I rush back in, finding it on the counter. There’s one other missed call, and it’s from Marissa. From five hours ago.
If Gemma is alive, she’s living on borrowed time.
The killer must have gone into a rage of sorts after Anna got away and went for the next person on his list. He could have taken her right after he left the minimart. If that’s the case, she’s probably dead already.
I hold my phone in front of me, ready to call this in and get every available cop in the city to try and find her so we can catch this killer, but I hesitate. Calling this in will take time. Time we don’t have. We’re not any closer to finding the killer.
But there might be another way.
There is a location spell in the book, and if I can get it to work, I’ll know exactly where Gemma is. But if I can’t get it to work…I’m wasting time. Biting my lip, I make up my mind. I rush into Gemma’s room, looking around for her hairbrush. I find it on her bed. Taking it, I rush out to my car and fire up the engine.
Whipping out my phone, I order my team to put out an APB for Gemma as I speed all the way home. The moment I pull into the driveway, I spring out of the car and run into the house to grab the grimoire. I don’t remember the specifics, but I do know Jac said this was a fairly easy spell as long as the caster can channel the energy correctly.
But I don’t have a map.
Mumbling obscenities to myself, I print out a map of the city spanning four pages, and tape them together. Using one of the crystal necklaces I got from Lyra’s today, I hold it in one hand and Gemma’s hairbrush in the other.
I close my eyes, lifting the necklace off the paper until the tip is barely brushing against the surface.
“Where are you, Gemma?” I whisper, and imagine energy coming in, wrapping around her brush, and going to the crystal. The chair starts to move, and the crystal goes to the right side of my paper like it’s being pulled by a magnet.
I print out a bigger section of just that area, hoping to narrow down the location further. It worked. I think.
At least now I have an address.
24
Ipark a block away from the address I got from the location spell. The crystal landed on an old warehouse that sits empty for most of the year, opening in the fall to sell Halloween props and costumes before abruptly closing and storing their inventory overnight to sell again the next year.
The building is in shambles but has been brought up to code while keeping the creepy feel. The owner says it helps bring in customers, and he must do pretty well considering that’s his only business. The place is the perfect backdrop for an episode ofSupernatural, and it’s almost annoying how stereotypical the killer is.
The building has been a subject of controversy among this neighborhood for the last few years. It’s an obvious eye sore, and a rich developer has been trying to buy out the land from the storeowner. They’ve gone back and forth and even landed in court. I never paid much attention to the case, but it looks like they’re at blows again.
There’s a For Sale sign out front, with a public showing of the property in two days. People will pass through here…and discover a body.
My heart races so fast I can hear each and every beat resounding through my head. I flatten my hands on my jeans, wiping them dry before pulling my gun from its holster. Waiting until a car drives by, I get out of my car and make a dash across the street, slipping behind the ivy-covered chain link fence and out of sight from passersby.
Everything inside me tells me this is wrong. I should have called this in. I shouldn’t be going into an unknown building without backup. I’m going against every fiber of my good-cop being, but what am I supposed to do? Call this in and say a magic crystal landed here on a map? If I said I’m here on a hunch and it turns out to be nothing, I’ll have wasted valuable time and resources. I’m not here on a hunch. I’m here because of magic, and there’s a good chance I’m walking into nothing.
Silently, I move through brambles and overgrown grass, inching closer and closer to the building. It’s quiet, though it’s not like I expected to hear Gemma’s screams of horror and protest.
The smell of cigarettes fills the air. I pick up the pace and move around to the back of the building. Bright sunlight streams down on me and I squint, looking at the building. The entire thing is dirty and dusty, and looks like no one has stepped foot in it since last Halloween.
Then I see the marks on the cement path by one of the doors. The door has been pushed open and closed several times, scraping clean paths in the dust on the cement. It could be the killer.
Heart hammering even faster now, I creep forward and see what looks like smeared blood on the doorframe. It’s been wiped away, leaving behind a rust-colored stain. It’s easy to overlook, but I’ve seen it enough to know exactly what it is.
Looking around, I pull my phone from my pocket and call the station, giving my location and requesting backup. Protocol tells me to wait until they arrive, but my instincts scream that I don’t have much time, and if I don’t go in now, Gemma might not make it. I go to the door, finger poised over the trigger of my gun, and listen for a moment. Hearing nothing, I push the door open, immediately going on the defense. Nothing jumps out at me and attacks.
Waiting a beat, I close the door behind me so nothing looks out of place, and slink further into the building, going through the front of the store. The shelves are set up, and a few leftover Halloween decorations remain, casting eerie shadows throughout the building.
A set of swinging double doors leads to the storage room, which is filled with boxed-up decorations and costumes. Through there, a single metal door opens into the rest of the warehouse, which hasn’t been touched since its days as a women’s hosiery manufacturer. It’s dark and dank, full of halls and rooms that make it like a fucking maze.
Voices float down the hall, and I stop, ducking into a doorway, and raise my gun. But the voices don’t grow louder. Whoever is talking isn’t moving. I suck in a breath and turn my head to listen. The voices are muffled and I can’t make out the words.
Moving away from the door, I start down the hall again, following the voices. They echo, making it harder to understand. Then they suddenly stop talking, and organ music fills the air.
“What the fuck?” I mouth to myself. With practiced patience, I stay calm and continue down the hall, keeping constant vigilance. The music gets louder, and the tune is familiar but I can’t place it.
