“I don’t know.” Connor’s voice was quiet. “I’m told he was well-liked, had no obvious enemies. Easy to get along with. Do you know anything about the magic?”
“Only that this looks and feels like dark magic,” I said quietly, and he nodded.
“Death, blood, power,” he confirmed. “And it’s strong. Reminds me of the time a sorcerer in Memphis tried to open a gate to hell.”
“Because the blues and barbecue weren’t enough entertainment?”
“It takes all kinds,” he said philosophically. “And it felt a lot like this.”
He walked toward the wolf and stared down, hands on his hips and a furrow in his brow. “The dagger is silver. I can feel the interruption in the magic. As if splitting him open wasn’t enough, the silver could work its punishment too.” His words were hard and angry.
SayingI’m sorryagain seemed inefficient. I brushed my fingers against his, our touchstone. He met my gaze, nodded once. Acknowledgment. Confirmation.
“You sense anything else?” I asked. “Any indication someone was here?”
“Not at the moment.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “But I’ll tell you if I do.”
I nodded, crouched to take photographs of the circle, the smear of salt, the wolf, and sent them to Petra. And saw something stuck in the blood beneath its fur. Before I could reach out, the sound of a vehicle rumbled through the night.
I rose as a CPD cruiser rolled up and parked diagonally in the street.
“Your cavalry,” Connor said.
“They’ll work for Bryce,” I reminded him.
Theo emerged from the passenger side in his typical uniform, jeans and a button-down shirt, this one in checks of white and periwinkle. His skin was dark brown, his hair black and twisted into small, short whorls. Grimness narrowed his brown eyes.
A woman emerged from the driver’s side. She was Detective Gwen Robinson, the CPD’s supernatural expert. She strode forward, her dark brown skin glowing against a trim suit in dark navy. Her dark hair was loose today in soft waves that framed her face. And although her wide brown eyes were cop-blank beneath angular brows, there was sadness there.
“Our condolences,” Gwen said when they reached us.
“Thank you,” Connor said. “He’s from the Consolidated Atlantic.” He gestured toward the vehicle. “No cruisers? No lights?”
“Our bosses thought it best to keep it quiet, given the magic,” Gwen said. “What do you know?”
Connor told her what he’d learned as she moved around the circle, occasionally crouching, and taking her own photographs.
“And I think I see something,” I said, and crouched beside her, pointed to the white fragment beneath him. “Do you have an evidence bag or...?”
“Right here,” Theo said, as he set a kit on the ground, opened it, and pulled out gloves and a bag, which he offered to Gwen.
“You’re a very handy assistant,” Gwen said, without looking back.
Theo snorted. “Ombuds are not assistants. We’re liaisons. I’m liaising.”
Rolling her eyes, Gwen pulled on the gloves, then carefully extracted a piece of paper from beneath the wolf with a pair of tweezers. She slipped it into the evidence bag and held it up to the light. It was white, about five inches high, cut roughly into the shape of a wolf.
Gwen swore.
“What is that?” Theo asked. “A paper doll?”
“Possibly a kind of effigy,” Gwen said, rising again. “The second one we’ve found. A human was killed two nights ago. Stabbed by a dagger, a human-shaped effigy beneath him.”
Theo put his hands on his hips, looked at me. “We didn’t hear about this.”
“No,” I said. “We didn’t. Was there a salt circle in that one?”
“No,” Gwen said. “Which is why it wasn’t flagged as supernaturally involved.”
