“Note to self: do not lie to the lead detective.”
“You can call me Sean.”
“Right. Sean.” I’d totally forget. I already knew it. Then next time I met him, it would be awkward because I’d have to ask for his name again, and he would undoubtedly remember mine. I hated the black hole in my memory that always swallowed names. “Okay, Sean,” I said, trying to use his name as often as possible in hopes it would stick. “Let’s get freaky, shall we?”
“What’s that?” he asked, taken aback.
“Magic, man,” I said quietly. I didn’t want Clarissa to hear, and Sean wouldn’t know how rare my abilities were. “Get ready to write things down.”
I felt my phone vibrate again. Trying not to let it distract me, I focused on the magical hum of the body’s neck, then moved closer so I could feel that of the drying blood on his clothes. Finally, I used two hands to feel the pulse from around the chair, including where the body’s hands rested.
“How long ago did this happen?” I asked.
“Three hours. At first we didn’t know it was magical in nature, or we would’ve called you sooner.”
“What tipped you off?”
“The sword. Normal people don’t walk around hacking people’s necks with swords.”
“You’re not from New Orleans, are you?”
“No.” He shifted. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have said he was uncomfortable. “Seattle. Why? Is it the West Coast accent?”
“All kinds of crazy stuff goes down in New Orleans…” Dang it! What had he said his name—
“Sean!” I smiled in triumph. Moving on. “A sword doesn’t make it magical.”
“It did in this case.”
“Touché.” I backed away and started wandering around the room, feeling the same type of spell blanket as in the sitting room. “You’re looking for a mage. Someone moderate to high in power. These spells all have the same beat, so I’d bet they were all done by her. Or him—I’m still not sure about the sex. That magedoesn’t use a sword often, I’ll tell you that much, and the weapon was older, but it was most likely hers. She wouldn’t commit murder with a loaner, and a new one would be sharp. She’s been doing magic for a while, which means she’ll be at least, the very least, mid-thirties. I’d bet forties or greater, though, judging by the intricacies of the spell. She’s had time to work on her craft.”
“His daughter?”
I glanced at the older man sitting dead in the chair, probably mid- to late seventies. “That was a jump, but…could be.”
Sean pointed at a framed picture on the mantel of the man, an older woman who was probably his wife, and a younger woman who didn’t look like either of them.
“Maybe, I don’t know. I’m just giving you the facts. Anyway, she did a spell to keep him in place. See his hands? They were clawing at the chair, but his arms clearly couldn’t move. His legs couldn’t either. He was magically pinned to this chair. Usually holding someone like that is done for information. She was definitely looking for something in this house. The blanket spell in the sitting room, and here in the living room, points to that.
“If I’m wrong about looking for something, though, then she was giving threats. Except you don’t chop atsomeone’s neck to deliver a warning. That’s just stupid. She probably would have beaten him if that was her aim, and there’s no sign of that.”
“Can’t a person kill with magic?”
“Absolutely. Which is why I think this was done out of anger, or passion of some kind. She is powerful enough, and knowledgeable enough, to kill with magic. But instead, she hacked away at his neck.” My phone vibrated again. I gritted my teeth. “The last thing, and then I’ll leave you to your deductions”—so I could yell at whoever was repeatedly bothering me—“is that blanket spell. A treasure hunt, perhaps. Looking for—”
“I know what she was doing in there!” Clarissa emerged from the sitting room. Her eyes twinkled. “The perpetrator was trying to find something.”
“What do you think that might be?” Sean asked her.
Leaving them to chat, I wandered into the kitchen. No magic. Jogging now, I headed into a back bedroom. The searching spell was even thicker in here. Headier. She’d used more power, probably suspecting this was where her treasure was hidden.
Just real quick, because my curiosity was burning, I did a look-n-see, immediately finding the disturbed closet. She’d torn the thing apart. There was no way to tell if she’d found what she was looking for.
Back in the living room, I took out my phone. AnSOS 911message, signed Smokey—how did he get mynumber?—a voicemail, and a text message from the captain.Call ASAP. We got a nasty one. I need the whole team on this one.
“Oh it’s happening,” I said with a surge of excitement. “I’m finally going head to head with Garret.”
“What’s the matter?” Clarissa asked, the triumph over her discovery melting away.
