Someone had been here to open the door. And the surveillance team hadn’t mentioned anyone doing so.
I got a very bad feeling about that, and after pulling out my screen, I turned toward Connor to block as much light as possible, and sent Roger a message:Ping your surveillance team again. Doors open on carriage house; someone was here.
I’ll make contact, he confirmed.
I showed the messages to Connor, got his nod. His expressionwas grim, as were my feelings. Had the surveillance crew missed someone, or was the surveillance crew out of commission?
I put the screen away, looked back at the carriage house, and tried to tell if anything looked different from the last time I’d been there. But beyond the open doors I didn’t see anything. The exterior was pretty nondescript, so I was sure I’d have noticed any changes.
Satisfied we were alone, I nodded to Connor and we moved closer, sticking to the grass instead of the gravel driveway. I pointed to a spot at the threshold, then at Connor, meaning he should wait here. I didn’t want to be surprised, especially with my back to the door.
He nodded, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the threshold.
Good puppy,I mouthed, and got a very dissatisfied scowl.
I turned my attention to the interior. The furniture I’d seen through the window was still here, and it didn’t look disturbed. The structure had a dirt floor, and there were marks where someone had come through, but no obvious path, at least not to my eye. But like last night, I could feel that faint twinge of magic. So, where was it coming from?
I walked to the other end of the structure, then back. I had a vague sense the magic was stronger in the middle of the room, but it was faint enough that I didn’t trust my perception of it. So I requested backup via text message. Less than a minute later, Lulu walked in.
Her eyes went wide. “What do we have here?”
I looked around, had no idea what she’d seen. I looked at Connor, who lifted his shoulder and gave me what I thought of as his “It’s Lulu” face.
“What?” I asked.
“A lot of cool old stuff,” she said, lifting a corner of the blanket that covered one of the bureaus. “Empire style. Nice.”
“Magic and demons now, please,” I said, lowering the cover into place again. “Dumpster diving later.”
“Dumpster diving in a vintage carriage house is the best kind.”
“It smells a lot less like garbage,” I admitted. Because I’d done my share of picking through trash during her teenage recycled-art phase.
“Magic,” she said. “Yes.”
Frowning, she looked at the walls and the ceiling before stepping into the center of the space. She pulled a penlight out of her pocket, flipped it on. The light shone pale blue until she aimed it at the ground, which glittered like diamonds.
“What is that?” I asked. When she didn’t answer, I looked back at her. There was something very sad in her expression.
“Demon ash,” she said. “The remains of demons.”
When she slid the beam across the floor and back, the glittering continued nearly to the edges of the room.
We were standing on a demon-killing floor.
All three of us were quiet. Demons weren’t friends to any of us, but neither was death. We had that in common with them.
I had to wait for the shock and horror and sadness to wear away before I could think again.
“This isn’t the coppery ash we’ve seen before,” I said, crouching down and trying to disturb it (them?) as little as possible. “And it doesn’t smell like demon magic in here.”
“Not now,” Lulu said, crouching beside me.
She found a small piece of wood, gathered up some of the ash. It glittered like the demon remains we had seen elsewhere, but the color was wrong. It was onyx, not copper, and it was virtually magicless.
“He’s done something to it,” Lulu said. “Or to them.”
“Not just killed them,” Connor said, “but stripped them of their power.”
