I blew out a breath. It was cold comfort.
“I need to ask you a few questions,” he continued, and I nodded, soothed by the compassion in his warm brown eyes. He flipped open a small notebook and ran through the standard list: approximately what time did we discover Sophie? To my knowledge, had anyone else been in the house tonight? Was it possible she’d gone out earlier, then returned? Did Sophie have any enemies? Did she ever mention any trouble at work, any customers that crossed the line? Any issues with her boss?
Ronan and I answered his questions as best we could, but there was so much more I couldn’t say. So much more I couldn’t explain even if I’d wanted to.
Bean, and whatever I’d turned her into. Wherever she’d vanished.
Death. Something told me we hadn’t seen the last of him.
Souls.
I’d seen two souls tonight.Touchedthem. Done things to them that no human—even a witch—should’ve been able to do…
“There something else you should know.” Detective Alvarez jotted down a few notes, then flipped the notebook closed. It felt like a thousand hours before he spoke again, and when he did, his voice sounded even more strained. “Two other Bay area witches were killed this weekend under almost identical circumstances.”
I gasped. “What?”
“One just a few hours ago in the Bayshore neighborhood, and one shortly after sunrise in Rockport. We haven’t ruled them homicides officially, but my gut tells me that’s what we’re dealing with.”
As much as I hated to admit it, my gut was saying the same thing. Witches weren’t immortal, but we tended to outlast our purely human counterparts. We certainly didn’t just up and die at twenty-five years old.
Ronan slid a hand over my knee and squeezed, a little too tightly. “Any leads?”
Detective Alvarez shook his head. “We’re still gathering evidence, putting the puzzle pieces together.” He and Ronan exchanged a weighted glance. “Be careful—both of you. Whoever did this… He may not be finished.”
“You thinking hunter?” Ronan asked.
“Too soon to rule it out,” Detective Alvarez said. “But we haven’t seen hunters in the Bay in, what, thirty years? Not since the covens practiced openly. Plus, they’ve always hunted in packs. This feels like the work of an individual.”
Ronan nodded.
“We’re keeping all possibilities on the table right now. I’ll let you know if and when that changes.” Alvarez capped his pen and headed back into Sophie’s bedroom to consult with his colleagues, leaving me to sit with Ronan’s speculation.
A hunter…
Could my magic have been enough to create a hotspot? What about the coven’s magic? Sophie said they’d all been practicing—earth magic, blood spells. Hadn’t Norah taken precautions?
No, it didn’t make sense. Magic or not, there was no way a hunter did this. Hunters were vicious, brutal, and above all else—thorough. They didn't leave dead witches behind to tell their tales with blood stains and fibers and DNA samples.
They burned us, every time.
“How late is it?" I stood up from the couch and rolled my shoulders. Everything inside me ached.
“Just after one.” Ronan rose to his full height and stretched, then slid his hand over the small of my back and nodded toward the kitchen. “Come on. You should eat something."
I followed him, not because I was hungry, but because I couldn't stand the sound of all those boots.
I sat at the kitchen table in a daze as Ronan made toast.
Toast was good. Toast was normal, and normal people didn't have the homicide squad in their home in the middle of the night. Normal people didn't have murdered best friends and visits from Death.
Normal people weren’t…
“What’s Shadowborn?” I asked. The word slithered through my mind again like a snake on a far-off trail, there one minute, gone the next. I tried to hold on to it, but it was just too slippery, and by the time Ronan turned and met my eyes, I’d forgotten what I was even asking about.
We watched each other in silence for a minute, maybe two, the haze of grief settling over us like freshly poured cement, making it difficult to see, to move. We might have stayed like that all night, waiting for someone else to tell us what to do, but the unmistakable smell of smoke cut suddenly through the muck.
"Shit." Ronan popped two charred bits from the toaster and dropped them onto a plate. Tendrils of black smoke rose from their edges.
