“I'll go,” Extinguisher John Sloane said. He was our other escort. “That way I can get in there and take a look around before the Ambassador goes in.”
“I like that idea,” Tiernan nodded and offered his back to the extinguisher.
Extinguisher John slung his arms over Tiernan's shoulder and Tiernan used his air magic to carry them up to the open window. John climbed in and Tiernan floated back down. We waited a few minutes for the extinguisher to check everything out until he finally popped his head out of the window and waved us up.
Kate went next and then I finally got to go in, followed by Tiernan. Someone turned on an overhead light and I blinked in the sudden glare. We were in a sad, gray room with cracked and yellowed linoleum tiles on the floor and sagging ceiling tiles held in place by numerous bolts, which looked like they'd been recent additions. Mold was seeping through the tired tiles in places and the smell of it competed with the scent of chemicals.
“Is it wise to have a light on?” Tiernan asked.
“We're high enough up that no one will notice,” John shrugged. “And really, who's going to investigate a light in the morgue in the middle of the night?”
“Good point,” I grimaced. “Where are the bodies?” I stared at the cluttered desk and droopy chair which took up most of the small room.
“Across the hall,” John led us out of the depressing room and into an even more dismal coroner's office.
“Does that crock pot have a human bone in it?” I asked in horror.
“I told you they're underfunded,” Kate sighed. “They've been trying to get the state to grant them more money for years.”
“This is awful,” I walked through the room, taking in the tiny broom closet which had a table covered in bones inside it. Behind the table were stacked cardboard boxes with case numbers written on them in black sharpie.
“Here we go, Ambassador,” John pulled out a shelf from the mortuary cold chamber installed in one wall.
On it was a sheet-draped body. Feet stuck out of the sheet, one with a tag tied on to its big toe. I walked over as John pulled the sheet back. Beneath it was the man from the photograph; Mr. Hocktochee. His face was no longer grimacing but that wound was the same, just a little cleaner. There were no others signs of trauma to his face or body but there was an odd tattoo on his chest, right beside the wound. It was a circle with two feathers inside it.
“Two feathers within a circle,” Tiernan narrowed his eyes. “Placed like mirrored opposites, one black and one white.”
“It's probably some kind of Native American thing,” Sloane shrugged.
“The circle is an important symbol for a lot of cultures, often a magical one,” Kate offered.
“You know, psychic gifts were once believed to be magic,” Tiernan added.
“But they're not magic,” I protested. “Humans don't have magic.”
“Not that we know of,” Tiernan raised his gaze to mine.
“Are you implying that there could be actual witches out there that none of us, not the Extinguishers, the Councils, or the Wild Hunt has ever come across?” Extinguisher John asked.
“It's called evolution,” Tiernan shrugged. “Perhaps all the stories of witches, like those of fairies, are actually based on truth.”
“And what; these people just hid for centuries?” John scoffed. “That's a bit of a leap from a feather tattoo.”
“They could be a group of psychics who have been honing their skills for centuries, just as the extinguishers have done. Except their skills altered into magic,” Tiernan said calmly. “Anything is possible. Plus, there's this,” he pointed towards the man's chest.
“What?” John asked as Kate inhaled sharply.
I peered at the body and focused my senses. Dead bodies don't have auras. They're dead so there's no energy there to interact with the environment. Which is why I hadn't thought to look for one. But there was an aura on this body. It was fading, clinging to the chest like it was searching for a heartbeat, but it was there. A deep murky green mist. It flared under my scrutiny and I gave a gasp too, backing away a little.
“What is that?” Extinguisher John stared at the body in morbid fascination.
“It's the remnants of powerful magic,” Tiernan said. “Healing magic but with a darkness within it. I think this is the power that takes life energy from one being and transfers it to another.”
“Why is it still here?” I watched the aura move sluggishly over the body. “Shouldn't it have left when its host died?”
“Some magic lingers,” Tiernan was watching it too. “Especially healing or death magic. Healing magic wants to heal and death magic is attracted by death.”
“And you think this is both?” I asked.
