“Smells like sage and old Chinese foodin here.Jesus, is that blood?” Travis asked, pointing to a mason jar filled with scarlet liquid.
Iworried for a minute I was going to be sick.“Thelikelihood of her being the puppeteer of something nasty just went up.”
I tilted my head to get a better view ofanothermap that lay on the desk, underanobsidianpendulum. Over a dozen addresses hadred X’s through them. My gran’s house had an X through it.I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Look, sheXedall these addresses out but circled this one.” I pointed.The addresswas probably only fifteen minutes away.
Travis came to stand behind me. “Think she’s there?”
I ground my teeth. “Let’s go find out and say hi.”
15
“Hi,”Krystanchirped asshestepped up,crashingthe occult party of one.
The woman’s head jerked upfrom where she knelt on the ground, her shiny dark hair flipping over her shoulder. Her eyes widened in surprise then narrowed with hatredatKrystan.
The streets were empty and dark at1:00 a.m. on a weeknight, which made it all the easier to spot herin the back alley of asuburbanneighborhood in the Highlands,kneelingat the center of a circle ofsalt. Black candles were lit allaround the perimeterand a small leather pouch was at her knees.Bright red blood was smeared across her forehead.
It also didn’t hurt that most states had enforced a curfew, so if someone heard any clattering after 10:00 p.m., they tended to keep their noses indoors.
With her attention onKrystan, I easily stepped up from behind and threw the chains aroundthewoman’sshoulders and tightened them in one fluid motion.
The woman grunted in pain and frustration. “What are you doing?” she asked in an English accent. “You must let me go.”
Up close the woman was probably only a few years older thanKrystanand me. She was Asian, probablyChinese. Her heart-shaped face was as pretty and elegant as her accent. I’d watched enough British TV to recognize the upper crust way of speaking.Hermonolideyes tilted up at the corners,set over a broad nose. Those dark orbsheld focus and cunning, like she could spot trouble comingfrommiles away and easily dodge it. But she hadn’t seen us coming.
Krystan’seyes gleamed with a bloodlust I’d never seen before as sheregardedour captured prey. “Oh no, I don’t think we’ll be doingletting you go,will we Travis?”
“Nope,” I growled.
The cells in my body vibrated with grief and anger, but unlikeKrystan, I knew we had to beabsolutelysureshewas responsible for what happened to Mrs.Rits.
Krystanhadassured me in the van she could ask questions first, maim second.Despite herpromise, Icontinued to push homethe pointthat whilehergran’s death made this personal, theperson or demonresponsiblehad to answerforthe other deaths as well.But if thiswoman really was responsible for Mrs.Ritsdeath,Krystanwould tear her apart and I would stand by and watch.
Gravel crunched underKrystan’sbootsas shenearedthemystery woman like a lethal cobra, ready to strike at any moment.The look in her eye neared deranged. She was a ferocious, terrifying force.
Krystancrouched down just outside the circle to get just above eye level with the woman.The woman started to get to onefoot,so I tightened the chains with a jerk,sending her back toher knees.
Eachwordcame outfromKrystanperfectly enunciated.“I’m only going to ask once. Whatare you,and what did you do to my gran?”
The woman’s eyes blazed atKrystanthen spoke just above a whisper. “You think I did that to her?”
Ijerked the chain again. “Answer the question. The more you talk, the more time you buy yourself.If you stop talking,she won’t have any reason tonotcut your heartout righthere.”
The womanshota me a look of derision as she sized me up to see if I was lying. I raised an eyebrow.Don’t test us, lady.It hasbeen one long, tremendously shitty night.
But it had started out incredible. How wasKrystanable to take responsibility for the best and the worst parts of my life lately?
The woman continued to speak in a hushed tone. “I did not kill your grandmother.”
Krystanpaced like a caged lion back and forth in front of the woman, herchunkyheeled bootscrunching against the gravel.“Then why were you lurking outside my house like a creep right at the time of her...” Death.Krystancouldn’t say it. She shook her head as if trying to buck off any emotions that would threaten our interrogation.Her handsclenchedtightinto fists,and I knew she was fighting off the impulse to murder the woman on the spot.
Down, girl.
“Iam not a monster,” the woman said.“Iwas tracking thecreaturecausing thehavoc.”
“Looks more like you are summoning it,” I said with a nod to the candles andtheleather pouch at her knees. Probably filled with the teeth ofinnocent childrenor worse.
