Page 61 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Nishi didn’t look away from the road. “Where?”

“Still east,” Tegan said, then frowned. “No. Now it’s more south. It’s adjusting.”

Faith muttered, “Like it’s confused.”

Tegan’s gaze stayed locked on the needle. “Or like the relic is moving.”

The thought made my stomach tighten.

“If someone is carrying it,” I said, “then we’re chasing a person, not a place.”

“And if they know we can track it,” Nishi added, “they may be looping.”

We drove for ten minutes, then fifteen. The neighborhoods shifted from older Victorians to squat industrial buildings, then to a stretch of road lined with trees and dark fencing.

The needle steadied again, pointing toward a cluster of warehouses near the edge of town.

Tegan’s voice rose. “It’s strongest here.”

Faith glanced back. “This looks familiar.”

“It’s close to where Andel’s workshop is,” I said, and immediately regretted the reminder.

Eve’s jaw set. “We are not going back to him.”

“We don’t need him,” Nishi said. “We need the relic.”

We turned down a side road that ended in a gravel lot. The kind of place nobody visited unless they worked there or wanted to disappear for a while. The warehouses loomed like sleeping beasts, silent and dark, with only a few security lights casting weak circles onto the ground.

Tegan got out first, tracker in hand. The needle trembled, then swung hard toward the largest building.

“Here,” she said. “It’s pulling.”

Faith stepped beside her, scanning the shadows. “Any movement.”

Nishi spoke into her comms, quiet and fast. “Team one, converge on my location. Warehouse district. Bring light.”

I climbed out, boots crunching gravel. The cold bit through my coat, but my necromancy hummed under my skin, as if it recognized the proximity of something wrong.

Eve moved to my side, voice low. “Do you feel it?”

“A little,” I said. “Not like downtown. More like… a hum.”

Tegan walked forward, and the tracker needle began to jitter.

Her face tightened. “That’s not good.”

Faith’s hand went to her weapon. “What does that jitter mean?”

“It means the trail is being interfered with,” Tegan said. “Or it means we’re close enough that the cloak is reacting.”

We approached the warehouse door.

It was locked with a heavy padlock and a ward. Not a fancy one. Not a council grade one. But enough to keep mundanes out and warn a magical thief someone might be testing the entrance.

Nishi crouched, examined the ward lines, then stood. “This is not ours.”

Faith snorted. “Thank you for clarifying.”