Although Hiram remains cool and composed, dread pools in the pit of his stomach. “Case file? She died fighting off a burglar.”
“The burglary was a cover story. Our British counterparts conducted a two-month inquiry and concluded what we suspected.”
“Which was?”
“Are you familiar with the Botanist serial-killer case?” Francisco asks, but when Hiram maintains his blank expression, he continues. “Well, I wouldn’t expect you to be. Despite our efforts, it hasn’t been widely covered because the victims are Seers.”
“How many?”
“Ten—now eleven—over the last six years. We don’t know the exact cause of death because the Botanist uses a powerful wasting curse to rapidly degrade their Imprint and, with it, any physical evidence.” Every spell cast leaves behind residue, called Imprints. Like a fingerprint, a person’s Imprint is unique and identifiable but fades after a few hours. “The amount of magic being used leads us to suspect the Botanist is either a Seer or a Mage with a powerful unregistered amulet.”
“How do you know it’s the same person if you don’t have physical evidence or their Imprint?” Hiram asks.
“The victims’ bodies are all in the same position, splayed out like a sacrifice,” Francisco explains. “Also, according to Sensitives, the air at each scene smells like spoiled magic, indicative of a ritual gone wrong. Lastly, there are spider lilies in full bloom that burn when touched.”
“Omnipotent magic,” Gabriel adds.
Ritualistic magic is bad enough, but Omnipotent is magic that creates through sheer willpower. Just as likely to strip the ozone layer as it is to destabilize society, it’s banned because it invites the type of instability that can manifest in unknown ways. Murders aren’t uncommon, humans are the most dangerous predator, but a serial killer who disregards the fundamental magical laws keeping the world spinning on its axis is something else entirely.
The public’s lack of interest signifies a recklessness he can’t reconcile. It reminds Hiram that history doesn’t repeat itself; it rephrases and rhymes. This has the makings of another Great Vanishing—the worst mass-casualty event in recent history. Hiram was in college when the first reports of inexplicable disappearances made the news. Dozens disappeared within the first week. Hundreds beyond that. It was declared a magical epidemic only when politicians, royalty, and the wealthiest, most influential figures began disappearing, too. Then one day, exactly a month after the first Vanishing, ten thousand people Vanished in broad daylight in various cities all over the world. Terror sent society into a free fall. Schools shut down, violence was rampant, rules ceased to matter, and the global economy crashed. When the source was apprehended, societal order returned, the incident swept under the rug. Rampant rumors about the source’s identity left the world assuming they were a Seer—no one else could’ve sustained the physical cost of such magic—which led to a massive change in global laws. In America, hysteria worsened the oppression of Seers and their separation from Mages. The tragedy became a marker in history and yet another incident bigots point to as an explanation for their hatred.
“Grace was the only victim killed outside the country,” Gabriel says carefully.
Hiram can tell when he’s being studied. He doesn’t like it. “And the others?”
“The first was a healer in Philadelphia. The next two were found in California. One in Upstate New York. Two down in Florida while they were on vacation. The rest were scattered across Colorado and Texas.We don’t have a pattern yet—timewise, temporal, or otherwise. No motivation. No profile. No fresh scene ... until Grace, and even then, there wasn’t an Imprint.”
“The better question is: Whatdoyou know after investigating for six years?” Hiram asks.
“When we were assigned this case three years ago, it was just one murder. As we investigated, we came across more cases from all over the country with too many similarities to be coincidence. We have unclaimed rewards for information, and a cooperative witness that doesn’t remember much. Now we have you.”
“No, you don’t. Trust me—you don’t want me involved.” Seers, aside from Peter Weston, his best friend,hateHiram Ellis. “How did you get this address?”
“Grace led us here,” Gabriel replies.
“Bullshit.”
His annoyance simmers when Investigator Sallant whispers a spell over the messenger stone. “Nuntius.”
Between the cracks of his fingers, the stone emits a hum, then flashes white. Gabriel opens his hands. The stone rises, spinning, until a distorted, familiar British accent he hasn’t heard in seven years emerges. “I am a dying star. I’ve Seen my end. I am not the last, but there is no fighting the end. The sun and moon spin out of orbit while Earth slumbers deep. Broken bonds form anew. You must compel the earth to live, the sun to shine, and the moon to show his face.”
The stone fades, landing in Gabriel’s awaiting hand, the silence resounding.
“Do you know what she meant?”
“No,” Hiram answers, still distracted after picking apart how time changed her voice. Paranoia and secrecy drive Seers to weave their visions in riddles to make interpretation harder and protect themselves from laws that prohibit them from speaking plainly. Hiram has a feeling they haven’t shown the stone to anyone else, which means this conversation is unapproved and off the record. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“A lot,” Gabriel admits. “Grace also wrote a note that came with her stone, which was how we found this house and, ultimately, you. She said that we needed to find her old pin that conceals a true face. Do you know what she’s talking about?”
“The only thing I can think of is her trickster pendant,” Hiram says, noting the second glance the two men give each other. “Grace has the only one that’s not hanging in a museum. Well,had.She lost it not long after I met her.”
Francisco cocks his head. “Lost or stolen?”
Hiram shrugs. “She said she was out with friends and realized on her way home that it was gone.”
“What does the pendant do?” Gabriel asks.
“It can change the appearance of the person who puts it on. I don’t know what the trickster pendant truly looks like, because its appearance depends on who’s wearing it. The pin looked like a cat when Grace wore it, but the one time I touched it, it turned into a wolf. It was a family heirloom, passed down from her grandmother. Odd that she told you to find something she lost years ago in New York City.”
