Page 63 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Tegan exhaled. “Okay. It’s back. But the signal is weaker.”

Nishi turned onto a different road. “We try again from another angle. We narrow it.”

We spent the next half hour doing exactly that.

We started from the cemetery edge, close enough that I could still feel that pull from the disturbed graves. Tegan activated the tracker, and the needle pointed toward the warehouse district again, but with less certainty.

We drove to the west side of that area and tried again. The needle pointed inward, then jittered.

We drove to the south, tried again. Same result.

Each time we approached the center, the needle got nervous and then went blank.

Tegan’s frustration built with each attempt. She wasn’t dramatic about it. She didn’t curse or slam things. Her control tightened, her voice got quieter, and her jaw clenched.

That was worse than swearing. It meant she was angry enough to become dangerous.

By the fourth attempt, she leaned forward between the seats. “It’s a dead zone.”

Faith glanced at her. “How big?”

Tegan stared at the tracker and did a quick mental calculation that made my head hurt just watching. “Roughly three square miles.”

Nishi whistled softly, which for her counted as a full emotional outburst. “That’s not a casual ward.”

Eve stared out the window, eyes narrowed. “That takes resources.”

“And knowledge,” I added.

Faith’s mouth curled. “So. Who can do that?”

Silence fell in the SUV, heavy and uncomfortable.

Nishi’s eyes stayed on the road. “Someone who knows how to blend suppression with cloaking.”

Eve’s fingers brushed her necklace again. “Someone who doesn’t care if the town burns.”

Faith said it flat, as if she’d already made peace with the conclusion. “It has to be Dagna.”

Tegan didn’t argue. She just nodded once, slow.

Nishi’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes hardened. “It fits. She specializes in black-market items.”

Eve’s voice was quiet. “It also fits the style.”

I looked at Eve. “Drathar.”

Eve nodded, reluctant. “The Egyptian markings, the pattern work, the way it feels ceremonial. Dagna and Drathar were connected.”

Faith’s gaze flicked toward Eve. “So they’re still working together?”

Eve didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes went distant, as if she were thinking about old fights and old blood.

Then she said, “Yes. It makes sense.”

My stomach turned, cold dread settling in. “If Drathar is involved, does that mean they’re still trying to bring his god back?”

Faith’s eyes narrowed. “Shezmu.”