Chapter 17

Locating dead witches via magic spikesisn’t as easy as I originally figured. There are fifteen spikes in the downtownarea alone. Since I highly doubt this jackoff is doing all this in the middleof Montrose, I widen the search. Seventeen spikes between the 610 loop and theBeltway. Another twelve spikes in the outlying ‘burbs. Forty-four spikes inall.

“Does your fancy magic math tell uswhat range we should be looking in, Princess?”

Her head pops up from behind –surprise, surprise – a book. It’s one of my old calculus textbooks. How thrilling.“Yep.”

“Care to share with the rest of theclass?”

“Anything under 52.8 hectomana persquare foot is a complete waste of time.”

And we’re down to eight spikes. I skipthe three in the city, for now, and print out the information on the ones furthestfrom downtown. The two highest spikes – 87.6 hmpsf and 81.5 hmpsf respectively– are at least twenty-five miles from the heart of Houston. That’s a good placeto start.

One is in LaPorte, an industrialsection near the ship channel and the Gulf of Mexico. Something about all therefineries in the area raises the mana level. I’m sure if I ask Az she’ll giveme a two-hour explanation. No thank you.

The other spike is in Spring, on thenorth side of Houston. The plots are larger out there. There would be plenty ofroom for the not-Shifters to roam. Ilike it better than I like the spot in LaPorte. There is nothing in the area toinfluence the mana level.

I check the location against the listof addresses I compiled based on the names the Mage of St. Louis gave Az. None of the members of the old families livein the area, but that’s not surprising. It’s bad form to kill where you sleep.

The bark of a fox comes from the direction of the couchAz is seated on. I know that bark. It’s Ike’s bark, but Ike is supposed to beoff romping with Greta and not cuddling up with Az. The bark sounds again.

“Detective Greer says thanks for the update onClaire’s murder,” she announces. “He won’t be quite so thankful when he checkswith a few sources and realizes that Poerign hasn’t been used since the ‘20sbecause it’s scary unreliable. That’s a bridge I don’t look forward tocrossing.”

Huh? What does Greer have to do with Ike barking? “Whyis Ike here?”

“He’s not.”

“I heard him.”

She laughs. “That’s my phone. Jose andI recorded a ton of sounds last night. Ike’s my text alert. I used Jose purringas my ringtone. I wanted to set up each pack member with their own tone, butthat could get confusing. You have too many barkers.”

That explains why I heard Ike. Sorta. “Whyis Greer texting you?”

“Because he knows you won’t respond tohim.”

“When did he get your number?”

“When you sent him over to ruin myquiet time.”

Yeah. I don’t feel an ounce of regretfor foisting the good detective off on Az. Pain shared is pain halved. Exceptwhen I have to hear her whine about it. Then it’s pain doubled. As long asGreer doesn’t start going straight to her and bypassing me, I suppose there’sno harm in a few texts.

I download thirty-six hours of historyfor the sensor on Riley Fuzzel Road. The baseline for the area is around 16.8hmpsf. Six hours before the attack at Dora’s Box, the level jumped to 36 hmpsf.An hour afterwards, it hit 96.1. It didn’t drop below 85 for another threehours. I may not be able to do magic math, but it looks fishy.

“Look at these readings, Princess. Ithink I’ve found the location.”

She leaves her book and her barkingphone on the couch and balances on the arm rest of my office chair. There’s a redpen in her hand. Before she can draw on her arm, my arm, or the desk, I handher a notepad.

“Increase of 19.2… no reduction for 60minutes, which means something big was countering the Quals Effect. Spike upanother 60 hectomana. Ouch. The differential gives you… factor in Merlin’sVariable…..” Her hand moves as fast as her lips. I am impressed. I did allright in math and accountingclasses. I never cracked open an alternative math textbook. Blending physics,calculus, chemistry, and magic makes my brain hurt.

“Nice job, Rick,” she says after completingher calculations. “Since the Council frowns on draining witches to the point ofdeath, there’s no actual record of what the mana residue should be, but I’d saythis is where it happened.”

All right, then. Looks like we’remaking a trip out to Spring. The PeckinpaughPreserve out there, along with Spring Creek, is an excellent place for bodydisposal. I’ll call Greer to have him meet us there. If I don’t call Greeruntil we’re already at the site, well, he can’t kick me off a police case I’mnot actually on.

Iprint out the readings, shove them in a folder with Az’s notes, and shut downthe computer. It takes a poke to her thigh to get Az off my chair. She grabsher book and phone on our way to the kitchen. Jose, Uriah and Quinn aregathered around the kitchen table with glasses of milk and a half-empty packageof Oreos.

Princessis still in her dress and those ridiculous lace sneakers. “Change,” I instruct.“Practical clothes. Jeans and boots. We’re going off-road for this one. Grab ahat if you have one.”

“Oh,I can’t go with you, Ricky.” Az snags an Oreo out of Uriah’s hand.

“Whythe hell not?”

“That’sway too high a concentration for me. Even with spanking new shields andreinforced defenses, I’d only last four minutes. If you were there for me totry to contain the draw, I might last five. But probably not.”

That’sjust fantastic. Now I’m stuck with the commercial magic detector. Perhaps if Itake swabs and bring them home she could still pick up something. I give myselfa mental slap. I’ve worked thousands of cases without Az. She makes thingseasier, but I don’t need her there to hold my hand.

“Ican research how they’re making the not-Shifters. I don’t know of any onespell, but I think I know where to start,” she offers. She leans over Quinn’sshoulder to peer at the worksheets spread in front of the two teens. “Oh! Nevermind. History! Can I help?”

Uriahglances over at me for approval before waving a hand over his homework. “If youwanna read this boring ol’ stuff, knock yourself out, Az.”

Hey,if she wants to play study buddy, then I’m not going to deny her. I try to helpthem as much as I can, but I don’t always have time. “Teach them what’s in thebook,” I instruct. “That’s what they’ll be graded on.”

“Aye,aye, cap’n.” She even salutes. Cute. And so not going to fly once her probationperiod is over.

“Areyou two going to stay in for the rest of the day?” I ask Uriah. Of thebrothers, he’s the more extroverted. Quinn is quiet, shy. Uriah has Betapotential. Quinn does not.

“Wehad planned on going to the library to meet up with a few guys from the class. Wehave a presentation due next week.”

Notby themselves. Not after what happened at Dora’s Box. For all I know, stage twoof the beta test involves attacking Shifters. Uriah and Quinn are the twoweakest Shifter members of my pack. I had planned on announcing a new ruleduring dinner, but the four at the table are going to get a preview.

“Therewas an incident at Dora’s Box. It was ugly, and it means that we all have to beon guard for potential threats. No one goes out alone. Groups of three or morewould be preferable. Always have your cell with you and let someone know whereyou’re headed, when you’ve arrived, and when you’re leaving.”

Quinnand Uriah have only been with the pack for three years. This is the first timeI’ve seriously curtailed their freedom. Jose’s lips compress. He reaches acrossthe table to hold Az’s hands. I’m not certain if he’s trying to comfort her orbe comforted by her.

“Lockdownprotocol?” Jose asks.

“Notyet.” I hope we don’t have to go that far. The house is large – I was lucky tofind a foreclosed McMansion with so many bedrooms – but having thirteen Shiftersstuck inside together for more than twenty-four hours almost guaranteesbloodshed. “We’ll head out to the ranch before that happens.”

Theranch, as the pack calls it, is a hundred acres of wooded property west ofHuntsville. There are two doublewides with all the modern amenities, but theyhardly see any use. Most of the pack prefers to stay Shifted when at the ranch.It’s one of the few places we can be ourselves completely.

“Azand I will take them to the library,” Jose offers.

He’snot my top pick for the protection squad, but he’s all that’s available at themoment. On my way out, I’ll check with Tommy or Mark to see if they can swingby the library on their way home from work. Jose will have Az with him; I’m notsure if she’ll be helpful or a hindrance.

“Callme when you get there. Call me when you leave. Call if there are any problems.”

Josenods. At least I know I can trust him to follow the rules. Az abandons herperusal of Uriah’s textbook to skip after me as I head for the door.

“Anyspecial instructions for me?” she asks.

“Stickto Jose. Don’t do anything crazy. Find out all that you can about this spell.”

Herhand shoots out. Thin fingers wrap around my wrist. “Your rules should apply toyou, too.”

“Noone’s available, Az, and we can’t wait for the trail to disappear. Greer willmeet me out there, and he never goes anywhere by himself. I’ll be fine.”

“Iknow you will.” She smiles, but the concern in her eyes calls her a liar. “Butif you’re not, you should know that I will be very, very unhappy with you.”

“Can’thave that, now can we? It’s a fate worse than death.”

Shepops up on her toes to brush her lips across my cheek. Before the warmth of thekiss fades, she releases my wrist and retreats. “I’m so sorry that I can’t gowith you. Take pictures and bring back whatever you can. I’ll work on enhancingmy defenses for next time. Not that I think we want a next time, but bettersafe than stuck at home.”

“Youcan handle what you can handle, Princess. It makes things inconvenient as hell,but we’ll deal.” I spin her around and give her a small shove toward thekitchen. “Now go back in there and help those boys. Uriah has a C in historyand that’s just because his teacher feels sorry for him.”

Greer,four uniformed officers, and a crime scene unit are already near the locationon Riley Fuzzel Road when I arrive. The grim expression on Greer’s face is agood indication that this is not going to be a pleasant trip out into thewoods.

“Iwas just going to call you,” Greer says. “Did that psychic of yours tell youabout this place?”

“We’rerunning down a hunch. And she’s not psychic.” At least she’s not this week. Atleast he’s clear on who Az reports to. “Why are you here?”

“Agroup of Boy Scouts touring the preserve got more of a science lesson than theywere expecting. They found the bodies of what we believe are three deceasedfemales. It’s nothing like anything I’ve come across before.”

Burnedout witches aren’t common. It’s sloppy to dump the bodies so close to where thespike occurred. Given all that Az had said, I expected more than three witches.Are there more dumped elsewhere?

Onthe trek to the dump site, he doesn’t ask after Az. I can only imagine the showshe put on for him in the coffee shop. The odor burnt flesh reaches me beforewe spot the crime scene tape. I pop two mints, but it does little to mask thesmell.

“It’sabout as bad as the Box,” Greer warns, as if I’m the one in our duo who hasbooted at a scene.

He’snot lying, though. The bodies arestacked haphazardly on top of each other just off the path. A hasty dump, then.All three have the same injuries. The extremities are charred. Every one oftheir facial features is sunken into the skull. Trails of dried blood indicatebleeding from the ears, nose, mouth, and eyes.

Thewomen are naked. I use my phone to snap pictures of the symbols burned intotheir flesh. Judging by the gaping chest wounds, I doubt we’ll find theirhearts. Whatever they’ll be used for is bound to be disgusting and creepy. I’msure Az has a theory or two.

“Doesthis have to do with the murder of Claire Eras?” Greer asks. “This has all thehallmarks of radical magic. I can’t believe we have two murderers usingfreaky-ass spells to kill. Not at the same time.”

“Yes.It’s likely these women were killed by the same person who killed Eras.” There’sno point in lying to him. This is getting too big to cover up. Besides, he getssulky when he learns I’ve kept things from him. I am not in the mood for sulkydetectives.

Iphotograph every inch of the dump site. Greer asks for full disclosure. I don’tgive him as much information as I gave the Patriarch. Greer’s susceptible topolitical pressure. The Patriarch has more at stake.

AllGreer needs to know is that a warlock is using witches as his lackeys anddraining them to give himself more power. I gloss over the fact that he’s usingthe power to create not-Shifters. At this point, the police will just hamperthe investigation or make things infinitely worse. Greer doesn’t delve toodeeply into the . He just acceptsthat a warlock wants more power because they’re greedy bastards.

Backnear the squad cars, two uniformed officers are talking to a tall, thin man intailored pants and a white dress shirt. Whatever one of the officers says mustfrustrate him because he rakes a hand through shaggy dark hair. He reminds meof Matt and Matt’s prissyit-took-me-two-hours-to-look-like-I-just-got-out-of-bed hair.

“Hello.Detective David Greer. You are?” Greer steps forward and extends a hand.

“JoelOlivet.” The man shakes Greer’s hand. Distaste flashes across his face. Hecompletely ignores me. Fine. I learn more as an observer than as a participant.

“Thisis a crime scene, Mr. Olivet,” Greer says, a touch of steel in his voice. Maybehe’s more perceptive than I gave him credit for. “I’m afraid whatever businessyou have in the preserve will have to wait.”

Isnap a picture of Olivet. Something about him is off. I’d lean in for a sniff,but my senses are still trying to recover from the stench of burnt flesh. It’sa scent that lingers for hours. He’s a warlock. He has to be. He has that smarmylook most warlocks are born with.

“Ilive in the area. I heard the commotion and, like most citizens, couldn’tresist the allure.”

Fuckme. He even smarmy. I maythrow up right here and now. ‘Couldn’t resist the allure’? Who the hell talkslike that? Witches don’t ride broomsticks anymore. I guess I know now what theydid with the surplus stock of them.

I’mabout to leave Greer with the dweeb, when Olivet opens his mouth again. “Didthe criminal use magical means, by any chance?”

Greerand I exchange a quick look. Every now and then he and I are on the same page. Howdoes Olivet know magic was involved? Did he feel the spike? Did he the spike?

Olivet’seyes widen. Has he realized his mistake? I’ve heard of cocky killers, but thisis just pathetic. He couldn’t stay away from the scene long enough for thefirst body to be removed?

“Iwork for MagSens. We installed, maintain, and monitor the sensors in MontgomeryCounty and portions of Harris County.” Olivet fumbles in his pocket. Heproduces a laminated ID card and hands it to Greer.

Greerlooks it over and then passes it on to me. I commit the details to memory. Takinga picture of the ID would be a little too obvious. When I hand the ID back toOlivet, he makes a face at me.

Ah,a Shifter-phobe. Not my first encounter with one. It explain the lack of commoncourtesy. I give the ID to Greer. Once it’s back in his possession, Olivetwipes the ID with a tissue before returning it to his pocket. Smarmy,closed-minded jackass.

Greerproceeds to question Olivet. Olivet has no alibi. He was working at home alone.He saw the spike but didn’t act on it until he saw the police cars barrel pasthis house.

There’sno evidence that points to him. Not yet. My gut tells me that something abouthim is off. As Greer has pointed out many times, my gut holds no weight incourt. Which is ridiculous. It’s the most accurate bullshit detector in thestate.

BeforeI can pull Greer aside to give him a few more questions for Mr. Smarmy, myphone chimes. It’s a text from Az. She is, apparently, the officialspokesperson for the library crew. While I was examining the witches, shetexted me when they left the house, when they got to the library, when Josewouldn’t let her check out six books on animal training, and when they left thelibrary.

Twomessages from Greta follow in quick succession. One from Ike. One from Hank.

Heartin my throat, I open Az’s message.

“Home.Now.”