One of the ghouls breaks away from Thomas and Gilbert and comes barreling at us. Jacques takes the fire poker from me and throws it forward with impressive accuracy.
“I didn’t know priests were so well versed in warfare,” I say, running my eyes over him.
“I’m starting to enjoy the ability to surprise you,” he replies, and moves forward to pull the poker from the ghoul’s body. He comes right back to me, protective but not doting. Obviously, I can hold my own. I take the fire poker back and move farther out into the yard, looking for more.
“I think we got them all.” Thomas lands a few feet from me, wiping ghoul blood from his face.
“Check the house,” Jacques says once Gilbert comes over. He flicks his eyes to the horizon. “Hurry.”
Hasan pulls his part of the tong from a ghoul and tosses the body on top of another.
“You’re not supposed to let them bite you,” he tells Jacques, smirking.
Jacques raises an eyebrow. “You should have told me that sooner.” He wipes away a drip of blood.
“What the hell just happened?” I ask, heart still racing. I’m on edge, not fully convinced all the ghouls are gone.
“Ghouls attacked us,” Hasan answers.
“I know. But why?”
“Ghouls are sent,” Jacques starts.
“Sent?” I question. With the adrenaline wearing off, the exhaustion I felt before hits again.
“By someone—or something—with powers.”
“Someone knows who I am,” I say slowly as things start to click in my mind. “And I don’t just mean they know I exist. They know I’m a witch.”
“Yes,” Jacques says, not attempting to soften the blow. “For ghouls to find you, you had to have been marked.”
“Marked? How?”
“I believe the term is a ‘calling card.’ Some sort of hexed object was put into your possession to draw the ghouls to you.”
“How?” I ask again, and quickly shake my head. “And when?”
“Tonight,” Hasan says, still gripping the piece of twisted iron. I think he’s wishing for another ghoul or two.
“I’ve been home all—shit.” I push a strand of hair back, and it gets stuck in a splatter of ghoul blood on my neck. “I went into town to investigate the murder weapon.”
“Did you have a bag or anything with you someone could have slipped something in?”
“No. I left my purse in the car.”
“The car,” we all say at the same time. We run over, and the feeling of having all my energy drained increases. Rays of sunlight start to stream down on us, reflecting off the tinted windows of my Charger. We’re skating on thin ice. The guys need to go back up onto the roof soon.
The three of us look the car over, and Hasan finds something shoved behind the license plate.
“Hex bag,” he says, dumping out the contents of a little black bag into his hand. Jacques looks it over and nods.
“Someone tagged you. And this…” He picks up what looks like a chicken bone covered in little scratches. “This binds magical powers.” He snaps the bone in half, and suddenly I don’t feel like I’m going to collapse.
“Whoever put this here knows exactly who you are,” he says, and his words bring a chill through me. “The sun is almost up. We have to go, Ace, but be careful until sunset. I believe you are in danger.”
“Great.” I press my lips together in a wry smile. “And I’ll be careful. I’m a cop, guys; for years, I’ve always had at least one person gunning for my death. I can handle myself.”
Hasan stiffens. It’s not that he doesn’t believe me, it’s that he worries, and caring for someone enough to worry is a fairly new concept to him. I’m sure if he had his way, he’d play bodyguard twenty-four seven and protect me from anything remotely unpleasant.
