as twitch, I prodded him. ¡°You interrupted a lovely night¡¯s sleep. The least you can do is entertain me.¡±

    ¡°I gave you too much caffeine, didn¡¯t I?¡± Harris groaned.

    ¡°Just the right amount to keep me awake.¡± I pumped my voice full of as much cheer as I could.

    He groaned again.

    I took pity on him. ¡°Thank you for the scones and tea. Well, not the raisin, but the rest.¡±

    ¡°Welcome. Now can we look for CJ?¡±

    The charm resting on my leg still wasn¡¯t showing anything. And while peering out the window hadn¡¯t been too bad for the first hour, witches didn¡¯t have fabulous night vision. Unless CJ was right at the window or in front of a light, I wasn¡¯t likely to see him. I had switched from regular vision to magic sight, which told me the bug repellent spells on the strip mall were fading. ¡°I never stopped.¡±

    For the next excruciatingly slow twenty minutes, I divided my attention between the charm and what little I could see outside the car.

    ¡°Did you see that?¡± Harris leaned forward and pointed out the windshield.

    ¡°I see darkness.¡±

    ¡°Three, no, four deer.¡±

    ¡°Huh. I would¡¯ve thought they¡¯d stay away from where one of their own was killed.¡± I still couldn¡¯t see the deer, but a flash of color in the woods drew my eyes. Was that a spell?

    ¡°No sign of CJ.¡±

    The spells reappeared, moving faster than my eyes could track toward something in the field. The charm on my leg flared to life. ¡°He¡¯s here.¡±

    ¡°I see him.¡±

    For the first time, I was happy to have the cover of darkness. I didn¡¯t need to see CJ devouring a deer, and what my magic sight showed was far more interesting anyway.

    The blood magic radiating off him came from an intersection of two spells and CJ himself. The original purpose of the stimulant spell was lost, but it continued to force his body to stay in a heightened state. A knot of magic unlike anything I¡¯d ever seen tied the stimulant magic into the blood magic.

    Mixed with those, and threaded through every part of CJ, was another spell. When I tried to get a good look at it, it slid away, but it drew its power directly from the werewolf before mixing with the other spell. That one fed into the knot of magic, supplying it with energy from CJ.

    Werewolves¡¯ bodies had adapted to house both the wolf and human. That gave them better senses and some other advantages over witches, but it didn¡¯t give them the energy-channeling abilities we had.

    ¡°Narzel¡¯s bones.¡± And that was why all of this was so hard to figure out. CJ had to eat constantly to maintain the energy flow, and even so, it was slowly burning him up. How all of that had been twisted into blood magic was a different question. One that I suspected had something to do with the spell I couldn¡¯t get a good read on.

    ¡°What?¡± Harris whispered.

    ¡°There¡¯s another spell.¡±

    ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°With the way they interact, it¡¯ll take a full ritual to hold and cleanse him.¡± If that would even work. I chewed on my lip. It should, but blood magic was strange. Almost as strange as my necromancy eating the blood magic. ¡°Or kill him.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s call that Plan B. It¡¯s hard to get answers from dead werewolves.¡±

    I pressed my lips together to hold back a laugh. Not as hard as he thought.

    CJ moved around, this time slowly enough that my eyes could follow. He stopped, but without better visuals, I couldn¡¯t be sure where.

    Beside me, Harris tensed.

    CJ blurred again, this time coming toward us. The next thing I knew, the glass was falling on me, and claws dug into my shoulder.

    I blasted raw magic in CJ¡¯s face. He jerked back as his body absorbed the power, but he released my shoulder, which was all I needed. ¡°Sowil.¡± The containment spell would slow him down.

    I looked for Harris. His door was open, but he wasn¡¯t in the car.

    The blood magic started flowing through me again, and I had a split second to decide what to do. ¡°Wunho.¡± A ball of light appeared over the car.

    CJ shielded his eyes as he growled. The containment spell wouldn¡¯t last if he pushed against it again, and the haze of the blood magic was starting to take over. I couldn¡¯t find Harris to warn him that the corruption might force me to turn on him.

    Or I could fight back.

    ¡°I¡¯m dead either way,¡± I muttered as I called my necromancy. It flooded through me and started its battle against the blood magic.

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    CJ pushed against the containment spell again.

    The deer in the field was truly dead, but dead could work for me. Wand firmly pointed at it, I said. ¡°Eair Deyr.¡±

    CJ broke out of the spell and turned to come for me.

    The deer lurched to its feet.

    Wind whipped through the parking lot, tearing my hair out of its ponytail.

    CJ¡¯s nostrils flared, and he whirled around, swiping at Harris.

    I screamed. The deer leaped into a full run, aiming for CJ.

    Harris¡¯s form wavered. CJ stumbled, off balance from his strike not connecting. A blast of wind hit CJ¡¯s back, sending him to the ground. Harris had cuffs in his hands and a knee in the center of CJ¡¯s back before the werewolf could react. He got one side secured before the werewolf pushed off the ground, turning in the air to claw Harris.

    This time I had a perfect view of the claws passing through Harris. What in Narzel¡¯s name was going on? Humans were as corporeal as me, and my shoulder was still bleeding.

    The wind gusted. Somehow, Harris rolled with it and ended up ten feet away from CJ. It pushed me into the seat, bits of glass digging into my skin through my clothes.

    The werewolf got to his feet just in time for the deer to trample him. CJ fell back, claws digging into the deer.

    ¡°Can you hold him?¡± Harris sounded like he was next to me, but I could see him standing nearly twenty feet away.

    ¡°I told you, not without the rituals!¡± The necromancy froze its way through me, taking the blood magic with it.

    CJ fought his way free of the deer. It tried to get up again, but one of its legs was crooked.

    ¡°Deyr.¡± The deer collapsed, and with it, part of my soul. That creature deserved better than me using it.

    CJ¡¯s misshapen head pivoted between Harris and me. I must¡¯ve spaced out because Harris was in front of me. I lifted my wand, but couldn¡¯t think of a spell I had the power to do that would help this situation.

    While I debated, CJ turned and ran into the woods.

    Harris darted after him, moving faster than humanly possible but stopping at the edge of the light. CJ was already inside the tree line, where he had places to hide, and we were at even more of a disadvantage.

    The wind died down to the light breeze it had been before, and I pushed away from the car. Glass fell off my jacket and crunched underfoot. As stakeouts went, this was a failure of epic proportions.

    Harris walked back, pausing to look at the original place CJ attacked the deer as well as its path to the car.

    Nothing I could think of would explain this. Narzel, that wretched trickster, was having too much fun with my life.

    Harris stopped in front of me. ¡°Before we call this in, we should talk.¡±

    It was a golden opportunity I couldn¡¯t pass up. ¡°We should. You¡¯re not human, not with that speed, so what are you?¡±

    He took my measure. ¡°A sylph and disciple of Kaikias.¡±

    ¡°Wind nymph?¡± I squawked.

    ¡°No, a sylph.¡± He raked a hand through his hair. ¡°Nymphs are water.¡±

    ¡°Same type of creature, different element.¡± I countered. ¡°I read about you in history class, but no one had ever met one, I mean, a sylph.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t get out much,¡± he said dryly. ¡°And we blend in with the human population rather well.¡±

    ¡°Uh, huh.¡± Blend? If he hadn¡¯t gone all wind-child, I never would¡¯ve known. ¡°And what was it you were saying about being good in the field? Would that have something to do with being a disciple of Kakso?¡±

    ¡°Kaikias, and no.¡±

    I folded my arms across my chest and stared at him while my heart raced. If I could keep him defensive about his abilities, maybe he wouldn¡¯t notice the weirdness I¡¯d caused. And maybe a flying pig would fly by.

    He spun around and paced a tight circle before coming back to me. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for me to explain everything now. If we don¡¯t call this in soon, someone else will, and that would be bad.¡±

    ¡°That much I agree with.¡± I eyed the mess. Would they be able to tell the deer had been dead before it charged CJ?

    ¡°Then, if I could suggest, we call in a stakeout that went wrong. While attacking the deer, the suspect realized we were here and attacked. The deer then attacked CJ and was killed in the scuffle, right?¡±

    Not willing to trust my voice, I nodded. Maybe he suspected, or maybe he couldn¡¯t believe the deer had been dead or the rest of this wouldn¡¯t make sense.

    He opened his mouth and then closed it and shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ll call it in, but after this is cleaned up, we need to talk.¡±

    Just what I wanted to hear.

    ***

    Crime scenes didn¡¯t clean up quickly. Which was why the sun was up and my stomach was growling by the time we settled into a booth in the back of a Denny¡¯s and ordered breakfast.

    From the look the waitress had given us, we were a mess. I hadn¡¯t been brave enough to face my reflection, but my shirt was torn, and a bandage poked through from the medic¡¯s attention. I couldn¡¯t use a healing charm for a few more days. Given how much my shoulder ached, as soon as that time limit was up, I¡¯d hit the charm cabinet.

    Harris was more presentable, though that could¡¯ve been because his jacket covered the mussed shirt and his hair was too short to show the wind damage like mine.

    ¡°You promised answers.¡± Decaf tea was almost as good as the real stuff, and after what I¡¯d had this morning, better for the nerves.

    ¡°That I did.¡± He sipped his coffee. ¡°There are more of us than people think. We have a few communities, both in this country and others. Since we blend, most people don¡¯t realize what we are, and we like it that way.¡±

    Given my situation, a little anonymity would¡¯ve been great. Too bad witches didn¡¯t work that way.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t lie when I told you I was good in the field, but I was trying to... find a different path.¡± He paused while the waitress delivered two giant omelets. ¡°I¡¯m good at ballistics, but there are other people with those skills.¡±

    ¡°Got it, but what about being a disciple of what¡¯s his name?¡± I dug into my food, sure an omelet had never tasted so good.

    Harris ate a few bites before answering. ¡°It means I¡¯m good in a fight.¡±

    ¡°I saw that much.¡± No matter what he said, I was sure it was more than that. Not that I had room to judge, considering my secrets.

    ¡°How are we going to stop CJ? I¡¯d like to do it without killing him, but that¡¯s beginning to look like our only option.¡± Harris tapped his fork on the edge of his plate. ¡°Yesterday¡¯s report was odd. Is it true the bullets wouldn¡¯t hit him?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the magic,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s protecting itself. Blood magic wants to live and spread. It can¡¯t do that if the host is dead.¡±

    The words sank into my ears. Blood magic couldn¡¯t live in a dead host.

    Sure, it could contaminate items or even dead creatures, as long as enough energy remained to power it, but it couldn¡¯t live in a dead host. My necromancy came from the small death in my leg. When it filled me, it brought that death with it. That was how it freed me of the blood corruption.

    ¡°Pine? Kelsey? Are you okay?¡±

    Refocusing on the here and now, I bobbed my head. ¡°Sorry, got lost in thought.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± The look of concern stayed.

    ¡°With proper preparation, I can construct a spell that will hold him. Removing all the magic on him is a different issue.¡± I poked at the omelet. ¡°With enough research, I could make a nullifying spell, but I don¡¯t think we have that kind of time.¡±

    ¡°How much time would you need?¡± Harris¡¯s voice sharpened.

    ¡°If I could find the supplies and had a full tank of magic¡­¡± Two big ifs. No one liked spells that could eat magic. They were hard to craft without triggering them and having them try to suck you dry.

    ¡°How long?¡±

    ¡°Never mind, it¡¯s a bad idea,¡± I mumbled.

    He pushed his plate to the side. ¡°If you can trap CJ, what do you need to remove the magic?¡±

    Reluctantly, I looked at him. ¡°More information. Until I know what the other spell is and why it¡¯s drawing energy from him, it¡¯ll be risky to attempt to remove the magic.¡±

    ¡°So we need to talk to someone who knows about that spell.¡± He made it sound so easy.

    ¡°Who? They¡¯re all dead.¡± I said it without thinking.

    ¡°True.¡± His gray eyes locked with mine, and he half-smiled. ¡°But that shouldn¡¯t be a problem, necromancer.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t breathe, couldn¡¯t look away, couldn¡¯t do anything but feel the fear crawling up my spine.

 Chapter 32

    ¡°I¡¯m a witch.¡± I forced the words out.

    His eyebrow arched.

    A sip of tea didn¡¯t wash away the lump in my throat, but it eased it. ¡°Besides, everyone knows there hasn¡¯t been a necromancer in years. They¡¯re extinct.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right. This place is too public for this conversation.¡± He signaled for the check.

    As much as I wanted to sneer and say what conversation, I didn¡¯t have it in me. Breathing evenly and trying to get my heart rate back into a normal range took most of my attention, leaving just enough brain power for panic.

    The check floated through the air and landed on the table.

    Harris dropped enough money on it to cover the bill and tip.

    Under normal circumstances, I¡¯d have protested him buying breakfast, but if we were going to fight, it would be over my necromancy, not the bill.

    He offered me a hand.

    ¡°If you think I¡¯m going anywhere with you, you¡¯re crazy.¡± Any clan, not just mine, would pay him a fortune for turning over a necromancer.

    He leaned down and whispered, ¡°May the earth swallow me if I lie, I mean you no harm.¡±

    That was a vow no one would willingly break, and we were starting to attract attention. ¡°Fine.¡±

    Ignoring his hand, I grabbed my purse and walked around him. That promise left out the possibility of handing me over to someone else who¡¯d harm me. Did he have enough evidence for the clans to believe an accusation of necromancy? Hard to say, since I didn¡¯t know what type of evidence they needed. My clan wouldn¡¯t need as much as some of them. Sins of the mother.

    He followed me to Fabian and his Bronco of similar age. ¡°Where would you feel comfortable having this conversation?¡±

    ¡°Nowhere.¡±

    A breeze curled around us, and he tucked his hands in his pockets. ¡°We need to talk.¡±

    ¡°This your doing?¡±

    His brows pulled together. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°The wind.¡±

    Harris snorted. ¡°Sometimes the wind is just the wind.¡±

    ¡°Or a witch is just a witch,¡± I countered.

    ¡°Narzel take it.¡± He raked a hand across his hair. ¡°Can we please go somewhere private to talk?¡±

    Only one place came to mind. ¡°My apartment.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll meet you there.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t exactly what happened. He followed me, maintaining a polite distance but very clearly there. At the apartment, he followed me up the stairs, and when I asked him to wait a moment, he agreed with little more than a raised eyebrow.

    With a quick apology to Bubble, I dropped a sheet over his tank. This was going to be awkward enough without him seeing the fish.

    ¡°Come in.¡±

    The door closed softly behind him. ¡°Could we try honesty this time?¡±

    Lying seemed like a good option, but the steely look in his eyes made me think he¡¯d keep pressing until I confessed.

    ¡°What if we try trading secrets?¡± He pulled back a chair and settled in, elbows resting on the dining room table.

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    The seat opposite him seemed too close, but not taking it felt like cowardice. I sat.

    ¡°Most of us, sylphs that is, don¡¯t show off our powers or have the types of abilities that easily attract notice.¡± His steepled fingers pressed against his chin. ¡°Disciples of Kaikias are an exception. We have chosen a path where we must show ourselves to others.¡± The look he gave me said that should have meaning to me.

    Problem was, it didn¡¯t. ¡°Being a necromancer carries an automatic death sentence.¡±

    Harris pushed back from the table and started to pace. ¡°Our schools, how we hide, it isn¡¯t spoken of. I never should¡¯ve told you.¡±

    ¡°You still haven¡¯t.¡± And nothing he¡¯d said would make me admit to being a necromancer. The uniform we both wore bought him trust in the field, but not with this secret. ¡°I don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re saying.¡±

    He stopped in the center of my living room. ¡°Then I¡¯ll show you. Walk toward me.¡±

    ¡°What will it prove?¡±

    ¡°Humor me.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± I snarled.

    Three steps forward and I couldn¡¯t move. No matter how hard I strained, a line of air cupped the front of my body and pushed back with equal force.

    Only six feet away, Harris¡¯s stormy gray eyes narrowed.

    A half-step back, and the air around me was simply air.

    So was Harris. He¡¯d faded until he was as intangible as a breeze, his skin a flesh-toned haze in the air. The only part of him fully visible was his clothing, holding its shape as though something more solid than air filled it. Between one heartbeat and the next, he was back. ¡°As insubstantial as the wind and as powerful as a tornado.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s how you avoided the werewolf.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°But you did something very different with the deer.¡±

    ¡°Dancing around it won¡¯t matter, will it? You know.¡±

    His silence was answer enough. I sagged back into the chair.

    ¡°Not everything lined up when I evaluated the evidence at Get Magic Goods. Little things, but enough. You raised Officer Jameson.¡± His voice was bland, without a hint of judgment or blame.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to.¡± The words slipped out, and I couldn¡¯t take them back. They shattered the dam holding back my secrets. ¡°He wasn¡¯t supposed to rush in. He¡¯d be alive if he¡¯d stayed back. But he came in, and things spiraled out of control. Then I was on the floor with the man about to kill me. Jameson¡¯s head was turned toward me, and even though he was dead, I could see into his eyes. Then he wasn¡¯t dead. I tore him from rest so he could save me, even though I¡¯d failed him.¡±

    A drop of water splashed onto my hand. Then another. When my hand brushed across my cheek, there were more tears I hadn¡¯t realized I¡¯d shed. For me, but mostly for Jameson. ¡°I laid him back to rest, but I¡¯d already used him.¡±

    ¡°The deer?¡± Harris asked as he took the seat next to me.

    The words felt lodged in my chest, but I forced them out. ¡°It was all I could think of without exposing both of us to the corruption.¡±

    Now he knew enough to take to any clan. Mine or another, it wouldn¡¯t matter. They¡¯d see me dead and salt my ashes to ensure I couldn¡¯t rise. It would kill my father to lose me that way.

    ¡°Can you raise a person outside of battle?¡±

    I blinked, bringing Harris into focus.

    He leaned forward and asked again. ¡°Can you raise a person in a controlled setting?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t... I¡¯ve never raised a person intentionally.¡± But the fey had talked to me.

    ¡°But could you?¡± Harris repeated.

    Anger started pushing away my fear. ¡°Prior to this week, I¡¯d only ever raised a goldfish. Hardly the mark of a hardened necromancer.¡±

    He leaned back in his chair with a gleam in his eye. ¡°And this week?¡±

    Narzel¡¯s bones. I¡¯d said too much to back down now. ¡°Jameson and the fey in the morgue, both accidental. A squirrel and today¡¯s deer. Now you know. I¡¯m a hardened criminal who desecrates the dead and defies nature for fun.¡±

    ¡°Kelsey, are you listening to me?¡± His voice dropped to a soothing tone that probably worked well on frightened children.

    ¡°It¡¯s Pine.¡± I wasn¡¯t a frightened child. My fears were very real and all too likely to come to life.

    His hand, palm up, inched closer to mine. ¡°Wayne and Kelsey.¡±

    ¡°Pine.¡±

    ¡°If we¡¯re at the secret-keeping part of friendship, we can do first names.¡± The silence grew heavy before he spoke again. ¡°My secrets have as much meaning to me as yours do to you. We don¡¯t tell others of our disciplines. We don¡¯t admit how many there still are.¡±

    ¡°But would they kill you?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± The word rang through the room.

    My eyes went from the table to his face, finding the same certainty there that I felt.

    ¡°For years, we¡¯ve cultivated a reputation of gentle creatures of air, capable of no more than stirring a breeze.¡± Air began to swirl around the table, sending a stack of mail crashing to the floor, where it skittered away. ¡°But we can be more. We can blast across continents and become storms of which there is no natural match. They would kill me as surely as they would kill you, for the world is not ready to know what we could be.¡± The wind focused itself into a foot-tall tornado spinning across my dining room table, picking up stray crumbs.

    I hesitated, my hand hovering above his, with just enough space for the wind he¡¯d raised to pass between. ¡°Can you do those things?¡±

    A hint of a smile played across his lips. The tornado doubled in size, but the pull of the wind on the rest of the room remained the same. ¡°I am still a young wind and a growing one.¡±

    ¡°Harris.¡± My hand touched his wind-chilled flesh. ¡°I am but a young necromancer, unsure of her abilities.¡±

    His smile broadened. ¡°I have an idea of how you could practice and help the case.¡±

    ¡°Me too.¡± I grinned, and for the first time since I¡¯d raised Jameson, I felt like good could come from disturbing the dead. ¡°Now, could that twister drop those crumbs in the trash?¡±

 Chapter 33

    Establishing a basis for trust was one thing. Agreeing on a plan was another.

    ¡°You need to raise them so we can learn what happened.¡± Wayne continued to press the same issue.

    ¡°No, I need to raise the fey. The other werewolf is irrelevant, and his head and neck were damaged. If he can¡¯t talk, he isn¡¯t a help to us anyway.¡±

    ¡°What? Zombies can¡¯t write?¡± An eyebrow crept up.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t see the body. This zombie won¡¯t be very useful for information gathering. Plus, the fey already talked to me once. It shouldn¡¯t be too hard to make it talk to me again.¡±

    That was the hope, anyway. Raising the squirrel from the dead hadn¡¯t taken much energy, but a fey was a larger creature, and that required more power. How much more? Well, hard to say, since neither of the humanoids I¡¯d raised had been intentional.

    Wayne pressed his lips into a thin line. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize the damage was that extensive. My reports focused on the physical side of the altercation.¡±

    ¡°It was impressively terrible.¡± Right now, this case was a daily reminder of why few people managed more than a few years in this job. A harsh lesson that my efforts to break with the clan could be short-term gains. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind where it belonged. That was a problem I¡¯d deal with when necessary.

    ¡°We sneak in, you raise the fey, and then we have the answers we need for you to unravel the spells on the werewolf.¡± Wayne ticked each point off on his fingers like it would be simple.

    ¡°No.¡± I shook my head. There was a better way to do this. ¡°We nicely ask Nash for time to review the body because we think there¡¯s more evidence to be found. You distract him, I raise the fey and question him. Once we have the information, I¡¯ll make up the spell, and we¡¯ll trap the werewolf so I can reverse the magic.¡± As uneasy as intentionally raising the dead made me, the werewolf being forced to kill because of the magic on him deserved a chance to be himself again.

    One finger tapped the face of his wristwatch. ¡°Nash should be at work. When I talked to him yesterday, he said all the work would keep him there through the weekend.¡±

    ¡°Not so fast. I don¡¯t have the magic for all of this.¡± Between a week of power-intensive spells and this morning¡¯s excitement, I was down to a quarter of my normal power reserve, which wasn¡¯t enough for what we had in mind.

    ¡°How long?¡±

    Shrugging, I gave him my best estimate. ¡°Two days. Maybe three.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not fast enough. More deer and people will die.¡± Wayne grimaced. ¡°Is there any way you can get the power?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t use blood magic! Necromancy is bad enough, but blood magic, that corruption follows you into the hereafter!¡± By the end, my voice was just shy of a scream.

    Wayne¡¯s back straightened, and his shoulders tightened. The gray of his eyes darkened to that of thunderheads heavy with rain and fury. ¡°That is not what I meant.¡±

    I took in a deep breath of air and held it, not trusting myself to speak.

    ¡°Is there a way you can regenerate your power faster without risk to your health or that of anyone else?¡± Each word was carefully enunciated, which did nothing to hide the anger underneath them. ¡°I would never ask you to do blood magic, especially not when we are fighting against that very evil.¡±

    ¡°How do you suggest I refill my magic?¡± I hefted the mug filled with a restorative brew into the air before drinking deeply. Trouble was, it wasn¡¯t enough. I could drink nothing but these (if the stress they put on my body didn¡¯t kill me), and I still wouldn¡¯t have the power I needed.

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    The herbs were bitter on my tongue. Dad had given me some power, but it wasn¡¯t enough, and I couldn¡¯t ask him. He had his own work, and the last thing I wanted was to give the clan another reason to look at him if they discovered my necromancy.

    ¡°Can¡¯t you witches store energy in things for later use? Like stones or such?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but I don¡¯t have any.¡± He didn¡¯t need to know about the vase, especially since it had all of two drops of magic in it right now.

    ¡°What about another witch¡¯s store? Could you use that?¡± Wayne tapped his fingers on the table. ¡°Do you know anyone who¡¯d let you have that much power?¡±

    There was one store of energy I should have been able to access, but couldn¡¯t. The clan hadn¡¯t outright forbidden me from withdrawing power, but the implications of what would happen if I did had been unpleasant.

    Of course, a witch in good standing with the clan wouldn¡¯t have that trouble. My dad couldn¡¯t make a withdrawal like this without attracting attention, but other witches were trusted.

    Sweet bones of Narzel. ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re asking.¡± Or who I¡¯d have to ask.

    Wayne leaned back in his chair and adopted that bland voice that told me just how much he cared. ¡°Can you live with knowing you could¡¯ve prevented another death?¡±

    He knew the answer, but he didn¡¯t know the real reason I agreed. I wasn¡¯t afraid of being guilty of acting too slowly and allowing a death. I was afraid my necromancy would get away from me, and one night I¡¯d wake up with a zombie standing over me, asking if my heart had been worth their life.

    ***

    With my phone in one hand and a mug of sadly decaffeinated tea in the other, I watched Wayne¡¯s car pull out of the driveway. Our entire plan hinged on this phone call.

    ¡°Narzel fart.¡± I mashed send and prayed I wouldn¡¯t regret this.

    Two rings.

    Maybe it would be better to hang up.

    Three rings.

    There had to be another way to get a boost.

    ¡°Kelsey, to what do I owe the honor?¡± Jamie¡¯s voice slid through the line, cool and curious. ¡°Last we spoke on the phone, you hoped a spell would melt my face.¡±

    I scrunched my eyes shut. He hadn¡¯t forgotten. ¡°You¡¯d just broken up with me after four years together. What did you expect?¡±

    ¡°Does it matter?¡±

    How was I supposed to answer? I set the tea on the end table before I could forget it was in my hand and slosh it. ¡°I don¡¯t know. That was years ago. We were different then, younger, naive.¡±

    ¡°What do you want, Kelsey? You¡¯ve barely been civil.¡±

    I wanted to get off the phone, but that didn¡¯t get me the magic I needed. ¡°Since the day you dumped me, you¡¯ve shown up at my place to remind me the clan is watching. You¡¯ve never apologized for how you behaved, and you¡¯ve never once apologized for being the clan¡¯s messenger. How should I have acted?¡±

    My voice held more anger than I¡¯d meant to convey because I was angry. Newly minted adult I may have been, but that hadn¡¯t made my love any less real.

    A sigh drifted across the line. ¡°No apology I give now will sound sincere. But I am sorry. Perhaps one day, you¡¯ll believe me.¡±

    ¡°Maybe, and maybe it¡¯s years too late.¡± And the wound in my heart still bled every time I heard his voice.

    ¡°Why did you call?¡±

    Fingers digging into the arm of the couch, I hoped this bit of trust wouldn¡¯t come back to haunt me. Or light me on fire. ¡°I need magic, for a spell to capture the werewolf corrupted by blood magic.¡±

    Seconds ticked by.

    ¡°You have magic.¡±

    ¡°Not enough. I won¡¯t have enough to do the spell tonight, and it has to be tonight.¡± My hand started to cramp from gripping the arm of the sofa too tightly. One by one, I relaxed my fingers.

    ¡°Oh... oh.¡± A sound like a pen clicking over and over filled the gap. ¡°How much power?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m at about a quarter tank. I need to be full to the brim for this spell.¡±

    The pen clicked again. ¡°Dinner, my place.¡±

    ¡°What? That¡¯s where you¡¯ll give me the power?¡± I couldn¡¯t keep the irritation out of my voice. Why would we need to eat together? Power exchanges could be very simple things.

    ¡°It¡¯s the price.¡± A hint of amusement twisted through his voice.

    Narzel fart. Always a catch. ¡°There has to be something you want more than that.¡± Anything but spending an hour trying to remember the times he¡¯d made me laugh. And the last time he¡¯d made me cry.

    ¡°Dinner or no deal.¡±

    ¡°I still need the magic tonight.¡± If he didn¡¯t give it to me at dinner, how would I get it in time to start the spell preparations?

    ¡°You¡¯ll have your power.¡± His voice took on a rich texture that he hadn¡¯t grown into years ago. ¡°Do we have a deal?¡±

    Sweet bony knees of Narzel. ¡°Deal.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m delighted.¡± A weaker woman would¡¯ve shivered at the suggestion in his voice. ¡°Seven. My place.¡±

    He hung up. Hardly a second later, a message showed up with his address.

    I should¡¯ve felt triumphant. The power wasn¡¯t mine yet, but nearly so. After what Jamie had seen when he¡¯d assisted with the purification ritual, I couldn¡¯t think of a reason he wouldn¡¯t help. The blood magic was even more a threat to him since he didn¡¯t have the necromancy to combat it. And, all it cost was a dinner.

    So, why did I feel like I¡¯d just agreed to a date with my own personal devil?

 Chapter 34

    Four hours later, after a good nap and five minutes of sheer panic at the plan, I parked next to Wayne.

    He hopped out of the Bronco and opened my door. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re up to this? Don¡¯t you need more magic?¡±

    ¡°Not for this part.¡± That was as much truth as I was willing to give him. So much of this plan hinged on if this and then that. None of which was guaranteed. Raising the fey was as close to a sure thing, since I¡¯d basically raised it before.

    He shook his head and backed up.

    Two small plastic bags and a folding knife sat on the back seat. The knife clipped to the pocket of my pants. The bag with a single giant salt crystal went in the pocket next to it. The other bag, filled with thick flakes of salt, went in my other pocket. Out of habit, I patted my hip sheath. Yup, my wand was still there.

    ¡°Ready.¡± My badge was already in place, and my keys fit nicely in a back pocket. If things went wrong, which given how much fun Narzel had been having with my life lately was probable, I didn¡¯t need a purse to get in the way.

    Wayne fell into step next to me. ¡°Nash is expecting us. I told him I have questions about the scenes I haven¡¯t been to, and you are going to explain the magical implications.¡±

    He went through the plan like we hadn¡¯t talked about it ten times now, but I let him because I knew the real reason for the repetition. He was nervous. That made two of us.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be quick.¡± So far, raising the dead hadn¡¯t taken much time, but that could change.

    Nash stepped out of the front door and waved.

    Beside me, the tension slid from Wayne¡¯s shoulders, and he adopted an easy grin. If I hadn¡¯t seen the transition, I¡¯d never have known how tense he¡¯d been a moment ago.

    Today, Nash was in his usual work attire, and with the exception of the four braids pulling his hair into a high ponytail, he looked nothing like the man who¡¯d showed up for drinks at Walking Rug. He smiled at me, and it had a gleam that hadn¡¯t been there on Tuesday. ¡°Howdy, partner.¡±

    Chuckling and shaking my head, I said, ¡°Nashville werebears don¡¯t strike me as the type to use that phrase.¡±

    ¡°My mistake.¡± he bowed his head slightly. His smile faded. ¡°The two of you got stuck working through the weekend too? My condolences. Come on in.¡± He held the door open for us.

    On the way back to autopsy, Wayne kept up casual conversation about the change in lead officer. Agent Mitchell would be fine, but she needed more time to recover from working in daylight and going without sleep. Daytime wasn¡¯t easy on dark elves.

    Guilt crept over me that I hadn¡¯t visited her, and I promised myself I¡¯d see her as soon as I had twelve hours off work when I wasn¡¯t sleeping. With any luck, that would be tomorrow. Though if this week had taught me anything, it was that I should know better than to rely on luck.

    My faith, or lack thereof, in luck aside, the lab coat Nash insisted I wear before seeing the fey blocked access to my pockets. I¡¯d forgotten about all the personal protective gear that was required down here in the morgue.

    When Nash¡¯s back was turned, Wayne raised an eyebrow at me as he tugged on his lab coat. I shrugged and went back to putting on the gloves. I¡¯d have to roll with it.

    Nash showed Wayne the werewolf¡¯s remains first. I did my best not to look. They¡¯d been bad before, and time didn¡¯t help. Besides, a quick glance at the crushed face reaffirmed my memory that dead or undead, talking was out of the question for this poor person.

    From there, Nash went over to the table with the fey. He went through the wounds one by one, during which I developed a vivid mental image of the amount and type of damage the werewolf had done before the fey had bled to death. On the plus side, the face and neck were relatively untouched.

    ¡°This,¡± Nash pointed to the fey¡¯s side above his hip, ¡°was where we isolated two separate blood samples, one from the deceased and the other from the werewolf we now identify as CJ.¡±

    ¡°Could I see those and the process for separating them?¡± Wayne asked.

    Nash hesitated. ¡°I still have several injuries to detail.¡±

    ¡°And those would have more meaning to me if I understood the blood evidence the way you do. My area of expertise is ballistics.¡± His smile managed to be self-deprecating and charming.

    ¡°Well, I could.¡± Nash¡¯s eyes darted between Wayne and me. ¡°Pine, would you like to join us?¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I still need to make sense of magical traces. Could I stay here? It¡¯s easier to visualize when looking at the body.¡± That last part was a lie, and hopefully Nash couldn¡¯t hear it in my voice.

    ¡°Well.¡± He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. ¡°Sure. We¡¯ll be in the next room if you need us.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    Nash motioned for Harris to follow him. ¡°What do you know about typing blood?¡±

    Wayne¡¯s shoulder bumped Nash¡¯s as they walked to the door. For as much space as Wayne seemed to take up, Nash was actually the taller of the two. ¡°I recall something about different protein markers.¡±

    Closing my eyes, I relaxed my hold on my necromancy. Rather than flow through me, it rushed out, like a river bursting through a dam. It trembled along my skin, and it took every bit of my will to haul it back inside where it belonged. Standing by the fey and its unseeing eyes, I had the feeling that if I was even the slightest bit less disciplined, it would¡¯ve filled the room with no regard for the consequences.

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    A thick cord of necromancy gripped tightly in a metaphysical hand, my wand in my real hand pointed at the fey, and I was ready. ¡°Eair Deyr.¡± It hurt to push the words past the lump in my throat.

    Icy necromancy shoved its way out of me and stampeded into the fey. The body twitched as cold power poured in.

    Not daring to breathe, I watched, unsure if I hoped this worked. If it failed, perhaps it had all been some terrible nightmare, and I¡¯d wake up to find I¡¯d been corrupted with the blood magic at the first scene and nothing else had been real.

    The fey sat up, mouth open, ribs expanding as if regaining the breath it had lost during death. The filmed over eyes turned ice blue and twitched in the now open orbital sockets. ¡°Where am I?¡±

    ¡°Shhh!¡± I took my eyes off the fey long enough to check the door. If they¡¯d heard, Wayne was delaying Nash. ¡°You have to be quiet.¡±

    That second was all it took for the fey to fling the sheet to the side and swing its legs over the side of the table. It gasped and clasped a hand over the grievous wound in its thigh. ¡°I need a doctor!¡± it rasped, low enough to count for quiet but with an edge of panic that would carry.

    Oh, no. ¡°A doctor can¡¯t help you.¡±

    The fey jerked its head up to look at me. ¡°Are you saying I¡¯m going to die?¡± He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He snapped it shut, blinking rapidly before saying, ¡°Why can¡¯t I scream?¡±

    ¡°Um.¡± Telling him I¡¯d said he had to be quiet and that my order had made it impossible for him to scream didn¡¯t seem like the best idea. Neither did informing him he was dead. Call me crazy, but I doubted he¡¯d take the news well.

    He looked away from me long enough to take in the room. ¡°Why am I in a morgue?¡±

    The knot in my stomach was the knowledge that I was well out of my depth. He hadn¡¯t risen like Jameson, aware of the situation and ready to help, or remembered when he whispered to me about spells.

    He started to get off the table. Given the state of his body, that was unlikely to end well, especially since he needed to be back where he¡¯d started when Nash returned.

    ¡°Stop.¡±

    He froze.

    I let out a sigh of relief. At least that much was working. ¡°Lay down as you were.¡±

    ¡°No, I want to go to the doctor.¡± His body started moving into position. ¡°Why is this happening to me?¡± A squeak joined the rasp of his voice.

    Murmurs reached me through the door. Narzel¡¯s interfering bones. The fey had to be dead again before Nash came back.

    Wrapping necromancy around my voice, I tried again. ¡°Tell me what charm, spell, or other type of magic you used on the werewolf.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­ a charm, one that was destroyed in the creation of the attached spell.¡± His eyes widened. ¡°Why am I telling you this?¡±

    ¡°Because you have to. Now, tell me the rest.¡± Right then, when I forced a scared undead man to tell me his secrets, I felt a tarnish creep over my soul.

    ¡°Do not mix. How was I to know he¡¯d already activated a charm?¡± His arm shook as he tried to lift it off the table, but I¡¯d raised him, and he couldn¡¯t disobey my command.

    ¡°Tell me about the spell you used.¡±

    ¡°Drop of blood. Command him to obey. Cross not with other magics, or mayhem will you make.¡± If his eyes hadn¡¯t been clouded with death, they would¡¯ve been unfocused.

    ¡°A compulsion? But those take power. How was it powered?¡± The voices in the other room were getting louder.

    ¡°A drop of blood to tie into his energy. To end the spell, so mote it be.¡± The fey squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I didn¡¯t know.¡±

    A compulsion that fed off the werewolf¡¯s energy would explain a lot. ¡°Did you do any other spells?¡±

    ¡°Tried to make him bleed, but it went wrong.¡± His voice trailed off, but his lips continued to move.

    I fumbled with the knife, not used to handling it while wearing gloves, and flicked it open. He flinched. Not sure how to comfort a confused undead, I tugged the hunk of salt out of my pocket.

    The door swung open. ¡°A four-minute mile? I¡¯ve never heard of a human matching an elf¡¯s speed.¡± The sound of a smile wove its way through Nash¡¯s voice. ¡°Care to put action behind those words?¡±

    Wayne chuckled, and his voice lowered. ¡°I run every morning. You¡¯re welcome to join¡ª¡±

    ¡°Pine? What in Syed¡¯s name is going on?¡±

    The earth wasn¡¯t merciful enough to open up the ground and have it swallow me. Holding on to my blank police face, I turned around.

    ¡°Help! She has a knife, and I¡¯m afraid of what she¡¯s going to do to me.¡± The fey couldn¡¯t yell, but that didn¡¯t stop him from making an annoying amount of noise.

    I caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye, struggling against my command to stay on the table. A claim of innocence wasn¡¯t going to be believed. ¡°Deyr.¡±

    The fey relaxed against the table, as dead as he¡¯d been before I¡¯d gone all necromancer on him.

    Nash¡¯s mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

    Wayne snorted.

    While they stared at me, I folded the knife and returned both it and the salt to my pocket. Nash managed to close his mouth.

    ¡°I take it, it didn¡¯t go as planned?¡± Wayne broke the silence.

    Nash turned to him, brows pulling together.

    ¡°No.¡± I didn¡¯t elaborate. What could I say that would make the situation better?

    Nash¡¯s fingers dug into Wayne¡¯s arm. ¡°You knew about this?¡±

    Lips pressed in a flat line, Wayne nodded.

    He released Wayne, giving him a shove in the process, and crossed the room. In one motion Nash snatched the sheet off the floor and deposited it in bin labeled ¡°Dirty.¡± Ignoring us, he examined the fey.

    While he worked, I shuffled back to Wayne. It occurred to me we hadn¡¯t come up with a plan for what to do if we got caught and no one screamed ¡°Kill the necromancer!¡± Nothing came to mind. Leaving the fey undead and talking hadn¡¯t been an option, but now Nash had seen me practicing necromancy. Like Wayne, he could tell the clan what I was.

    Earth protect me, or this case would be the death of me.

    Satisfied I hadn¡¯t been hacking little or big pieces out of the fey, Nash covered him with a fresh sheet. Standing between the bodies and us, he folded his arm over his chest. ¡°What was going on?¡±

    Not even to save my life could I think of what to say.

    Wayne took a half-step forward, putting himself slightly in front of me. ¡°I asked Kelsey to do additional magical research.¡±

    Nash arched an eyebrow. ¡°The body was talking.¡±

    ¡°The spell had the side-effect of seemingly real illusions.¡±

    Only years of keeping a straight face while hearing outlandish stories on the job kept me from rolling my eyes.

    ¡°Don¡¯t insult me with a lie that pathetic.¡± Nash pointed to a small camera with its damning red light. ¡°You tell me the truth, or I review the recording for this room.¡±

    ¡°On my honor,¡± Wayne said, pressing a hand over his heart, ¡°no harm was done to the fey, and everything done today will be used to catch the werewolf terrorizing the town and spreading blood magic. Kelsey is no danger to you or anyone on the right side of the law.¡±

    ¡°On my honor,¡± Nash replied as he squared his shoulders and stepped forward, his own power raising the hair on my arms, ¡°nothing happens to a person in my morgue without my permission. You violated the trust between me and the dead. You violated my trust.¡±

    I moved beside Wayne. ¡°Yes, we did.¡± Truth was all I had to offer, and if the earth was kind, it would be enough. ¡°Watch the video. Then decide what to do with us. Nothing done here was done with malicious intent. The werewolf out there is harming people, and with this, I have enough information to stop him.¡±

    ¡°No more bodies?¡±

    ¡°Not if I can help it.¡± A promise I¡¯d only be able to keep if he didn¡¯t turn me over to the clan.

    Enough anger left Nash to soften the set of his shoulders. ¡°Strip off the gear, and go into the hall. Don¡¯t touch anything. Don¡¯t leave.¡±

    He watched us follow orders and then turned and walked away. I hoped the keys to solving this case hadn¡¯t come at the cost of the trust of a good man.

 Chapter 35

    Wayne paced.

    That felt like wasted energy to me. Years of work and even my life in jeopardy because the first person I raised intentionally hadn¡¯t known he was dead. Or because I raised them in the first place, but without raising them, I wouldn¡¯t have gotten the spell information.

    Rather than brood about my fate, which was grim enough without anticipating it, I puzzled through the fey¡¯s clues. There were a few different ways to force someone to do something, but the most common was a compulsion spell. The ones I¡¯d seen that were attached to charms were good for one command, maybe two. Considering the compulsion spell the fey used required a drop of the victim¡¯s blood and drew power from them, it had been designed to allow for more than a couple of commands.

    That also fit with how the spells had twisted to begin with. Creating a spell that drew power from a non-witch was risky under the best circumstances. Cross that with a stimulant spell, and the mix could warp into blood magic. Add to that a werewolf trying not to obey a compulsion and constantly alert from the stimulants, and the poor wolf was drugged out of his mind. He¡¯d constantly be fighting both spells, but he¡¯d also have to eat more than he¡¯d ever eaten, or they¡¯d suck him dry.

    Wayne halted his pacing and strode over to me. ¡°I won¡¯t let him hurt you.¡±

    This close, he carried the scent of rain and ozone. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You trusted me. I will not let this harm you.¡± He said it as if it was a vow, like the ones made in days now considered history.

    The storm potential charged the air. Rather than waste power matching his show, I let him see the truth in my eyes, hear it in my voice. ¡°I¡¯m a necromancer, damned from birth. No one can save me.¡±

    His anger started to fizzle.

    ¡°As much as I would enjoy watching this drama play out, a private venue would be more appropriate,¡± Nash said. ¡°Perhaps my office?¡±

    Wayne pushed away, muttered under his breath.

    I took two deep breaths and tried to ignore my fear. I still didn¡¯t have my expression under control when Nash offered me his arm. I stared at it. ¡°Um, are you, ah, sure?¡±

    A tiny smile softened Nash¡¯s expression. ¡°Have you taken to killing lately?¡± At my wide eyes, his smile broadened. ¡°You can¡¯t raise the living.¡±

    My hand fit nicely in the crook of his arm.

    He started us down the hall, but his attention was on Wayne. ¡°This was your idea?¡±

    Wayne grunted.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. I did suggest privacy.¡±

    After years of thinking I was a necromancer because of Bubble, and all the warnings to never ever let anyone know, walking down the hall with two men who knew and neither of them seeming overly upset was a level of surreal that my brain couldn¡¯t completely reconcile. I would¡¯ve been less surprised if they had told me a squad of witches was on its way to haul me to a burning.

    Nash guided me into his office and to one of the chairs in front of his desk. He glanced behind us. ¡°Close the door, would you?¡±

    It clicked shut, a light breeze ruffling the edges of his papers.

    Nash settled in his chair and hefted a three-foot-tall stack of papers off his desk, setting them on the shelf to his right. Pens and individual sheets of paper littered the surface, but we could see each other. He waited until Wayne perched in the chair next to me, shoulders tense and leaning forward as if he would need to be on his feet in the blink of an eye.

    Of all the threats in this room, physical violence didn¡¯t scare me.

    ¡°Security doesn¡¯t have clearance to review video from autopsy.¡± Nash clasped his hands and rested them on the desk. ¡°Later today, an alarm will sound, and they¡¯ll find several of their fancy computers, including the one storing today¡¯s video, are located directly under a water line that unfortunately leaked. I doubt anything of note will survive.¡±

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    Wait. That sounded like he wasn¡¯t turning me over to the clan.

    ¡°Why would you cover for us?¡± My voice was carefully empty of emotion.

    Nash watched us in a way more commonly seen in vampires. Oddly still, waiting, and not in a bit of a hurry because they had all the time in the world. He blinked, and the effect shattered. ¡°I am tired of seeing bodies, human or animal, come into my morgue having been desecrated with blood magic, purified and cleaned of evidence, and feeling helpless to give enough useful information to stop these atrocious crimes against nature.¡±

    In that, he was correct. Blood magic was the opposite of all things natural. It prevented blood, death, and the energy of both from returning to the earth in a natural cycle.

    A similar logic was how necromancy had been labeled forbidden. That and some ancestors with poor judgment. Pro tip to avoid being hunted to near extinction: if you go to war with someone, don¡¯t raise their dead family members as your army.

    ¡°However, my actions are not without risk. The incident with the water should appear natural, but your experiment today created problems.¡± He shook his head slightly. ¡°Wayne, the aggression is unnecessary. I intend Kelsey no harm.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t?¡± I think Wayne spoke the same time I did.

    A hit of color crept into his cheeks. ¡°No harm, unless you go from raising a corpse to obtain evidence to raising armies and attempting to conquer towns.¡±

    I lowered my gaze to his hands, which were clenched tightly enough his knuckles were white. ¡°Today is the third time I¡¯ve intentionally raised something, and given the option, I¡¯d rather not make a habit of it.¡±

    ¡°Then we understand one another.¡± His voice cooled. ¡°Wayne, perhaps in the future, you could attempt honesty. It¡¯s worked in the past. Complimenting my hair wasn¡¯t necessary.¡±

    Wayne turned pink, and a stray twist of wind sent the end of Nash¡¯s ponytail dancing.

    ¡°Ah.¡± Nash¡¯s eyes twinkled. ¡°Next time try separating the subterfuge and compliments.¡±

    I really couldn¡¯t help myself. ¡°How did you go from blood types to hair?¡±

    Neither of them would look me in the face. Wasn¡¯t that interesting? And here I¡¯d been trying hard to tread on the friend side of the boy-girl line. But it did leave me wondering why Nash had offered me his arm for the walk here.

    Wayne cleared his throat, twice. ¡°You won¡¯t be reporting her? Or me?¡±

    ¡°Catch the monster and come to me next time you need to talk to a body in my morgue, and we¡¯ll call it even.¡± Nash pushed away from his desk. ¡°I¡¯ll show you out.¡±

    Before he opened the door, I leaned close. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    He smiled and tucked my hand in his arm again. ¡°Most of us have secrets, and dark sides. That doesn¡¯t mean we deserve death.¡± He opened the door and led me out.

    Rather than depositing us outside the door, he walked me all the way to the car. He faced me, expression somber. ¡°You have what you need?¡±

    ¡°I think so. It¡¯ll take a few hours to create the spell, and I still have to get the power, but this time, I know how the werewolf came to be what he is. I can undo it.¡± Perhaps I should¡¯ve hedged, but I was 99 percent sure. With the right spell, and enough power, I could strip away the spells forcing CJ to be a monster.

    ¡°When?¡±

    ¡°Tonight,¡± Wayne answered. ¡°Before he has a chance to kill again.¡±

    Nash glanced at Wayne with narrowed eyes before returning his attention to me. ¡°Would you join me for a celebratory dinner tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°But, you, and Wayne, and the hair?¡± I stammered.

    ¡°I¡¯m asking you to dinner.¡± His eyes locked with mine, and the forest green drew me in.

    I stepped back and managed to trip over my own feet. Nash steadied me. With flaming cheeks, I gave the right answer, not the fun one. ¡°Sorry, but no.¡±

    Wayne managed to edge Nash to the side without touching him. ¡°Perhaps this Saturday you would enjoy coffee with me?¡±

    ¡°Um, no?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Again... the hair?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡±

    ¡°What kind of elf would I be if I didn¡¯t enjoy a flirtation?¡± Nash winked at me. ¡°Or those shoulders?¡±

    I didn¡¯t need this type of headache before writing a complex spell with lives in the balance. ¡°If you find each other so lovely, go on a date together. Nash is free tomorrow night, and Wayne offered Saturday. Work it out.¡±

    Nash cleared his throat. ¡°We¡¯ve been insensitive. Are elves¡ª¡±

    ¡°Or sylphs¡ª¡± Wayne added.

    ¡°¡ªor men not to your taste?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you taste fine.¡± I turned bright red as soon as the words left my mouth. I hadn¡¯t meant it like that, but it was too late to take it back. ¡°But I¡¯m not dating.¡±

    Wayne canted his head toward Nash. ¡°She didn¡¯t answer the question, did she?¡±

    ¡°No, she didn¡¯t.¡±

    For years, the closest I¡¯d come to a date were the letters from my stalker, and now these two were looking at me like a puzzle they¡¯d very much like to solve.

    ¡°It isn¡¯t that you¡¯re an elf or a sylph, or men. It¡¯s... well... I¡¯m a necromancer.¡± To my ears, it was a good answer, but they continued to give me that look.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of that sexual orientation.¡± Nash was all but smiling.

    Wayne grinned. ¡°Me either.¡±

    ¡°Men.¡± I dug my keys out of my pocket and got in my car. Fabian wouldn¡¯t ask questions.

    ¡°You never did answer our question,¡± Wayne called out.

    Fabian slid into gear, but my foot stayed firmly on the brake as I rolled down the window. ¡°You heard me! Work it out!¡±

    They were leaning on each other laughing as I drove away.

 Chapter 36

    I should¡¯ve done the preparations for tonight¡¯s big spells at work, but it didn¡¯t feel right. The building was quiet enough that each little sound had me looking over my shoulder. I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that someone was watching me, so I gathered my supplies and headed home.

    Since I only had four hours before meeting Jamie, I picked up lunch at a drive-through. My sandwich didn¡¯t last ten minutes once I got home.

    The next two hours went into ten pages of notes, diagrams, and deployment methods. If this spell worked, I could score a spot in Witch Journal.

    But dreams of academic accolades didn¡¯t put the finished project together. To finish my prep in time, I had to cheat a little and use magic to sew the salt into the king sized sheet. Fabric ink wasn¡¯t as tidy as embroidery, but it was much faster. Even so, by the time I¡¯d finished I¡¯d cut into the time I had to get ready for dinner.

    Lipstick and mascara would have to do for makeup, and the little black dress that had been rather underutilized since I had graduated college and Mom insisted I buy it got its chance. Shame it was with Jamie of all people.

    With a spell-locked bag holding my afternoon¡¯s work as well as a more practical outfit in one hand and my purse and heels in the other, I headed out. My bare feet hardly made a sound on the floor, but it was enough to alert Randolf.

    He opened the door for me with a flourish. ¡°Off to have some fun, I hope.¡±

    ¡°Ha! Work.¡± I softened the words with a grateful smile. ¡°Thank you for getting the door.¡±

    ¡°You should have fun.¡± He wagged a finger at me. ¡°What about that boy you met at Walking Rug?¡±

    ¡°Coworker.¡± I settled my bag in the back seat.

    ¡°Harrumph.¡± He opened the driver¡¯s door for me.

    I hesitated. ¡°This is for work, but when this case is over, I¡¯ll think about dating. That is...¡±

    ¡°I will ensure the stalker can do no more than send letters while you live here.¡± Randolf flashed his fangs with each word.

    I rested my hand on his cold one. ¡°My hero.¡±

    The hard edge left his eyes. ¡°Go charm this work event.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the plan.¡±

    He closed the door and watched me pull out of the driveway.

    I had to get the power from Jamie. No matter how much he annoyed me or how many smiles I had to force. Lives literally depended on me having enough magic to fix CJ.

    Of course, that level of bravado didn¡¯t last through the twenty-minute drive or through the valet in front of Jamie¡¯s building. Nothing set a powerful mood like a man watching me slide into heels and heft a bulging backpack while wearing a little black dress. Hopefully Jamie liked the awkward mix of elegance and practical.

    The doorman directed me to the elevator. The span of marble tile and ash toned brick walls did nothing to settle my nerves. If I¡¯d needed any confirmation Jamie was still in good standing with the clan, this was it.

    My phone buzzed with a text from Jamie informing me to enter a code in the elevator. Until today, I hadn¡¯t known there were elevators with keypads.

    The elevator took off. Bricks passed by the glass wall until they vanished, showing Nashville spread out around me. It wasn¡¯t a tall city with skyscrapers defining the skyline, but it mingled with the land, showing bold rocks, stretches of brick, and a few modern glass and metal masterpieces.

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    Eight stories up, the elevator stopped, and the panel that had been displaying floor numbers cheerfully spelled out ¡°Penthouse.¡± My hand tightened on the strap of the backpack. Yup, this was just how I¡¯d pictured a date with Jamie after all these years.

    The elevator door retreated, revealing a seamless blend of old-world glamour and modernism. Polished marble tiles gleamed under the crystal chandelier, giving way to white walls that met intricately carved crown molding whose gold color brought warmth to the space. The hall spilled into a living room with the same color theme.

    The elevator door started to move, and I stepped out before I could lose my nerve. It closed behind me, and the turning of the gears took away my escape. Not that I was planning on needing an escape, but the option would¡¯ve been nice. It wasn¡¯t like Jamie and I had the best relationship these days.

    The witch in question stepped into the hall. I¡¯d expected and dressed for an elegant evening. Clearly, he had other plans. The jeans with the frayed knee and the white cotton t-shirt brought back better days and the boy he¡¯d been. Not that he looked like that boy anymore. A man smiled at me with an achingly familiar expression.

    He padded down the hall barefoot, appreciation in his eyes. ¡°Even more beautiful than I remember.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t pretend the past was pleasant or that we had been more than civil for six years. The wound he¡¯d left in my heart had never fully healed, and he deserved the edge of pain that came every time I saw him. ¡°And as full of empty flattery as I remember.¡±

    Jamie¡¯s smile faded. ¡°I didn¡¯t... That isn¡¯t why I asked you here.¡± His movements stiff, he pressed on the wall, and a section popped open to reveal a closet. ¡°You can set your things in here.¡±

    I double-checked the spell on my bag, verifying it would prevent any hand but mine from moving or opening it. Not wanting to jostle the spell components, I set it down gently. For a moment, I worried I wouldn¡¯t be able to find the closet again, but now that I knew it was there, I could see the door seam easily enough.

    ¡°I hope you still like Italian.¡± The words themselves were pleasant but lacked the warmth of his greeting.

    That was my fault. Even if I couldn¡¯t ignore the past, I could¡¯ve been more diplomatic. After all, he was doing me a favor by raiding the clan¡¯s magic bank. He would be in trouble if they ever found out.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± The words tasted bad, even though he deserved them.

    He winced. ¡°I owe you those words.¡±

    A timer went off, beeping shrilly.

    ¡°Garlic bread,¡± he muttered, but didn¡¯t move.

    ¡°It¡¯s the best part of the meal. You can¡¯t let it burn.¡± I started down the hall. ¡°We can make up after it¡¯s out of the oven.¡± Or never. I¡¯d hate to lose my grudge against him. Then I¡¯d only have my stalker, necromancy, and idiotic clan politics to blame for any misery in my life. Oh, and my suspended boss. Couldn¡¯t forget him.

    He hurried ahead of me, taking a left at the end of the hall. I followed more slowly, in no small part because I wouldn¡¯t have worn three-inch heels if I¡¯d known the floor was polished marble.

    The living room spread out to the right, with a massive corner window capitalizing on the view. I couldn¡¯t help but walk over. With night settling over the city, the spots of light showed how much living everyone did after dark. Inside, white furnishings matched the floor, a gold and glass coffee table warmed the center of the room, though not as much as the in-wall fireplace dancing with blue flames. Above it, a slender sliver frame encased a picture of a woman with her back to the photographer, seemingly standing in the air, rolling hills in front of her with the sun setting across them.

    The picture drew me across the room, a half-forgotten memory stirring. I¡¯d known he had a camera that day, because I¡¯d turned around with the last glow of sun lingering in the sky, and we¡¯d taken a picture together, the two of us framed in near darkness, joy in both of our faces.

    I¡¯d loved that picture for two weeks. When he¡¯d broken up with me, I¡¯d incinerated it in a ball of witch fire.

    This image, I¡¯d never seen. Not when we sat in the back seat of my parents¡¯ car flipping through images on the camera. Nor when we flipped through the prints, reliving the memories so we could hold onto them a bit longer.

    I blinked, and the picture vanished. Now the silver frame held only glass over the white wall. Hardly able to breathe, I turned.

    Jamie held a slender remote in his hand, and a flush tinted his cheeks.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    It was the only thing I could think to say, and it didn¡¯t say nearly enough. Why was it here? Why did he have it after all these years? Why hadn¡¯t I seen it before?

    He turned the remote over in his hands. ¡°I kept it.¡±

    ¡°You broke up with me.¡± A chill that had nothing to do with my necromancy settled over my skin. It always came back to that between us. ¡°Why would you keep it?¡±

    ¡°I love that picture and the memory of you, so peacefully joyful.¡± The corners of his mouth turned down. ¡°Maybe I have regrets too.¡±

    The chill on my skin seemed to be dampening my emotions, or the overwhelming totality of this past week had rendered me numb. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. You devastated me.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± He closed his eyes. ¡°And for six years, I¡¯ve wished I could go back.¡±

 Chapter 37

    ¡°Then... then why?¡± Coming here had been a mistake, one I wouldn¡¯t have made if lives hadn¡¯t depended on me. As much as I wanted to be anywhere else, my body was firmly attached to this bit of floor by leaden legs.

    His mouth twisted. ¡°This apartment is spelled against listening by mundane or magical devices.¡± He sighed and tugged his wand out of a pocket sewn into the thigh of his jeans. ¡°Berkaan sowil.¡±

    A spell enveloped the two of us, preventing our words from reaching anyone or anything but one another. He lowered his wand. ¡°I have cherished that picture as I cherished you or would have cherished you, had I been old enough and self-assured enough to make different choices. In truth, it has become so much a part of this room that I forgot to change it.¡±

    ¡°How long have you lived here?¡±

    ¡°Two years.¡±

    And a picture of me had been featured in his living room the entire time.

    ¡°I change it when clan members come over, though I avoid having them here if I can.¡± The pain in his voice had faded to a matter-of-fact tone.

    Now that didn¡¯t make sense. He was in good standing with the clan.

    He must¡¯ve read my thoughts on my face. ¡°In favor doesn¡¯t mean I like them or what they¡¯ve done.¡±

    I only had two more questions, and for one of them, I¡¯d have to talk him into being under a truth spell. ¡°Why did you move to Nashville?¡±

    Jamie pressed his lips together. ¡°To be close to you.¡±

    Taking a deep breath, I drew my wand and shoved magic into the spell. ¡°Esaz ihaz berkaan.¡±

    His shoulders bunched, and he glared at me.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ll undo the truth spell as soon as you answer one question.¡±

    Jamie moved his head in a tiny nod.

    ¡°Are you stalking me?¡± I held my breath, and after everything between us, I prayed it wasn¡¯t him. That was a wound I didn¡¯t know if I could heal.

    A muscle in his jaw twitched. ¡°No.¡±

    I dismissed the spell and sucked in deep gulps of air. With no regard for the structure of the spell he¡¯d cast to assure our conversation stayed between us, I sat on one of the arm-less leather couches. It wasn¡¯t him.

    Eyes closed, I leaned over and rested my head in my hands. In a moment, my head would stop swimming.

    Jamie knelt beside me. ¡°Kel, how long have you had a stalker?¡±

    ¡°It started around the time we broke up.¡± It was my turn to whisper.

    ¡°Narzel¡¯s ass, and you thought it could¡¯ve been me? All this time?¡± He swore again. ¡°I missed you, let the clan use me as their voice so I could see you. I would never...¡±

    ¡°Had to be sure after... after that.¡± I flapped a hand toward the wall.

    Warm fingers touched my cheek. Opening my eyes, I found him looking at me, brows pulled together. ¡°Did you pack a change of clothes?¡±

    I nodded.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you put on something more comfortable, and I¡¯ll feed you while we talk? Can you trust me enough to dismiss this spell? On my honor, the apartment is safe.¡±

    I nodded again, not trusting my voice. This week had done something to me for me to suspect Jamie. Even discounting all the caring he¡¯d shown me when we were dating, there was the incident with the clan bully and his sister. He¡¯d burned Aiden¡¯s eyebrows off after Aiden had ignored Emmie turning down his offer of a date twice and asked her a third time. For that, the clan had made Jamie spend a week making magical burn salve. He¡¯d always said it was worth it.

    He slipped the heels off my feet. With one arm, he helped me stand. Shoes dangling from his fingers by their straps, he guided me back to the closet and let me pick up my bag. Another hidden door revealed a half-bath.

    ¡°Or you can use my bedroom?¡±

    ¡°This is fine.¡±

    He set my shoes inside and moved back.

    Unlike my apartment, the hinges of this door were new and didn¡¯t make a sound as it swung closed. I turned the lock, more out of habit than need.

    Trading the dress for my khakis, a thermal undershirt, and a polo with ¡°TBI¡± embroidered on the chest made me feel more like myself. For now, I skipped the shoes and socks. Surprisingly, the marble was warm underfoot. A perk of the penthouse, I guess.

    White walls did little to bring color to my complexion, and the woman in the mirror didn¡¯t look ready for tonight¡¯s spell work.

    Inside, I felt raw. Too little sleep, too much stress, and too many emotions were catching up with me. Tonight¡¯s emotions were far from over, and the spells to capture the werewolf would take all of me.

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    Whatever revelations awaited me at dinner, I promised myself I¡¯d leave here ready to do my job. Fatigue and stress could get me in the morning. Tonight was mine.

    With color back in my cheeks and a light akin to my normal energy in my eyes, I was as ready as I could be to face Jamie again. I wasn¡¯t ready to ask why he¡¯d broken up with me if he regretted it so much, or why he didn¡¯t try to get back together. A pleasant dinner and the magic for the spells. That was all I had in me.

    Earlier, the living room had drawn me in, but this time, I followed my nose to the kitchen. The austere effect of many modernist homes was shattered by the mess. The sauce had splattered, leaving flecks of red on the white counter. Discarded bits, a cutting board, and knife and parsley stalks littered the space beside the sink.

    Jamie had two plates beside the stove and carefully piled the fettuccine noodles on before dousing them in a hearty sauce with chunks of mushrooms, olives, and other delights.

    He handed me a plate and scooped up his own before directing me to a long white table with clear chairs. The garlic bread was already on the table. Two glasses held water and a carafe sat ready for refills.

    The clear chair was comfortable enough, but I had a feeling it wouldn¡¯t age well. Plastic like this tended to show every scuff and scrape.

    A sigh drew my attention over to Jamie. He lifted his glass, looking into it like it held the secrets of the universe. ¡°I¡¯d intended¡ªwell, no matter.¡± He lifted his glass and locked eyes with me. ¡°To better understandings.¡±

    ¡°I can drink to that.¡± I tapped my glass against his and took the symbolic sip before applying myself to dinner. The garlic bread was as good as I¡¯d hoped.

    Piano music filled the gaps, of which there were many. Our earlier conversation hadn¡¯t fixed our relationship. It felt strange to be sitting next to a man whom I knew so little about when I¡¯d known the boy so well. I was finishing the last of my pasta when Jamie broke the awkward lack of conversation.

    ¡°Perhaps dinner wasn¡¯t my best idea.¡± He stacked his plate atop the now-empty garlic bread tray.

    ¡°It surprised me. Of the prices I expected to pay for your help, this wasn¡¯t it.¡± I toyed with the last piece of mushroom on my plate.

    ¡°I¡¯ve missed you.¡± He picked up the pile of dishes and headed to the kitchen.

    Narzel fart. How was I supposed to respond to that nicely?

    I hadn¡¯t missed him. I¡¯d spent most of the past six years wishing I lov¡ªliked him a little less so I could hate him. There had to be a safer topic. ¡°How¡¯d you land the job here in Nashville?¡±

    ¡°I called in a favor.¡± He held out his hand. ¡°Are you done?¡±

    Wordlessly, I handed him the plate.

    ¡°Olivia refused, but after she sent me to Thailand and then to Greenland and everyone saw how badly I traveled, it didn¡¯t take much.¡±

    ¡°Remember that trip to Ireland?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but smile. ¡°You were jet-lagged the entire time.¡±

    ¡°And it took me a month to adjust when we returned.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I tried to tell them.¡±

    I joined him in the kitchen. ¡°How do you like the job here?¡±

    ¡°Well enough.¡± He washed his hands before leaning against the counter. ¡°It pays the bills nicely.¡±

    ¡°And keeps you housed nicely.¡±

    ¡°Your place has more charm.¡± His eyes moved over me, as if he was memorizing every angle, curve, and line of my face.

    I doubted he realized the longing that shone in his eyes or that watching him soak in the sight of me dug at the old wound in my heart. Once the memories from years past were sweet. Back then we didn¡¯t have walls up, and I wasn¡¯t trying to hide barbs in every sentence.

    He blinked. ¡°You need magic to catch that creature.¡±

    ¡°Uh, yes.¡± For a moment, I¡¯d forgotten.

    Jamie held out his hands.

    My eyes stayed on his face as our palms met. Looking at him kept me centered in the here and now rather than sliding into memories of the times we¡¯d held hands like this.

    His magic pressed against my skin.

    Opening my shields also opened the connection between us. Magic flowed, and for those moments, I was open and vulnerable. He politely didn¡¯t press against my thoughts. It was only when I was overflowing with magic and he had broken the link that I realized he could¡¯ve learned about my necromancy because I¡¯d forgotten to shield that part of me. I had to do better than that if I wanted to enjoy a long life.

    ¡°There,¡± Jamie said raggedly.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± The magic buzzed inside my skin. Holding this much power wasn¡¯t comfortable. ¡°Did it buzz against you?¡±

    He leaned heavily against the counter. ¡°Like angry bees.¡±

    ¡°You gave me too much.¡± I held out a hand. ¡°Take enough back to steady yourself.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± He tipped his head toward the cabinet. ¡°I have a potion waiting, second dinner in the fridge, and a date with my bed. I¡¯ll be fine. You¡¯re the one going into danger.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± If I could¡¯ve given him magic while his shields were up, I would¡¯ve.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯m tired of you asking.¡± He pushed away from the counter and stood on his own. ¡°Socks, shoes, and you can be on your way.¡±

    Pressing my lips together, I retrieved them and settled on his white sofa. He leaned against the wall, and if the slow deliberate movements were any indication, he would be tucking himself into bed as soon as I left.

    The empty frame caught my eye. I finished lacing my shoes as I looked at where my picture had been. Maybe this had been one great deception. Even a few days ago, I wouldn¡¯t have put it past him, but... The boy I¡¯d known wouldn¡¯t have kept my picture for years on the off-chance of using it to manipulate me.

    ¡°Could I see it again?¡±

    Silently, he picked up the remote. The picture of me, eighteen and so sure of the world, reappeared.

    ¡°It¡¯s a beautiful picture.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a beautiful memory of a beautiful person.¡±

    I could almost hear him, each of the thousand times he had smiled as he called me beautiful. And the day he¡¯d taken this picture when I¡¯d asked him to stand next to me and drink in the view and he¡¯d said his view was better.

    Hoping the memories didn¡¯t show in my eyes, or his, I turned to him. Jamie¡¯s face was almost blank. Only the pinched corners of his mouth gave away how poorly he felt after draining himself.

    ¡°I can¡¯t thank you enough for the magic.¡± I fumbled for the words. ¡°I¡¯ll do, well, I¡¯ll try¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get hurt. Capture or kill the werewolf.¡± He smiled slightly.

    ¡°That¡¯s the plan.¡± I didn¡¯t know what it felt like to be mauled by a werewolf, and I sure didn¡¯t want today to be the day I found out. ¡°I still owe you.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°No, you don¡¯t. Now get going.¡±

    My backpack felt heavier than it had before dinner and the hallway to the elevator shorter.

    Jamie pressed the button and waited with me. A soft chime announced its arrival, and the door slid open.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Before I could think better of it, I went up on my toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The magic he¡¯d given me flared. Before anything could come of it, I stepped into the elevator.

    He reached out. ¡°Kel.¡±

    The door started to close, and he pulled his hand back. ¡°Be safe.¡±

    The door closed on an expression so pained I felt like I¡¯d intruded on a moment I wasn¡¯t meant to see. A tiny piece of my heart that had died six years ago flared to life again. It hurt just as much now as it had the day he¡¯d killed my love and left me broken.

    For as long as the ride up had taken, the ride down was too short. Along the way, I pushed past the buzz of magic, the unsteadiness seeing him had caused, the fresh feelings, and found me. Kelsey Pine, witch, reluctant necromancer, and TBI agent.

 Chapter 38

    Wayne finished going through the plan. ¡°Did I miss anything?¡±

    ¡°You were very clear on how we want this to go. Less so on what we do if it goes wrong.¡± We¡¯d agreed not to call in backup. Smith would probably read us the riot act, but I for one didn¡¯t have much confidence after watching how ineffective SWAT had been. Anyone else who came with us had a fair chance of ending up as cannon fodder.

    He shrugged. ¡°I force CJ into the spell area while you stay out of the way.¡±

    ¡°Deal.¡± Not like I was eager to wrestle CJ.

    ¡°Let¡¯s roll out.¡±

    I snagged a water bottle on the way out of the office and tucked it into a pocket on the backpack. The rest of my things had been transferred to a new car, since mine was somewhere between the evidence lockup and the repair shop.

    Wayne slid behind the wheel. I¡¯d given him the keys after I drove over from Jamie¡¯s. Holding this much magic had made me twitchy.

    We headed west, but not exactly to Crazy Coins. Given that CJ had interacted with us twice on that side of the trees, we were heading for a park on the east side. It closed after dark, and hopefully he wouldn¡¯t be expecting an ambush from this direction.

    The drive was silent. Personally, I kept going through the spell to make sure I wouldn¡¯t forget part of it when it was time. On my fifth repetition, Wayne drove through the propped open gate and found a parking spot. He shut off the car, and the particular quiet that came with night pressed against the windows.

    My necromancy flexed, brushing against the rest of my magic. Along the road, I could feel a dead raccoon. Recently dead, too. Closing my eyes, I pushed my necromancy back to where it belonged. It had done its part and gotten us the information we needed to make this plan. Now was a time for magic... and a bit of wind.

    Wayne exhaled slowly. ¡°Got it. The wind is blowing through the trees and then the park. We should be downwind of CJ while we¡¯re working.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± I opened the door and climbed out. The temperature had dropped a few degrees from last night, and my breath clouded the air.

    I took the cloth out of the backpack, clipped the fanny pack of salt around my hips, and checked my wand for the ninth time before joining Wayne on the grass.

    ¡°You¡¯re up.¡±

    Under the glow of headlights, I drew my wand and pulled up a small strand of magic. Holding the sheet in my left hand, I started to cast. ¡°Nazid e en ansu.¡±

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    The sheet floated up and started to unfold. I kept the flow of power steady as it spread out to its full size and oriented itself so the seam holding in the salt was pointed at the ground. Satisfied with the position, I nudged it into motion.

    A single light was perched up on a pole overlooking the grass. On the side closest to us, where the light started to fade back to darkness, I stopped the sheet of spells. With a flick of my wand, it rose up until it was hovering fifteen feet off the ground.

    ¡°Done.¡± With the spell in place, we moved to part two of the plan.

    Wayne popped the trunk, hefted out a haunch of beef, and carted it across the grass. He lined it up with the middle of the sheet and dumped it on the ground.

    If we¡¯d been hunting a rational creature, I would¡¯ve said it wouldn¡¯t take the bait. A hunk of cow sitting in the grass was a clear trap, but as hungry as the slew of spells were making CJ, he wasn¡¯t rational.

    Wayne returned to the car, stripped off his gloves, and dumped them in the trash bag before getting a giant dollop of hand sanitizer. Even my nose picked up the sharp alcohol. Hopefully, it would fade fast enough that there wouldn¡¯t be any chance of CJ scenting it.

    Wand in hand, I did one more spell, enhancing the scent of the meat and encouraging it to spread into the woods. Even with the wind going the wrong way, the scent would reach the trees. Though, if we stuck to the plan, Wayne would adjust the wind in a few minutes.

    He closed the trunk and flipped off the car lights. I clicked on my flashlight.

    ¡°This way.¡± Be it a macho man thing, an ex-military thing, or a sylph thing, Wayne didn¡¯t use his flashlight.

    At the moment, this was my least favorite part. Depending on how the rest of the night went, I¡¯d reevaluate.

    Wayne led me over to a row of over-sized trash and recycling bins. I picked out the least grimy bit of pavement and got comfortable. The flashlight went into my fanny pack for later. The wind sifted, pushing escaped hair across my face.

    Minutes ticked by. Wayne had told me not to move too much. I eased off the rock digging into my butt. Deer stands were more comfortable.

    On the bright side, the cold kept the trash from stinking too much.

    That bright side seemed significantly dimmer after an hour. Department-issue jackets weren¡¯t really meant for this weather, and the cold was starting to seep through my gloves.

    A cloud drifted across the moon. Two hours ago, my eyes wouldn¡¯t have noticed the difference. Now it looked like someone had turned off the sun. The streetlight by the trap didn¡¯t illuminate much.

    The wind stilled. I hadn¡¯t thought Harris would let that happen. Doing my best not to move, I scanned the park. When my eyes couldn¡¯t spot anything, I switched my vision for magic. At the edge of the woods, a knot of blood magic that could only be CJ crouched.

    Magic sight was good, but it couldn¡¯t give me body language. I did my best to breathe lightly. A minute later, CJ took a few steps toward the meat.

    The wind shifted, blowing against the plastic bins and putting us down wind of the werewolf.

    CJ halted, and I had to remind myself to breathe as I waited for him to move. Seconds ticked by before he crept a little closer.

    I adjusted my grip on my wand.

    CJ took off, moving so fast he was nothing more than a blur. He closed in on the meat, and I leaned around the trash bin to get a clear view. Magic pressed against me, ready to be released from its confines.

    The meat vanished.

    Scrambling to my feet, I pointed at a patch of ground in front of him. ¡°Orzu.¡± The ground softened.

    CJ veered around the soft earth like he knew it was there.

 Chapter 39

    ¡°Narzel!¡± I took my eyes off him long enough to look for Wayne. The only things near me were the bins. Without any idea where he¡¯d gone, I found the werewolf again. If I couldn¡¯t get him to go through the soft earth, maybe I could herd him with it.

    Picking a spot between him and the woods, I repeated the spell. ¡°Orzu.¡±

    As expected, CJ angled away from the spelled area.

    With my wand focused on another spot, I started to cast. ¡°Or¡ª¡±

    CJ toppled back, losing his grip on the meat. He came to his feet crouched and snarling. A faint shape squared off against him.

    ¡°Nazid!¡± Thank the earth casting was part intent, because I could hardly see the meat. The spell pulled it into the air as CJ lunged for the outline I presumed was Wayne. Taking advantage of the distraction, I levitated the meat back to the circle. It touched down, and this time, it would stay. ¡°Obala.¡±

    If CJ wanted to snack, he¡¯d have to do it in the circle.

    From here, it was hard to tell how the fight was going. Ignoring Wayne¡¯s warning, I crept forward, trying to stay in shadows. If I¡¯d paid better attention back in school, maybe I¡¯d remember how a werewolf¡¯s sight worked and could pick the best hiding place.

    In another faster-than-the-eye-could-track motion, CJ pivoted and ran for the meat.

    Afraid to blink, I kept my eyes on him as he moved. Even before he crossed into the circle, I had the spell ready. My wand all but vibrated in my hand.

    CJ ran out of the spell area before I could cast it. A chunk was missing from the haunch, but CJ hadn¡¯t slowed down to feed or wrestle with it. I needed a better way to capture him long enough to get the spell going.

    Wane intercepted him and started driving him back toward the circle, but getting him to go back for a third try wouldn¡¯t be easy. CJ continued to avoid the soft ground, but Wayne traveled over it without slowing.

    There had to be a better plan. Until I could think of one, I started softening more of the ground, leaving a clear path into the circle.

    My necromancy pulsed.

    Oh, it was a bad idea. The worst of all worst ideas. And if I¡¯d had a better one, I wouldn¡¯t have done it. Pushing the magic back inside my skin, I let the shield around my necromancy down so it could flood through me. My wand drifted until it pointed in the direction of the dead raccoon. ¡°Eair Deyr.¡±

    The raccoon scrambled to its feet. It hopped in my direction on three legs.

    Backing my orders with necromancy, I directed the raccoon to wait in the shadows by the circle. It would know the time to act.

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    The soft ground that had scared CJ and that he was currently trying to escape while Harris blocked his exit hardly slowed the raccoon. With soft ground, weight mattered.

    ¡°Are you ready?¡± Wayne¡¯s voice whispered in my ear, carried by a twist of air.

    ¡°Yes!¡± It would work. It had to.

    Wayne tackled CJ. The two of them rolled across the ground. As soon as the werewolf realized the earth was solid under him, he pushed to his feet and started to run. This time, he kept to the narrow path that led back to the circle.

    ¡°Ready.¡± The command shivered with necromancy.

    The gap between CJ and the circle narrowed.

    I shoved my necromancy to the side and let my magic flow into my wand.

    As CJ took the last step that would put him in the circle, the raccoon darted forward. CJ¡¯s foot caught, and he toppled to the ground.

    ¡°Purisaz! Sowil en kannu! Alkaz!¡±

    The seam holding the salt opened up, letting it fall to the ground in a perfect circle. The magic flowed through the runes, letting them mold and shape the power, focusing it into a barrier the werewolf couldn¡¯t cross and activating the purification spell.

    Eyes locked on CJ as he twitched and grunted, I fed more power to the spell. It used every bit of power I could give it to burn through the blood magic that had fused itself to every cell in CJ¡¯s body.

    The blood magic went into overdrive, pulling more energy from CJ. He got to his feet, though I doubted CJ was making the decisions, and lunged for the barrier. A sharp crack sounded, and CJ was blown back into the center of the spell.

    Gritting my teeth at the pain of channeling this much magic this quickly, I added more power to the spell. A blackened swirl of magic lifted off of him. The purification was working. If I could hold it a bit longer, he¡¯d be himself again.

    ¡°Kelsey!¡± Wayne yelled.

    I ignored him. He should have known better. I¡¯d told him this spell couldn¡¯t be interrupted.

    ¡°Kelsey, behind you!¡±

    Surprise had me reducing the flow of power to the spell and turning. A fist filled my vision before pain exploded on the side of my face.

    ¡°You filthy witch. You ruined my career!¡±

    The chill of the asphalt seeped through my clothing. I opened my eyes, but it was all a blur.

    My ears though, they worked just fine. I turned enough to get my eyes to cooperate. Yup, that was Floyd standing over me. ¡°No, you did that all on your own,¡± I said.

    Floyd¡¯s face twisted into an ugly and hate-filled sneer. ¡°You and your spells caused all of this.¡± He pulled his foot back.

    Nothing prepared me for that kick, right to my gut. I lost track of the spells on CJ.

    Floyd pulled his foot back again.

    Not able to speak, I willed a wall of magic between us.

    His foot hit the wall, and he cursed.

    One arm supporting my battered middle, I hissed with pain as I pushed myself up to a sitting position. Wayne should¡¯ve been here by now, unless something was wrong.

    <ol>

    <li>I fumbled for the magic as I scooted around. The spell was faltering. I tried to reestablish the connection, but it hadn¡¯t been set up for me to drop it and return. Without me, it was failing, in no small part because CJ was beating against one section, slowly breaking it down.</li>

    </ol>

    Wayne stood on the other side of the spell from CJ, one hand out. CJ slid back from the spell.

    I felt the wall separating Floyd from me shudder as he hit it again.

    Ignoring him, I fumbled for the purification spell. When I grabbed it, I rammed my magic into the spell. In a shower of sparks anyone could see, I reconnected to the purification spell. I poured power into it. The purification kicked into high gear, pulling more blood magic from CJ. He dropped to the ground again, and this time the corruption continued to pour off of him.

    ¡°I should¡¯ve done this before.¡± A gun slide chambering a round followed his words.

    Wayne jerked as if he heard it too, but even the wind wasn¡¯t fast enough to save me.

    Floyd waited until I turned, and he smiled a terrible smile.

    I did the only thing I knew to do. ¡°Ingwaz fehu kannu.¡± Mother Earth, let this work.

    ¡°Kelsey!¡± The very wind screamed.

    The muzzle flashed.

 Chapter 40

    The bullet hit the wall of magic, harder than iron, and as indestructible as the wind.

    Floyd¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°No.¡± He fired again.

    Ears ringing from the shots, I pushed myself to my feet, wand pointed at Floyd¡¯s heart. ¡°Algiz.¡±

    Magical ropes pulled Floyd¡¯s arms to his side. He dropped the gun as he struggled with them, but he was human, and the ropes weren¡¯t something he could escape that easily. The more he struggled, the more ropes I added, until he was tussled up like a mummy.

    A gust of wind knocked him to the ground and solidified into Wayne. Three heavy punches later, Floyd was unconscious. Wayne knocked his head into the ground one more time and got to his feet, disgust evident in his face. ¡°How badly are you hurt?¡±

    ¡°Not that¡ª¡± The spell around CJ tugged at me. I fed it more power, but even with everything Jamie had given me, I was running low. The evening plan hadn¡¯t included my former boss trying to murder me.

    The air around CJ shone with pure, golden light. Not a trace of the blood magic or any of the other spells remained. Dampening my magical vision, a human form solidified inside the spell. Not the between creature CJ had been trapped as, but a completely human body. I stopped the flow of power into the spell and dispersed everything but the spell holding him in place.

    ¡°Kelsey, can you look at me?¡±

    ¡°Hmm? Yes.¡± I turned away from CJ, lightheaded from the magic output.

    Harris reached for me but hesitated. His shirt and pants were torn and slightly bloody. ¡°How badly are you injured?¡±

    My ears ached, as did my gut. The rest of me would be one big bruise in the morning. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± I switched my vision and checked him over. The charm had worked, and he was free of any blood magic. Good. One less thing that needed a spell.

    ¡°Can you take down the wall of magic?¡±

    ¡°Oh, sure.¡± With a flick of my wand, the spell shattered, a trickle of magic coming back to me and the rest going into the earth.

    Wayne looked me over from head to toe and nodded. ¡°How long will the ropes on Floyd last?¡±

    ¡°A few hours.¡±

    ¡°Can you let me through the spell around CJ so I can cuff him?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d have to take the spell down completely.¡±

    He thought for a moment. ¡°Can you maintain it a little longer?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± It had the power it needed and wouldn¡¯t drain more from me unless it needed to last past dawn.

    While he carefully guided me around Floyd and the evidence littering the ground, I realized I wasn¡¯t processing well. The emotions I should¡¯ve felt were gone. I was empty inside, and if nothing else, there should¡¯ve been fear.

    Wayne found more flashlights in the car and handed one to me.

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we be calling this in?¡± Distantly, I knew that was the right thing to do.

    ¡°Yes, but we have a TBI problem. I told Smith and the chain of command what we were doing. They notified locals. Between the TBI and the local police, someone told Floyd, but how did he get here?¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t fly.¡±

    Wayne nodded. ¡°Exactly. Where¡¯s his car?¡±

    When we¡¯d come in, the road had split, part of it heading in this direction and the rest going to the other part of the park. We hadn¡¯t searched it because we were trying to be stealthy. Nothing like going through an entire park and forcing people to leave to cause a ruckus that could¡¯ve scared away CJ.

    ¡°And we¡¯re doing this search on foot?¡±

    ¡°Do you want to call this in without finding his car?¡±

    ¡°No, but...¡± I sighed. ¡°Fine, but it¡¯s your ass if things go wrong here or when the case is reviewed.¡±

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Fine. Do you still have your gun?¡± He asked.

    My fingers brushed the butt of my gun. ¡°Yup. I should¡¯ve used it before.¡±

    ¡°You survived. That¡¯s the important part.¡± He started walking.

    I took two jogging steps and dropped to a walk. He had a good point, but Smith might not feel the same way when he reviewed my actions.

    Thinking increasingly unkind thoughts about Floyd, I swept my flashlight across the road. We followed the split and found a parking lot not too far down. Its sole occupant: a car with Nashville Police in big letters on the side.

    I traded my wand for my gun.

    Wayne motioned for me to stop, then pointed to himself and the car.

    Signaling my agreement, I got into place to back him up.

    He approached the car without making a sound, not even kicking a stray rock. Maybe it was military training, or maybe he floated as only a sylph could. In one quick motion, he pulled the door open.

    The interior light came on. An officer sat in the driver¡¯s seat with his head leaning oddly. It took a moment for my brain to catch up. It wasn¡¯t a shadow across his neck, but a deep slice. His front was covered in a dark wash of blood.

    Wayne checked the back seat and closed the car.

    We both stood there for a moment. I holstered my gun. Today we¡¯d been trying to save lives, including those of our fellow law enforcement officers.

    ¡°Not our fault,¡± Wayne said.

    I shivered. ¡°Maybe not, but it was done to get to me.¡±

    ¡°And for this, Floyd will see the inside of President Eldrin¡¯s gut.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem like enough. It doesn¡¯t seem like justice.¡± I shivered again.

    ¡°It never does.¡± Wayne sounded tired. ¡°Come on. We have to call this in, and you¡¯re going into shock.¡±

    ¡°Am no¡ª¡± My next shiver interrupted my words.

    Wane gently turned me away from the car and started us back to Floyd and CJ. From there, he was a marvel of efficiency. I took down the spell around CJ, who was out cold. After cuffing him, Wayne carried him into the back seat of our car.

    Floyd, well, I adjusted the spells so Wayne could add cuffs in addition to the magical bindings. Under the flashlight, his nose was at an angle, no doubt a token from Wayne¡¯s fists. We left him on the pavement.

    Only minutes after our call to Smith, police started pouring in. It took ten minutes for the ambulance to show up. They wrapped me up in a blanket and complained that I needed to go to the hospital. I didn¡¯t want to leave, and Wayne wanted me there while things were sorted out.

    Nash somehow made it to the scene only twenty minutes after the call. He stopped by on his way to the dead officer. ¡°I hear it was a close call.¡±

    ¡°Closer than I would¡¯ve liked.¡± I shivered as I remembered watching the muzzle flash, sure that was the end of me.

    He moved stiffly as he offered me his hand. The light spilling out from the ambulance showed the concern in his green eyes.

    I eased my hand out from the blanket. The moment his fingers touched mine, the pain went from teeth-clenchingly bad to manageable.

    ¡°Pain block, not healing.¡± He let go and moved back as the paramedics eyed him suspiciously. ¡°I¡¯ll see you around, Pine.¡±

    ***

    I had well and truly lost track of time before all the necessary evidence was collected from me, never mind all the reports and the like. Even though Wayne had gone through the same things, he didn¡¯t seem nearly as affected, which was why he was yet again behind the wheel of my car and driving me home.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get used to this.¡± It would¡¯ve sounded fierce if I weren¡¯t huddled under a blanket and covered in ointment and bandages, not just on my face. Turns out jackets don¡¯t entirely prevent road rash.

    He smiled slightly. ¡°Because you¡¯re a strong, independent woman?¡±

    ¡°Damn right. It¡¯s my car, and I¡¯m not a child.¡±

    ¡°No but you¡¯ve had a bad night, and responsible adults don¡¯t drive when they can¡¯t do so safely.¡± He turned into my driveway.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say I wasn¡¯t grateful. I said don¡¯t get used to it,¡± I said, grumpily.

    He chuckled and parked the car. ¡°When you¡¯ve done this a few dozen times, you¡¯ll weather it better.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m afraid of.¡± Or more accurately, the situations that would give me his fortitude. How many times had he looked at a gun and wondered if today was the end?

    He dropped the car keys in my hand and got out. He came around the car and bowed as he opened the door.

    Thanks to Nash¡¯s pain block, getting up didn¡¯t hurt too much. Behind Wayne, I spotted Randolf coming around the corner of the house. I waved at him while Wayne collected my things.

    ¡°I smell blood.¡±

    ¡°Things didn¡¯t go as planned.¡± Not for me or that poor dead officer.

    ¡°So I see.¡± His gaze lingered on the bandage on my cheek.

    The car door closed. Wayne joined us, my purse hanging off one of his shoulders and my backpack on the other. ¡°She doesn¡¯t come back into work until Wednesday. Doctor and Smith¡¯s orders. R and R.¡±

    ¡°And the miscreant?¡±

    ¡°We got the werewolf. He was still unconscious when they took him to the hospital. I¡¯d like to talk to him tomorrow, but I hear I¡¯ll have to wait until Wednesday.¡± That annoyed me more than a little.

    Wayne tipped his head toward Randolf. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse us, I need to get her settled so she can start resting and get back to work.¡±

    Randolf flashed his fangs when he smiled. ¡°Kelsey, I like him.¡±

    I just sighed.

    ¡°Shall we?¡± Randolf offered me his arm. ¡°The lad is burdened with your things.¡±

    What could I say? ¡°Thank you.¡±

    The three of us went up to my apartment, where Randolf settled me on the couch. ¡°Is there anyone you want me to call? Your parents?¡±

    ¡°No. I have a date with my bed, and then I¡¯ll give them a call.¡± Or the couch. Then I wouldn¡¯t have to get up again.

    ¡°Kelsey, I¡¯ll be in touch Monday. Rest.¡± Wayne pointed to his phone. ¡°If you need anything.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll call.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± He turned to Randolf. ¡°Thank you for the help, sir.¡±

    Randolf looked at him for a moment. ¡°How are you getting home?¡±

    ¡°A cab.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense. I¡¯ll take you.¡±

    I wanted to protest but couldn¡¯t figure out how. The two of them wished me well, and as the door closed behind them, I heard Wayne ask if I¡¯d always been so determined.

    I didn¡¯t hear the answer.