“They said the lead crime scene tech—Buford—is in the building right now,” Murtola said. He jerked his thumb toward the door. “Want to go talk to him?”
“Sure.” Nick straightened his jacket and followed Murtola to the elevator.
“So… what’s it like being an alchemist married to a witch?” Murtola asked.
“Complicated,” Nick said, watching the elevator numbers. At the ground floor, he let Murtola out first. It wasn’t Nick’s case, and he had to be careful not to contaminate evidence.
The last thing he needed was the real culprit getting away because Nick had made a mistake. Nick could practically hear Parker’s voice telling him that his career had been built because Nick was good at his job and a good person, that his being careful was only part of that.
The front desk said that the lead CSI tech was in the break room, and as they headed there, Murtola asked for more details.
“How much do you know about alchemy?” Nick asked.
“Not much,” Murtola admitted.
“All circles have specific elements. Anchor points are the most well-known. If it was just a crack, it might have been random coincidence, but I saw an anchor point.” Nick waited, hoping Murtola was smart enough to catch on.
“You saw anchor points, meaning the CSIs should have noticed it wasn’t a random crack in the bone.” Murtola frowned. “They’re trained to look for evidence of alchemy or witchcraft.”
“Which makes me wonder how they missed it,” Nick said.
“Right. And we wouldn’t have even seen it if you hadn’t looked at the pictures.” Murtola was frowning, and Nick winced internally. There was just enough suspicion there that Murtolamight be wondering how Nick knew to look for circles on the bones in the first place.
Nick could hear Parker mocking him.What happened to “I want my attorney and I invoke my right to be silent”?
They turned into the break room, where the investigator Nick recognized from the crime scene was chatting with a records clerk. Murtola called him over.
“What’s this about?” the investigator said crankily as the clerk took her chance to escape. “You can tell your boss no, I haven’t magically finished the report in less than twenty-four hours. They don’t even do that on TV.”
“Yeah, this is actually about some of the photos. This is Detective King from Paranormal Crimes. He noticed that the bones had some alchemy circles on them.” Murtola gestured, and Nick smiled.
Friendly, he reminded himself. “That’s right. I was wondering if you had any?—”
He broke off because the investigator looked like he was choking. His eyes bulged, and Nick and Murtola both leapt forward, ready to do something, but it was too late.
The man’s body expanded and contracted, pulsing once. It was enough warning for Nick to pull up a circle. He’d been practicing creating the shield spell without writing out the circle, and it paid off. The second his circle covered him and Murtola, the CSI exploded, covering the room and the shield with blood.
CHAPTER FOUR
Murtola swore,then swore again, his voice going high and panicked. Someone came into the room, and their scream was loud enough to alert the entire building.
“Put your hands up,” Nick told Murtola. He held his own hands above his head. He trusted SAPD, but the room was covered in blood, and Nick was standing in the middle of it.
“You don’t tell me what to do, you absolutefreak—” Murtola started, but when the officers in the lobby flooded into the room, he raised his hands.
The shouting got louder until a voice cut over everyone else’s.
“What on god’s green earth is going on?” Tate demanded. “King?”
Nick didn’t move, too many fingers on too many guns, but he said, “We need to lock the building down, sir! The CSI from Durkavic’s crime scene exploded. It might be contagious.”
Tate caught on immediately. “Lower your weapons! Lock the building down. No one in or out. As of now, we are treating the entire building as exposed to a contagion.”
Nick waited until the guns were lowered and most of the officers went to secure all entrances and exits before he lowered his hands. Murtola had fallen to his knees, breathing too fast.
Nick crouched and pinched his arm sharply until the other officer looked at him. Without saying anything, Nick modeled slow, long breaths.
“The blood is how it spreads?” Tate asked. He had put on an N95 mask, making his words slightly muffled. “Physical contact or inhaled?”
