AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Can we burn this place to the ground?” Nelson wondered out loud, making Nox grin.
“That’s where I’d start. Then, I’d have the foundation ripped out, purify the ground with all manner of ash, oil, and herb, cover it over with fresh sand from the sea and dirt from a freshly tilled field, and then I’d plant a garden full of sweet basil, mugwort, and chamomile.”
Just the sound of that was better than the cold, heavy darkness bearing down on them as they passed the kitchen and headed back down the hall. “I have a feeling the Hansens would be alright with that.”
“I’ll talk to Heidi about it once the investigation is over,” Nox said, but he was glaring up the stairs. “I need to take another look at the guest room,” he said caustically. But he was pale as a sheet as he slowly climbed the steps. His hand shook as it floated above the banister and his nostrils flared. “He was here and he exalted in this!” Nox hissed back at Nelson, his eyes burning with hatred and tears.
“How can you tell?” Nelson whispered over the obnoxious rising beat of his heart and the drums. “It’s you,” he said to Nox. “I can feel you getting scared.”
“I’m fine,” Nox insisted, shaking his head. “But this is where he felt most powerful.”
Nelson wasn’t convinced Nox was fine and resisted the impulse to snatch the back of his coat and drag him out when he missed the top step and fell onto the landing.
“You don’t have to do this. Here,” Nelson said, helping him to his feet and spotting Nox when he teetered sideways.
“Something’s up here. He wouldn’t have tried so hard to keep me out if it wasn’t important.”
That made sense. The evidence suggested that the girls had been brought up to the guest room and abused in ritual manners that the cult’s leader would likely have observed, if not presided over. But Nelson wondered if this Badb asshole was counting on them to track him there for exactly that reason. “What if he’s playing with you and wasting your time? What if he just wants you to suffer?”
Nox nodded slowly as his attention drifted to the door on his right, already dismissing Nelson’s concern. “I’m sure he does. But as I said, we can learn a lot about him by studying the traps he leaves.” He eased himself free and slid closer, his neck stretching so he could see into the darkened room. The heavy curtains had remained drawn as Julian had left them, along with the black sheets he’d hung to block out any light. The sheets and walls were spray-painted with red, dripping mystical graffiti and there were symbols carved and burned into the floor around the bed.
“Hold on,” Nelson said as he took out his phone and turned on the flashlight, aiming it over Nox’s shoulder so he could see better.
“Thanks.” He used the toe of his sneaker to push the door open wide, then pulled in a reinforcing breath as he sidestepped into the room. “Gah!” Nox blocked his face, grimacing as he avoided the antique brass bed and the bare mattress. Samples had been taken, the square tufts of exposed white polyester filling peeking through the stained cover. The results hinted at horrors that had darkened Nelson’s soul and he understood why Nox couldn’t bear to look at it.
Nelson sniffed and swore at the acrid smell of sulfur and something else that burned the back of his throat and made it itch. “What is that?”
“Monkshood,” Nox murmured. “Better known as wolfsbane. It’s highly poisonous if ingested and burning the dried flowers can leave fumes that are said to make a werewolf or a witch sick and repel them. He’s bombed the room for me,” Nox said, waving in front of his face. He went around to get a closer look at a bundle of burned debris and ash on the rug at the foot of the bed. “There. He used my hair in this,” he said as he lowered, hunkering down next to it.
“Don’t get too close.”
Nox shrugged as he poked at the charred bag, still covering his face with the other hand. “I’ve already come this far and what’s done is done. Glove?” He held out a hand as he studied the bomb.
Nelson pulled one from his coat pocket and passed it to him. “Techs have been all over this place, but I’ll have them come back and collect that and anything else we find.”
“Do that,” Nox said absently while pulling on the glove. He flicked the remnants of the bag out of the way and Nelson hissed as Nox scooped up the ash and the random bits of burned things, scolding him for disturbing evidence. “Here we go,” Nox whispered, shaking off something small and round. He stood and blew on it, then held it up so Nelson could shine his light at it.
“What is that?” Nelson squinted until he could make out what looked like a medallion or a coin. The designs were caked with black soot but Nox wiped it away with his gloved thumb, revealing the head of a crow with a triskelion for an eye. “The Badb?” Nelson guessed, earning an irritated snort from Nox.
“I don’t know where he found this very ancient and precious artifact, but it wasn’t meant for him or to be wasted like this.” He slid it into his jeans pocket before Nelson could stop him.
“Evidence, Nox!”
“Of what?” Nox asked, turning to Nelson. “Trespassing and magickal assault? This happened…weeks after the house was cleared by law enforcement. He wouldn’t have come until he was sure it was safe.” He scooted back off the rug, gesturing for Nelson to move before he bent and grabbed the corner.
“Wait!” Nelson whispered, throwing up a hand when Nox flipped the rug back, upending the bomb and revealing another pentacle and runes like the one in the living room.
“I don’t care about building a case against him, Nelson,” Nox murmured as he circled it. “The crime scene nerds can sort this out later if it comes to that. We don’t have weeks to wait for them to feed samples into their mass spectrometers. I want to find him now.”
“I do too,” Nelson said, attempting to pacify Nox. “But we don’t want him getting away with this because you tampered with everything he’s touched in here.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. He’s not getting away from me,” Nox promised and smiled over his shoulder. There were gold glints in his eyes that flared with vicious cunning and intent as he lowered, taking a knee. He pressed his ungloved palm flat against the inverted pentacle, grunting and wincing painfully. But he sniffed hard and shook it off, closing his eyes and humming silkily. “C’ainm atá ort?”1 he crooned, caressing the upside-down star within the circle.
Nelson now understood that inverted pentacles and pentagrams weren’t just used by Satanists, that the symbols had sacred meaning to pagans and those who practiced witchcraft as well. He waited until Nox let out a belligerent gasp and stood. “What is it?”
“I asked for a name,” Nox said as he wiped his hand on his jeans and shook it off.
“And?”
