“You can still sense it?” Janea asked.
“Maybe I got sensitized,” Barbara replied, looking at the ground unseeingly. “She wasn’t covered, was she? She was on her back.”
“That’s right,” Donahue said. “But that was in the pictures.”
“There’s not much else,” Barbara replied, swallowing. “It’s like a strong… I hate to use the word but ‘psychic’ imprint. Not only of the necromancy but of the dead body. I hope I don’t start doing this for everyone who dies.”
“Anything about the killer?” Donahue asked. “We don’t even have a good tire track. We’ve got his DNA but…”
“No,” Barbara said, closing her eyes. “Just the… sad feeling of death with that ugly hint of necromancy. That’s weaker than the feel of death itself.”
“We can probably reach one more site today,” Donahue said. “But it’s older.”
“We’ll go there,” Barbara said. “See if there is anything.”
“Can I drive?” Janea asked.
“No.”
Even with a stop for lunch it didn’t take as long as Donahue expected to reach the next site. This one was right by a minor back road. Apparently the killer had stopped, dragged the body into the weeds just beyond the right-of-way and then driven away. The area was thick with high grass and blackberries and Janea hadn’t even bothered to try to crawl into the brush. However, it didn’t make much difference since Barb couldn’t even pick up the residue of the body.
“All the others are older,” Donahue said.
“I don’t think this is going to do any good,” Barbara said, pushing aside some high grass. “There’s hardly anything…” She paused and then stepped further into the grass. “You picked this area over?” She asked, turning her head from side to side, her eyes closed.
“Yes,” Donahue replied. “Should have, anyway.”
Barbara stopped and bent down, digging into a section of briars with a set expression on her face.
“Do you have a set of tweezers or a bag or something?” Barbara asked.
“Here,” Donahue said, handing over a long set of tweezers and a plastic bag. “Don’t touch whatever it is with your fingers.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Barbara replied in a strained voice. She reached into the brambles and carefully extracted something, dropping it in the bag. “I don’t want to be doing this, much less touching it.”
“Interesting,” Donahue said, taking the bag by the corner. “A gem?”
“Moonstone, I think,” Barbara said, wiping her hands on her skirt again. “And it’s steeped in that necromantic… stench.”
“Let me see, please,” Janea called, stepping up to the edge of the brush.
Donahue first put a small yellow marker in the briars, then gave Barbara a hand getting out of the scrub. Barbara didn’t complain; the aura from the moonstone was nearly as intense as from the dead girl. Certainly more concentrated. The hand wasn’t entirely unnecessary; she was shaken by being as close to the gem as she had been.
“That’s a moonstone, all right,” Janea said, taking the bag carefully. “And Barb’s right; the aura level is massive. I’d say that it was used as part of the rite. Perhaps a decoration on the althane or on ceremonial dress. I’d strongly suggest turning this over to Special Circumstances forensics. They have some ceremonials that might give us a better handle on what it was used for. I…” She paused, then shrugged and handed the bag back.
“This feels as if it has been used for a power repository. But I don’t know a ritual that does that, not at the levels I’m feeling from this. The writing was from an unknown source and this might be an unknown ritual. In which case, we really need to know about it; we’ve got a library of most of the true rituals out there.”
“I’ll leave that up to the SAIC,” Donahue said, pocketing the gem.
“Well, leave it in the trunk at the very least,” Barbara said, shuddering. “You have no idea what horror you just dropped in your pocket. Think of it as every concentrated scream, every concentrated plea, every drop of blood, every soul, in micro, there in your pocket.”
Donahue slowly drew it back out, then walked to the car and put it in a case in the back.
“Wait,” Janea said, digging in the small bag she’d brought along to hold her “necessary” cosmetics. She pulled out a scarf and handed it to the agent.
“Wrap it in that,” Janea said, backing away from the trunk.
Barbara, even without being able to see what he was doing, could tell when the thing had been wrapped. The aura of evil was abruptly cut off.
“What was that?” Barb asked as they got in the car.
“Silk,” Janea said. “I was so overwhelmed by the stench from that thing I forgot. But silk will stop most power emanations dead in their tracks.”
“I’m going to make some silk bags for investigations, then,” Barbara said, feeling much better with that… thing wrapped up. “And we need to suggest to the FBI that they invest in silk covers for bodies. I don’t think that being around that sort of necromantic power is good for anyone in the building, sensitive or not.”
They drove back to the Academy, dropped off the gem along with a description of where it had been found, then caught dinner at a steak house.
“I’d always heard of psychic consultants,” Donahue said, as the waitress left after getting their drink order. “And I’d always discounted them. I guess I shouldn’t have.”
“Well, the Bureau sometimes uses what we call ‘real’ psychics,” Janea said, chuckling. “At least, so I’m told. People who think they have the ability to feel psychic emanations. We don’t do that. We have a sort of connection to a god. The god, in turn, gives us certain gifts.”
“I hadn’t really realized I could do that until just today,” Barb said. “And now I wish I couldn’t. I can still feel the residue from that thing in the trunk and we haven’t really helped.”
“Oh, yes you have,” Donahue said. “Just that moonstone could be a major key. In this case, we have a solid case against some unknown perpetrator. The DNA is solid, there are various other pieces that are solid and, guaranteed, as soon as we know the perp there will be witnesses that put him and the victims, some or all, together. Just the DNA, these days, is good enough for a conviction. We just have to find him. And that moonstone could very well be the key.”
“Unlikely,” Janea said. “Moonstones are common in fandom and we’re thinking this guy is a fan, right?”
“Yeah,” Donahue admitted.
“Moonstone is relatively cheap and looks cool,” Janea continued. “You see it all over. I’d been thinking about the properties of moonstone. One of them is, yeah, the enhancement of power and power storage. But not at that level. If there’s a lost ritual that actually permits the stones to store power for a greater rite, then…”
“The stone was being used like a battery?” Donahue asked.
“Maybe,” Janea said. “That’s what some people do. But not that powerful a battery.”
“I want to know how it was attached,” Barbara commented. “Was it on a ring? In a setting? On a costume? What? I think if the… perp has whatever it was attached to at the con I’ll feel it. He… heck, I think I’d feel it if I was in the same county.”
“Unless it’s wrapped in silk,” Janea pointed out.
“The lab will be able to find that out by tomorrow,” Donahue said. “The con starts Friday evening in Roanoke. It’s small. In one way that will act in our favor; we won’t have as many people to try to sort through. In another, it will be a problem since we’ll tend to stand out if we don’t be careful.”