Chapter 6
Thirty minutes later, as the sun was starting to set, we pulled up to a public housing project, rows of two- and three-story townhouses around a common area. I could see a playground in a little park through the buildings as I got out of the detective’s car.
The townhouse we’d stopped at was blocked off with police barriers and a couple uniformed officers standing guard, along with a pair of crime scene investigators looking somewhat annoyed. Detective Lajoie had radioed ahead and told them to clear out of the building, so they’d had to stop processing the scene and wait for us.
The detective led the way, and the uniforms held up the crime scene tape for us to pass through. One of them handed each of us a pair of nitrile gloves to put on before we went inside. I felt the same sense of despair that had emanated from the previous crime scene, which would have driven off anyone but the police, who got paid to be in such places. No wonder the crime scene guys were irritable—they clearly didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary.
“The victim’s a woman,” Detective Lajoie told me as we approached the front door. “We’re not sure who yet. Jane Doe at the moment. Definitely not any of the people who actually lived here. The coroner will have to figure it out through DNA or dental records, if he can.”
I nodded. There were a few dozen unranked sorcerers in the city. If the killer was sticking with them, I probably knew the victim again. I tried not to wonder who it was.
“Are you ready?” I asked him.
He looked me in the eye as he put his gloved hand on the knob. “Are you?”
I nodded. Expecting an ambush this time, I’d prepared a counterspell ahead of time: a spherical shield to contain the trap, using a ring I’d slipped onto my left index finger as a focus. I felt a powerful ley-line node below my feet and tapped into its energy to fuel the spell before I stepped inside.
The detective led the way in through the front door, down the hallway, and into the living room.
The smell hit me first. The furniture had been removed from the living room, drying blood covered the floor, reddish-brown glyphs on all four walls. Apart from carpet instead of hardwood, it looked almost exactly like Evan’s apartment. But this time, arriving at a fresh crime scene that was still being processed, the body was still present. I could clearly see what I’d only deduced from the bloodstains at Evan’s apartment: the victims hadn’t merely been killed; they’d been violated. Defiled.
The corpse was flayed, the skin piled on the floor a few feet away. Her arms and legs had been severed and rearranged, with her legs extending from her shoulders and her arms from her hips. The elbows and knees bent at right angles, her hands and feet staked to the ground. Without eyelids her eyes bulged out, her mouth opened as if in an eternal, silent scream.
Despite her skin having been peeled off and cast aside, she was still recognizably a woman. Somehow that made it worse.
I tried not to breathe too deep. Just do what I had to do and get out, so we could let the crime scene unit guys do their work. I turned to the detective next to me.
“Stand behind me,” I instructed curtly.
Despite his best efforts to remain professional, he looked awful. Given the energy of the place, I didn’t blame him at all. But he nodded and stepped back into the hallway.
“Alright, you son of a bitch,” I muttered to the malevolent energy in the room, “give me your best shot.” I closed my eyes and calmed my mind, focused on pushing my emotions to the back, then opened myself to the magical energy in the room.
Once again, I tasted desolation and horror and terror and pain. And once again, that malevolent force rose and lunged for me. But this time I was ready. Without even a whisper or a conscious thought, I released the spell I’d bound to my ring.
The shield sprung closed around the attack, a translucent blue-tinged sphere of pure energy trapping the magic within, mere inches from my face. The spell was strong, but I was stronger, and I’d been expecting it. To my magic-enhanced eyes, it appeared as a writhing mass of darkness, streaked with shifting veins of angry crimson and violet within the bubble of power around it.
As quickly as it had appeared, it began to dissipate, but I bared my teeth and hissed, “Oh, no, you don’t. Let’s see what you are.”
I directed my will into the sphere, into that foul cloud, and forced it to stay in place. I worked my way through the structure of the underlying spell and neutralized it, but rather than letting it evaporate into nothingness, I stabilized it. I pushed some of the ley-line node’s energy into it, making it visible to the naked eye.
I heard the big man gasp behind me as he could suddenly see the dark cloud shifting around within the floating sphere.
“There’s your evidence, Detective.”
“It’s . . . that’s . . . ” he trailed off, evidently at a loss for words.
“It’s evil made manifest, that’s what it is,” I finished for him. “Now, this next part is going to be a lot more boring. But it’s a great deal trickier, so I’m going to need a few minutes to work.”
Hearing nothing in response, I nodded and turned my attention back to the room in front of me.
I focused first on everything but the ambush spell, carefully studying every aspect of the magic in the room, starting from the outside and working my way in. There were subtle layers of energy throughout the space, and peeling them back, I confirmed the hints of Fae magic I’d expected. Faerie magic tastes differently to that used by humans or other magical creatures from our world—the Otherworld is so steeped in magic that it’s part of its residents’ very being. No other creatures can replicate that energy, and I’ve never encountered a Fae who could disguise those traces in its workings. There was definitely a Faerie present at this sacrifice.
I turned my attention to the corpse, noting without surprise that she had been a sorcerer as well, probably of about the same level of talent as Evan. That made sense—no logic in stepping back and targeting ordinary humans once you’ve started harvesting mages. That would just take longer to build up the required energy for the final working, whatever it was.
Convinced there were no further secrets to pry from the rest of the room, I finally turned my attention to the malignant ambush spell held captive in my trap. I wanted to study it, to see what I could find out about its creator.
The first surprise was that there were no counterspells to prevent such an investigation—anyone skilled enough to develop such an ambush should have known enough to incorporate such defenses. Either they had major gaps in their skillset, which was always a possibility with a rogue sorcerer, or they hadn’t planned on anyone examining their work. Such things were child’s play for someone like me. I’d learned how to study the structure of another’s spell when I was an apprentice—my first master had taught me how to craft my own spells by having me dissect his workings. And given the ley-line node right under my feet, I could easily overpower the spell and make it reveal its secrets.
Slowly, cautiously, I teased it apart, working my way through it with care. Every sorcerer develops patterns in creating his or her workings, almost as reliable as a fingerprint. More like a signature, really, as the patterns change over time, but they remain true to the practitioner’s character and mind. I soon realized that the malevolence and anger emanating from the spell weren’t natural to the sorcerer who created it; they had been added after the basic structure was in place. Whoever had built this trap was cold and calculating, and definitely wasn’t Fae. But I couldn’t tell with any certainty what kind of creature it was. Humans aren’t the only species that use magic and don’t call the Otherworld home.
Finished with my examination, I let the spell dissipate and closed myself to the energy around me. Detective Lajoie and I were once again alone in the room, with just the unnamed victim’s remains for company. But I sensed more death toward the back bedroom.
“I’d like to see the other victims,” I said quietly, turning to the detective.
He looked shaken, far beyond the simple effects of the residual energy in the house. He’d just seen, firsthand, genuine magic. Something wondrous and terrible and inexplicable, undeniably right in front of him. He could no longer comfort himself with the possibility that all of this was a lie or a trick or a fantasy. He now knew the truth, that this really was a world beyond Horatio’s philosophic dreams. It was a hard thing to accept, even for those who already suspected it. Even for those who hoped for it.
He swallowed. “This way.” He stepped past me to take the lead.
There were four bodies, as I’d been told. A woman lying on her back, limbs askew, the expression on her face one of surprise, not fear. Her neck was clearly broken, but otherwise she hadn’t been hurt at all—no signs of the torture that had been inflicted on the poor victim in the living room. Her three children were lying haphazardly around the room, looking for all the world as if they’d just been thrown in there without a second thought. From the skin lying next to her, the woman in the living room had been Caucasian, but this family were black, like most in this part of Philly. I wasn’t sure what the connection was. Maybe they were friends who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The detective had said they were the ones who lived in the house, but clearly they hadn’t been the target of the ritual. No blood spilled at all, in fact. Just four necks broken, then the bodies casually discarded.
I didn’t believe in a single omnipotent God. Not after having met so many purported gods in my life and having helped kill at least one. But I’d seen a crucifix hanging in the hallway. If Jesus and his purported Father were real, they definitely weren’t Fae, of that I was certain. But just in case, for the sake of this woman and her children, I closed my eyes and asked her God, if he were listening, to take care of them.
“We can go,” I told the detective, and he gratefully nodded and led the way out of the house. The cloying smell of blood in the living room was almost overpowering since I’d stopped focusing, and I just tried to keep it together before the emotional impact could knock me on my ass again. At least it wasn’t as much of a shock this time.
We stepped outside, and we both closed our eyes and took several deep breaths of fresh air.
“Alright,” Detective Lajoie told the crime scene guys. “We’re done. You can finish processing it now.”
He looked over at me. “Are you okay, Quinn?”
I nodded, my eyes still closed. “I’m fine. Just need a few minutes. If you thought that was rough, you should try it with full magical senses.”
“I can’t imagine,” he said quietly. “We were in there almost twenty minutes. Did you get anything?”
“Yes, I definitely did. Let’s go somewhere else to talk about it, though. I need something to warm me up after that.”
We headed to a cafe down the block from the housing project, where I ordered a black coffee. Sitting in there, about to take a sip, I only then noticed that my hands were shaking. I took a few deep breaths. The detective politely didn’t say anything, just waiting for me to begin.
“We already knew there were at least two attackers from the footprints. And I confirmed the presence of a Faerie. But it wasn’t the one who set up the trap spell you saw. There was no hint of Fae magic in its construction.”
“A human accomplice, then?” Detective Lajoie asked.
“Not necessarily,” I replied, taking another sip of my coffee. “Humans and the Fae aren’t the only magical beings around. There are dozens of magical species native to Earth. Most people just assume they’re folk tales, like Faeries. Humans spend so much time asking if we’re alone in the universe, while we aren’t even alone on our own planet—but that’s a conversation for another time. I couldn’t narrow down what type of creature cast this spell. Odds are it was a human, but no way to confirm that just from the energy itself.”
“Okay,” the big man mused, “whoever it was working with this Faerie, why are they killing people?”
“A ritual like this, a blood sacrifice on this scale, serves to build power. In both cases the victims were low-level sorcerers—I know Evan was, and I sensed the second victim’s power at the scene of her death. Which means they’re not just harvesting the raw energy from their victims’ deaths, they’re also likely channeling magical power through the release of the blood.”
“Two sorcerers, huh?” the detective considered this, then paused for a second. “What about the others?”
“Others?” I asked, slightly confused.
“The other victims, Quinn. The family.”
“Oh,” I replied. “Them. I don’t know. They weren’t used in the ritual.”
“Then why were they killed?” he asked. “That wasn’t random. Four cleanly snapped necks. They were targeted.”
I shook my head. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe they’re connected to the victim somehow. Or the killers. That’s more your line of work than mine.”
“My partner is already following up on that, trying to see if there was any connection between them and Evan Townes, or the second victim when we get her identified.”
“Good. Magical or not, the killers are probably staying in the general area, which means there might be something that connects them to the victims.”
“You said the local magical community is pretty small, right? Is it possible someone knows who they are?”
I shook my head. “I doubt it. The Avartagh’s definitely not local, at least.” I paused and gave it a few seconds thought. “And he’d be unlikely to recruit any accomplices from the community around here. It’s too tightknit. Too much chance someone would catch on and alert the Arcanum or the Faerie Court before they managed to finish their work. This isn’t the kind of thing one does close to home. If I were going to hunt down low-level sorcerers somewhere, I’d find somewhere with plenty to choose from, but also where no one knew me.”
“Alright, then. Where does that leave us? Where do we go from here?”
“The glyphs,” I answered. “The glyphs focus the power released from the victim’s death, channeling it for some purpose. We need to get those glyphs translated to figure out what the killers are building power toward.”
“Have you made any progress on that front, then?”
I shook my head. “No, I haven’t had time. But that’s not a problem. I know someone who should be able to tell us what they mean.”
“Who?”
“A Faerie. More specifically, a Faerie prince. The language in question is some dialect of High Taranic, spoken by the Aes Sidhe—the gods and goddesses of the ancient Celts. I’m on friendly terms with one of them. There are other Fae I know who might be able to translate, but Aengus will also be able to tell us about the Avartagh.”
Bran was a good source of general information, but I doubted he’d have in-depth knowledge of someone like that. For this, I needed someone closer to the Faerie Court. Aengus would do. Besides, I liked him more than Bran anyway.
“Alright, can we go see him now, or do Faerie princes have visiting hours?” The detective was taking this all remarkably well, considering he’d only seen his first spell less than an hour ago.
I pursed my lips in thought. “I’m not sure where he is right now. But I know where he’ll be tomorrow evening. We’ll have to go see him at the Faerie Market.”
“And what, exactly, is the Faerie Market?”
“It’s what it sounds like, Detective. A gathering of the magical community for the exchange of goods and services. Think a flea market, but with Faeries and sorcerers.”
“Okay, that seems straightforward enough,” he replied. “Detective Connors should come, too.”
I paused for a second.
“No,” I responded quietly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Look, I know you two got off on the wrong foot the other day,” he said, holding his hands up in a conciliatory gesture, “but she’s my partner. She needs to be involved in the case, too. And she’s a damn fine investigator in her own right, as well as one of the smartest people I know.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” I shook my head, my voice low, my tone serious. “I got angry the other day because she caught me off guard. While I don’t exactly relish the idea of spending more time with her, I can deal with it if necessary. But in this particular case, it isn’t necessary, because it’s not possible that we bring her.”
“Excuse me? What do you mean it isn’t possible?”
“There are rules, son.” I paused. “Not many, but the ones that exist are taken very seriously. Video or no video, the only reason I’ve been able to tell you as much as I have, and to show you what I’ve shown you, is because of your grandfather. Antoine was a member of the Arcanum, and members’ kinfolk are allowed—expected, even—to know the truth. But your partner has no such dispensation. And even if she did, even if I were willing to take the risk of bending the rules and introducing her to the world as it really is, Detective Connors is a skeptic who I know from my personal experience is liable to insult people who we can’t afford to insult.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her, and make sure she keeps her opinions to herself.”
I shook my head again. “Not good enough. You only learned the truth this afternoon. You don’t know what you’re doing, you don’t know how to interact with Faeries and sorcerers and other magical beings. I’m going to need you to follow my lead so as not to offend any sensitivities. A single misstep could potentially put both our lives on the line. I can’t very well babysit your outspoken skeptic of a partner, too.”
Hell, I thought, that wasn’t the half of it. While I could explain the situation with Detective Lajoie, if I brought his partner to meet with the Fae and Aengus decided that decision unnecessarily risked the safety of the magical world at large, he could cause me serious problems. He was as close to a friend as I had among the High Fae, but he had his own obligations and people to consider—and the Treaty of Tara would be against me in any such disagreement. If we were to get the answers we needed, I didn’t just need to avoid offending Aengus, I needed him on my side. The odds of that went down dramatically if Detective Connors were to come with us.
But Detective Lajoie took a hard line. “Quinn, look at this from my perspective. You’re asking me for a lot of trust from someone I barely know. You’ve proved to my satisfaction that magic exists and that you’re a sorcerer, sure. That doesn’t mean you’re on the level about everything else, no matter how much I want to believe it. So this doesn’t go any further unless I have my partner to watch my back.”
“Feel free to stay at home, Detective Lajoie. I’ll get you that translation when I have it.”
He shook his head. “I still have that video, Quinn. You’re taking us with you.”
“Knowing what you now know, you’d take that risk? I think you’re bluffing, son.”
“Maybe,” he retorted. “But maybe not. Either way, I’m coming with you. So let’s imagine what happens if I come with, we investigate this case on our own, and we leave Connors out of it. Sooner or later she’s going to realize I’m up to something. And then she’s going to try to figure out what I’m up to, and when she does so, she’s liable to catch you doing magic—the way I did—or witness something else equally damning. And then your secrets, your rules, are a hell of a lot more at risk than if you get to control how she learns about all of this. She may be skeptical of the occult in general, but she’s not stupid. She’s got an engineering degree and both her parents are scientists; she’ll believe the evidence if it’s right in front of her and there’s no other explanation for it. And when that happens, it’s probably going to be a lot more awkward than a quiet conversation in your shop. She comes with. It’s better for both of us.”
I looked him in the eye for a long moment, then looked away. Damn it. He was right. Leaving her out would cause its own kind of trouble, with at least as much potential harm as bringing her along. Plus, if I were in his position, I’d want someone I trusted to watch my back, too.
I closed my eyes and breathed for a couple seconds, trying to calm myself as I thought all this through. In and out. If I were going to bring both of them with me, I needed to be very careful how I did so. Taking a risk was one thing. Being stupid about it was another entirely.
I finished my coffee.
“Okay, Detective. Your partner can come, but you two need to do this my way, or not at all. I need you not to tell her what’s going on beforehand. You said she’ll believe it when she sees it. That’s fine, she’ll get plenty of evidence to convince her. But don’t raise her skepticism ahead of time; that’ll make it a lot harder for everyone.”
“Okay, Quinn. I’ll just tell her you’re taking us to meet a potentially useful contact. Where should I tell Connors to meet us?”
“Tomorrow night at my shop. Around ten. We’ll head to the Market from there.”
“Alright. Anything in particular we should bring?”
“No,” I shook my head. “But you should make sure to eat dinner first. And probably take a nap. We’re going to be meeting the Fae, and you don’t want to be sleepy or hungry in their territory.”
“Get some sleep yourself, Quinn. You need a ride back to your shop?”
“No,” I waved a hand in a vague dismissive gesture. “I’ll take a cab. I think I’m going to sit here and have another cup of coffee first.”
“Okay then. We’ll see you tomorrow evening.”