But I already know that, don’t I? Still, I pause a second, knock on the door. As expected, no one answers, so I take a deep breath and gingerly press the door open just wide enough that I can slip inside.
The second I set foot in the small foyer, I can smell it. Death has a particular scent, especially a violent death. Cold and metallic, with an underpinning of something smoky I have no idea how to identify, it’s smelled the same each and every time I’ve stumbled across it. Tonight is no different.
Dreading what I’m going to find, I step gingerly across the black-and-white patterned tile of the foyer and start down the narrow hallway that stretches the length of the house. On either side of me are the living and dining rooms, but both are in pristine condition. There’s no sign of a struggle at all, and a small light has even been left burning on one of the end tables.
I use the light to guide my way into the depths of the house, careful not to touch anything. Not that it really matters, I suppose, as it’s not like I’ll be sneaking away from this before someone comes to clean it up. Not when the compulsion refuses to release me until the body has been taken away.
As I walk the shadowed hallway, I think back to last night when Declan knocked me out in order to get me away. Is that why I’m in so much pain today, why the walk here seemed even worse than usual? Is it some kind of psychic payback?
The sickening scent gets stronger the closer I get to the back of the house, and I brace myself for whatever it is I’m going to find. Still, knowing it—preparing for it—doesn’t make it any easier when I turn the corner into the kitchen and find Councilor Mei Lantasis dangling from the ceiling.
For a second, all I can do is stare at her. Her wrists are cuffed together and bound over her head to a chain embedded in the ceiling. She’s in her underwear, and instead of her having been eviscerated, her throat has been slit wide open—so wide open that her head lolls back on her neck like it’s going to snap off at any second.
My stomach turns, but I force down the nausea. I’m not going to puke, not going to give in. Not tonight. Though her death was different from Alride’s, quicker certainly, she, too, has been bled dry.
Unable to stop myself, I walk closer and stare up at her body. As I do, tears well in my eyes. I can’t help it. Of all the Councilors, Mei is the one I know best—and the only one I’ve ever really liked.
She’s been a member of the ACW for only ten years, which means she definitely wasn’t involved in the soulbinding of Declan and me. I also think it means she wasn’t involved in the plot to kill me, either, and while that might be wishful thinking, I’m going to hang on to it as long as I can. Otherwise, the betrayal might be too much to bear. After all, she’s spent years intervening between my mother and me, trying to get us to see each other’s side in our many and legendary battles.
She didn’t always succeed, but she did try—at least whenever she was around. She was a good woman and she didn’t deserve to die like this.
Not that anyone does. But I’m a hell of a lot more shaken up by her death than I was by Viktor Alride’s.
I want to cut her down. It’s another compulsion inside me, one that comes not from my magic but from my heart. But I can’t. Everything about this scene is evidence now.
I step forward and press my palm to her bare calf. She’s the first thing I’ve touched in this death trap of a house, and the second my skin makes contact with hers, the images bombard me, along with snippets of conversation.
Get out of my house.
How dare you.
Don’t touch me.
Then a scream, terrified and soul-splintering.
Please. What do you want? I’ll do anything.
Chain.
Rope.
Black-gloved hands.
A white scarf.
A silver athame with black sapphires embedded in its hilt.
Whimpers, muffled now. Unintelligible words. Pleas.
The sickening squilch as the athame is driven into her throat.
The ping ping ping of blood as it drips from the wound into a gold-plated bucket.
And those words again, spoken in an asexual voice. Close doesn’t count.
Tears gather behind my eyes, but I ignore them. Just like I ignore the painful heat radiating from her leg to my fingertips. Mei was a fire element, one of the strongest I’ve ever seen next to Declan, and remnants of that power exist within her. I can feel it sizzling along my nerve endings, burning a path through my body, but still I don’t let go. I can’t. The familiar cadence of the three words I heard last night once again holds me in its thrall.
Close doesn’t count.
Where have I heard those words before? And is it a male speaking or a female? I hate that I can’t tell. That everything else is perfectly transparent but those words, that voice, this killer, locked far away from me.
Time ticks by slowly as I sort through every impression I can gather from this room and try to fit their jagged edges together. It’s no use, though, not here and not now, when shades of Mei’s agony color everything that I feel.
Eventually, I give up. Not for good, but at least until I can get out of here and have a shot at thinking more clearly. But I can’t get out of here, can’t leave, not until Mei’s been found by someone other than me. She needs to be cut down, taken away, or I’m not going anywhere.
The only problem is I have no idea whom to call. This is Heka business, so I should call Witchcraft Investigations. Or the ACW, since she was a Councilor. But after what’s happened to me in the last twenty-four hours, neither of those things is an option. I don’t know whom I can trust in the organizations, and won’t know until I can get a better handle on this killer’s agenda.
Close doesn’t count.
I turn the words over in my head for the millionth time. What is this person close to? What does he or she want? And why doesn’t it count? Is it this person’s goal that doesn’t count or something else?
Frustrating as it is, I still can’t get a handle on it. So I do the only thing I can do in the situation. I call Nate and let him know where I am and what I’ve found.
Hours later, Nate pulls up in front of my house. He’s been quiet most of the ride, lost in his own thoughts, and again I wonder about how much this job takes out of him. Goddess knows, I’ve been at it only a couple of weeks and I feel drained to the very core of my being.
“Thanks for the ride,” I tell him as I reach for the car door. I’m exhausted, completely burned out, and all I want to do is stumble up the walkway and fall into bed. I won’t have long, though—dawn is only a couple of hours away, and with it comes my shift at the coffeehouse.
“Hold on a minute.” He reaches for my hand and I glance back at him, realizing for the first time that he looks just about as worn out and haggard as I feel. Hunting murder takes things out of a person that nothing else in the world does. It’s something I’m beginning to realize more and more as my magic manifests itself.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
I shake my head. There’s nothing really to say. My gift is what it is, even when it feels more like a curse. Or maybe especially when. I don’t know. All the pain and anguish is blurring together until I can barely breathe, barely think.
“I wanted to let you know, we found where Shelby was being held.”
I grab onto him then, my fingers digging into his arm as I demand, “Is she alive? Did they—”
“She wasn’t there. But there was a blue sweatshirt crumpled in the corner identical to the one she was wearing when she was abducted and the view from the window was exactly as you described.”