Grave Dance (22 page)

“What can I do for you?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and rocking back on my heels.

“Could you stop with the glowing eyes for a moment?”

“No, actual y I can’t.” I’d been peering across planes for at least an hour at this point, and my regular eyesight was least an hour at this point, and my regular eyesight was definitely shot by now. If it had been the middle of a very bright, sunny day, and if it hadn’t been going on nearly twenty-four hours since I’d last slept, I might have been wil ing to hope my eyesight would adjust once I closed my shields. But it was the middle of the night and I was physical y exhausted even without factoring in the amount of magic I’d used. I wasn’t wil ing to spend the rest of the night in utter darkness. Especial y not here.

“Fine.” But her tone didn’t agree. A high-pitched keening sound cut through the air and I glanced around, startled.

Nori either didn’t notice the sound or it didn’t concern her because she continued without pausing, “I got word that an anonymous informant clued Detective Matthews in on the presence of a body on the grounds.” She nodded to where the cadaver dogs were sweeping the lot. “I’m going to assume that cal came from you.”

As I couldn’t deny it, I decided to remain silent. A search of the abandoned tent city had turned up a single left foot, apparently stil encased in a boot. The cadaver dogs were now searching the banks, but I knew they wouldn’t find anything else. Not nearby at least.

When I didn’t answer, the keening I’d heard a moment before sliced through the air again.
Is Nori doing that?
Or was it coming from behind her? I shuffled sideways and shot a surreptitious glance over her shoulder. A double pair of iridescent dragonfly wings almost blended in with her dark suit where they were tucked tight against her back.

The wings sprouted from somewhere near Nori’s shoulder blades and trailed down to her calves like a membranous cape, but I would have missed them completely if the strobing lights from the police cars and fire trucks hadn’t been reflecting off the thick veins. Her wings twitched in time with the fingers she strummed against her elbow as she watched me, and as they rubbed together, they emitted the strange, high-pitched screech I’d heard earlier.

“Should I take a guess how you knew the foot was on the

“Should I take a guess how you knew the foot was on the scene? Maybe you placed it there.”

“You know how I knew,” I said, and then cursed inwardly.

She’d just gotten my admission to making the cal . Of course, it wasn’t like my ability to sense the dead was the secret I was hiding.

Nori smiled, flashing a double row of needle-thin teeth. I tried not to show a reaction, but by the way her smile spread, I knew my face had given me away.

“Here is the way I see it, Miss Craft,” she said, that strange keening sound fil ing the air again. “There is a second rift al owing the Aetheric to bleed into the mortal realm. There is compel ing proof to suggest that you were responsible for the first known tear, which means you likely caused this one as wel . The proximity to a crime scene means the two are likely connected. That alone is enough evidence to have a fae summoned to Faerie while further investigations occur.”

“I—”

She cut me off with a wave of her hand. “Even if the two are later proven not to be connected, the current evidence
looks
damning, so that fae should be taken back to Faerie for his or her own protection. Humans can be ruthless to those they don’t understand.”

I swal owed. She was threatening me. There was no denying at this point that she knew I had fae blood, and she wasn’t giving me an option of
not
going to Faerie.
Will she
slap cuffs on me and drag me off right here and now?
My gaze shot past her head, searching for Falin. He was near the gate, talking to two men in suits who I was pretty sure I’d seen identify themselves as working for the Ambassador of Fae and Human Relations. I met Falin’s eyes, just briefly, but hopeful y long enough to convey that I could seriously use an intervention. Then I focused on Nori again.

“I didn’t open that tear,” I said, instil ing as much certainty in my voice as possible.

She frowned. She couldn’t insist that I was both fae She frowned. She couldn’t insist that I was both fae enough to be held under fae laws but human enough to lie.

Though I supposed she could stil drag me to Faerie under the pretense of protecting me from humans who
perceived
me as being able to open rifts.

“Is there a problem, Agent?” Falin asked as he joined us.

And the cavalry arrives.

“Sir.” Agent Nori stood straighter, her wings flaring behind her. “I believe this . . . person . . . should be detained and transported to Faerie immediately,” she said, and then repeated the scenarios and reasoning she’d given me a moment before, though this time the tone of her delivery held no threats—it was just the facts of her case.

Falin listened to her recitation and my pulse beat double time despite the exhaustion and chil as he nodded at several of her points. If she hadn’t been talking about me or suggesting the gross violation of personal freedom, I’d have thought she made a compel ing case, which wasn’t reassuring. When she final y finished, Falin rubbed his chin for a moment, as if weighing the decision.

He won’t really let her cart me off to Faerie, will he?
I didn’t actual y know.

I glanced behind me at the cops who were processing the crime scene. I spotted several familiar faces working the site, John among them, which was a relief. The NCPD

wouldn’t interfere if Nori arrested me, but she couldn’t just make me disappear into Faerie. I was a legal citizen and I had friends who would make sure I was granted due process. Of course, that relied on someone knowing what had happened to me. I took a step back, closer to the gate, and prepared to cause a scene if it came to that.

Thankful y, it proved not to be necessary.

After a moment of deliberation, Falin shook his head. “I think taking her to Faerie now would be premature.” He turned to me. “Miss Craft, you are appearing too frequently in this investigation. If you value your time in the mortal realm, I suggest you consider your actions very, very realm, I suggest you consider your actions very, very careful y.”

I nodded, trying to look properly admonished and frightened, which considering that the idea of being dragged to Faerie scared the crap out of me, wasn’t hard.

Besides, the pompous delivery of Falin’s threat might have been for Nori’s benefit, but I knew ful wel that he meant every word of it.

A film crawled over Nori’s multifaceted eyes from the outside toward her nose and back—
a blink?
—and she said, “Sir, I’d like it on the record that I think it is in the best interest of the queen, the fae, and even Miss Craft herself if she were removed to Faerie.”

“Duly noted, Agent. You’re dismissed.”

She stared at him, that keening sound issuing from her wings, the disharmonious notes rising in decibels until the sound grated in my head like nails down a chalkboard.

Falin turned his back on her, accenting her dismissal.

“Miss Craft, since you are at the scene already, there are a few matters I’d like to discuss with you,” Falin said in the same professional but antagonistic tone he’d been using since he interjected himself in the situation, but as Nori stormed off his voice dropped. “She’s going to cause trouble,” he muttered, shaking his head.

He ran a hand through his hair, the movement stiff, jerky, and I frowned as I studied the exhaustion written across his face. I myself felt ready to drop, and while he’d gotten a few more hours of sleep than I had, he was also healing from a nearly fatal wound.

“You okay?” I asked as I touched his arm. Why do people do that? Touch people they’re concerned about? What comfort or reassurance can it real y give? But I didn’t even think about it; I just flowed into his space and reached out as if we had some sort of history instead of an acquaintance that would equal less than a week if al the moments we’d actual y spent together were added up.

Falin looked at where I touched his arm, and a smal Falin looked at where I touched his arm, and a smal smile crooked one edge of his lips. The expression didn’t change a single line of the exhaustion in his face, but it did make him look less haggard, not quite so worn down. He covered my hand with his gloved one and squeezed my fingers gently. Then he stepped back out of reach and straightened, becoming once again the no-nonsense FIB

agent in charge.

“Come on,” he said, turning toward the gate. “You came out here to walk this scene. Your presence has already done al the damage it can, so let’s check out this ritual and get out of here.”

Chapter 20

I
signed in with the uniformed officer manning the gate. I sure as hel didn’t have clearance to cross the crime tape, but there were so many different agencies on the scene, I don’t think the harassed man knew who was supposed to have access to where. I had an FIB escort, and that was good enough for him. Preventing the scene from being contaminated was a lost cause anyway. With the skimmers, Bel ’s security and lawyers, Lusa and her cameraman, the paramedics and healers, and the magical scuffle that had occurred, the week-old murder scene was a mess. I didn’t envy John his job.

And speaking of... “Hey, John,” I said as I approached my favorite, but currently very exasperated, homicide detective.

“Alex?” He cocked his head to the side, which, considering that he was the lead detective and I’d just walked into a crime scene, was a better response than I’d expected. Then his gaze landed on Falin and his posture stiffened. “Detective Andrews, this is a crime scene.”

“Agent, actual y,” Falin said, flashing his FIB badge.

I could almost see wheels turning behind John’s eyes as he looked at the badge and refit Falin into a new box in his mind, reevaluating the events of a month ago and the Coleman case with the new knowledge that Falin was FIB.

Final y he nodded.

“Alex, I don’t particularly need you here, so unless . . . ?”

John tilted his head, the implied question going to Falin.

“I’d like her to walk the scene.”

“Fine.” John jerked his head in a curt nod. I don’t think he

“Fine.” John jerked his head in a curt nod. I don’t think he meant to project it, but when he focused on me I caught the disappointment in his gaze. Then he turned back to the CSI and ABMU officers he’d been talking to before we’d approached.

The dismissal stung almost as much as the look I’d seen in his eyes, and I stood there stunned for a moment. I mean, I’d been the one who cal ed him with the tip about the body, and we were both out here in the middle of the night searching for clues about who’d caused this nightmare. Of course, he was a cop, so looking for murderers was his job, not mine, and the FIB and the police didn’t have the most solid working relationship. My showing up on the scene with Falin probably made it look like I was throwing my support to the enemy. With that in mind, I tried not to take it personal y, but as I walked away my footsteps felt heavier than they had before, the exhaustion pressing on me worse.

I would have liked to head straight for the rift, but as far as anyone knew, my specialty was only the dead. I had appearances to maintain, so Falin led me to the bridge and the dilapidated tent city first. The booted left foot had been found amid a pile of shoes inside a fire barrel. No one had told me how many shoes had been col ected as evidence, but I’d heard two techs mention that al the empty shoes had been rights. The one left in the bunch contained a foot.
So
what is happening to the right feet?
Or the rest of the bodies, for that matter.

I stretched my senses as we walked. Many of the tents and lean-tos sported charms and one or two were even warded, which surprised me, though I guess it shouldn’t have. I didn’t spend a lot of time considering Nekros’s homeless, but it could happen to anyone—norm, witch, or fae alike. I took a moment to examine each of the charms my senses brushed against, but most were charms to prevent leaking or to discourage spiders. None felt malicious or carried the magical signature from the feet or constructs.

constructs.

“Let’s move on,” I said once we’d walked the entire encampment.

As we headed back up the bank, I tripped on an empty bottle half buried in the loose stones and only Falin catching my elbow and steadying me kept me on my feet. I glared at the offending bottle, but the real problem was my own exhaustion. I wasn’t sure when I’d started trembling, but I’d been doing it for a while and I couldn’t stop. I’d been straddling the chasm between the living and the dead—as wel as a couple of other realities—for too long.
I’m going to
pay for this later.

But for now I needed to hold on to my grave-sight a little longer. At least until I could get a good look at whatever ritual had happened around the rift. It might have been better if I’d walked the whole scene and not drawn attention to my interest in the rift, but if I was going to see that hole, I needed to do it now-ish. I said as much to Falin. His lips thinned to a grim line, but he nodded and led me on a more direct path.

“I think we have enough cadaver dogs on the scene already,” a snide voice said as I drew near the rift.

The skin along my neck prickled. Jenson.
Haven’t I dealt
with enough for one night?
Unlike Nori or even Lusa, Detective Jenson wasn’t someone I could hope I’d never see again once the case was over. He was John’s partner, and I didn’t know if he blamed me for John’s getting shot and that was what was with the attitude for the last few weeks, but it would be better for everyone involved if we could at least be civil toward each other. So I forced a smile I didn’t feel as I turned toward his voice. And then I froze in my tracks.

Jenson stood a couple of yards away, his thumbs in his waistband, his right hand suspiciously close to his gun. But that wasn’t what stopped me; what gave me pause was his face. His jaw was wider than normal, and it jutted forward in an underbite that provided room for the two tusks an underbite that provided room for the two tusks protruding from where his lower cuspids should have been.

The tusks curled over his upper lip, the skin around them dark and cal oused from years of contact.

“What are you staring at, Craft?” he asked, glaring at me.

I shook my head, blinking. His image didn’t change. The rest of his face was normal and exactly the same as always. It was just his jaw and mouth that were different. His soul glimmered a normal bright yel ow, which I’d come to associate with humans.

“Trol blood?” It was a testament to how tired I was that I asked the question out loud. I tried to bite the words back as soon as they escaped my mouth, but of course, by then it was too late.

Jenson’s expression darkened as the color built in his face. “Oh, so you can figure that out, can you?” He stalked forward. “Look at you. Homicide’s darling is a fucking faerie in hiding. Who would have guessed?”

As Jenson crowded my space, Falin moved to block his path, but I touched his arm, stopping him. This was something Jenson and I had to work out for ourselves. In the years I’d been working with the cops, I’d learned that for some of them, there were only two ways for me to earn any respect: be helpful in putting the bad guys away and be able to hold my own. Jenson had always been one of the former—or so I thought—but if he was swinging toward the latter, Falin running interference for me would only make things worse.

So I stood up straighter, exaggerating the inch or two of height I had on Jenson and tried to minimize my trembling.

Jenson had decided to get in my face, and though I wasn’t about to get in a catfight at a crime scene, I would meet his chal enge.

“That’s a rather ironic insult, al things considered,” I said, my voice low since it didn’t have to carry far at this distance. I let my gaze flicker to one tusk so he knew exactly what I was talking about.

exactly what I was talking about.

The blotchy color fil ing his cheeks flushed a deeper crimson. “You think that’s funny?”

Funny?
“I’m not fol owing. Do you have a problem with me?” My newfound heritage? My job? My abilities? What exactly was he lashing out at? Yeah, I’d figured out he was feykin, but it wasn’t like I was going to out him.

“Yeah, I have a problem with you.”

I stared at him, waiting. “Okay. What’s the problem?”

Jenson sneered, his upper lip rol ing back from his tusks.

Then he brushed past me, knocking me with his shoulder hard enough to send me stumbling. I kept my feet under me, but only just barely.
What the hell was that about?

I glanced at Falin, who looked just as perplexed as he watched Jenson’s retreating back. Jenson’s issues with my, or maybe his, heritage—or whatever his issue was—

wasn’t a problem I needed to waste energy on tonight.

Time was slipping away from me, the night speedily rushing toward morning. I closed my eyes for a moment, no more than a second, and the world felt like it swayed around me.

Damn.
I needed to wrap this up, get home, and get some sleep before I col apsed where I stood—which was starting to feel like a real possibility.

I turned my attention to the tear in reality.

I wasn’t sure what the area looked like if viewed just on the mortal plane, but with my psyche crossing several planes of existence, the scene was a mess. Residual magic hung in the air and pooled on the ground in murky patches. The smel of burned grass stung my nose, and the evidence of a struggle showed both in the way the Aetheric moved around patches of magic it didn’t like and on the ground. Numbered plastic markers littered the area, alerting the techs to evidence that needed to be processed.

Most marked footprints, but here and there I saw a rune drawn in the dirt. Or at least what was left of a rune.

Footprints obscured most, and the one that had drawn my attention on TV had a long tunnel of dirt bisecting it where it attention on TV had a long tunnel of dirt bisecting it where it looked like someone’s heel had been dragged across the ground.

Damn.

I walked closer, trying to find some pattern in what remained of the runes. I felt the residue of the circle as I reached the outer edge, and I stopped before crossing it, letting my senses stretch. Unlike the charms I’d felt in the tent city, the circle definitely held the signature of the witch behind the murders and I shivered at the touch despite the fact that a magical circle was completely neutral magic.

“This is where the witch cast the circle.”

“I guessed that much,” Falin said, and when I glanced at him in surprise, he pointed toward the ground. “That’s where the dead grass starts.”

I blinked and looked around.
All
the grass was withered and gray in my grave-sight, so I never would have known that if he hadn’t told me.
What kind of ritual kills all the
grass in the area?

I had no idea, but there was only one thing left to do.

I crossed the edge of the circle.

Crossing someone else’s circle, even one long ago dispel ed, into someone’s ritual space is always a little uncomfortable for a sensitive. The area is almost guaranteed to be saturated with that witch’s magic, and even the trace of beneficial and friendly magic can be overwhelming. Not that I was expecting friendly spel s on the other side of this barrier.

What I expected even less was to find no magic at al , but that was exactly what I found.

I blinked. Over the last few hours I’d grown so accustomed to seeing the world through hazy swirls of Aetheric that their sudden absence was jarring. I glanced behind me. Outside the edge of the circle the Aetheric stil hung over the world, but inside the circle there were only a few thin wisps, like what the skimmers had been drawing from the tear. I’d heard of magical dead spots before, but from the tear. I’d heard of magical dead spots before, but that wasn’t what I was looking at, and I knew it. This was more like depletion.
But what kind of spell uses
that
much
energy?

Something major, that was for sure, and whatever it was, I definitely didn’t like it.

I squinted. I wasn’t used to my grave-sight opening multiple planes of existence to me, but I knew there were more planes than I had names for. I occasional y caught glimpses of different planes that didn’t “fit” with the land of the dead or the Aetheric, though those two were my only constants. Now I
tried
to look for another plane, one that might give me a hint of what had happened in this circle.

Colors splashed across the world. They weren’t the vivid, swirling colors of the Aetheric, but colors that seemed to emanate from inside objects and space. I’d seen this plane before, and from what I’d gathered, it absorbed the emotional resonance of the people who brushed against it.

Around the rift I could make out the bright, blissed-out spots where the skimmers had stood, but those were just splashes of color, already fading. Under them, in the very center of the tear, was the most bril iant light I’d ever seen. It was no color, or al colors—I couldn’t be sure. It created a silhouette of light instead of shadow. I stared at it, realizing this was the profile of the witch we were looking for, but I could glean no details from the shape except that the witch had stood in that very spot and felt hope . . . joy.

Hope and joy?
What had happened in this circle? Had I been wrong about who cast it?

I turned, walking farther from the tear, and then I stumbled because as soon as I left the glow of the witch’s hope, the air turned thick with a deep stain of pulsing red.

The color bled up from the ground and throbbed against my skin.
Fear. Pain. Desperation.
I crashed to my knees. I could almost see the shadows of rage closing in around me, as they twisted and writhed in the circle. The very air hummed with anger, prickling my flesh and burning my hummed with anger, prickling my flesh and burning my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

I slammed my shields closed, blocking out the dead, the color, the rage, the pain. Darkness fel over me, and I welcomed the sudden lack of sight as I sucked down gulps of the night air.

“Alex, what happened?”

Falin.

He was beside me, his hands on my arms as he tried to help me stand. I let him.

“They died here,” I whispered. “So much pain. So many people.” And the witch had stood in the center of al that misery and had felt hope.

I didn’t tel the police what I’d seen. The anti–black magic unit had both an auramancer and a wyrd clairvoyant who could tap into the reality I’d touched if the cops real y wanted to know what the victims had felt, though I wouldn’t have wished what I’d just felt on anyone. When I saw John tomorrow—or real y, later today, as it was long past midnight now—I would tel him that I’d sensed only one witch in that circle. That was something he needed to know.