Page 112 of Bone Year

“That one.”

“How—”

“Simple echo-charm. It’s a trick fae mothers use to find their children’s lost things. Don’t get excited. I can only do it with objects that want to be found, and keys almost always want to be found. It’s why keys are always in the last place you look but are almost never actually lost.”

“You’re a little bit of a mage, Luxanna.” Ellavee sticks out her tongue teasingly.

“I’m fae, Ellavee, and I swear to the gods if you call me a mage one more time⁠—”

“Shh.”

We cross back to the morgue door. Lux slides the key into the lock. It turns with a soft click. The door opens inward, and the temperature plummets. The cold is not the cold of outside, rather the cold of a room that has been deliberately kept that way.

I notice the clean chemical smell of a place that has been scrubbed.

“Okay,” Lux whispers, “I’ll keep watch and signal you if anyone’s coming.”

“What signal?”

“I’ll tap the door twice.”

“Got it.”

Ellavee and I slip inside.

The morgue is small for a clinic this size. Stone walls, stone floor, a central examination table with a drain beneath it, and a bank of drawers set into the far wall. Twelve of them, each with a small card in a brass holder at the end.

We start reading the cards.

“Vaturi, S.” Ellavee has already found it. Middle row, third from the left.

She pulls the drawer, and it slides out on smooth runners. Senna comes with it.

She’s under a sheet pulled to her collarbones. Her hair has been arranged flat against her scalp, the lavender streak still visible. Her face is… I’m not ready. I thought I was ready.

“Maelis,” Ellavee says.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

I recall months of Professor Rowan’s voice in my head and Professor Cane’s lectures about vampiric physiology. Senna is a blood year, a vampire, and I am a healer. I am a bone year who is not supposed to be in this room, but I am a healer.

“Pallor’s consistent with exsanguination,” I say quietly. “No signs of livor mortis, consistent with extreme blood loss before death.”

“Her fangs are retracted,” Ellavee murmurs. “That fits too. Vampires retract on death. The body knew it was dying.”

“Good.”

“Not good.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

We work our way down. Neck first, because that’s the obvious place. There’s nothing. Not a mark. Her throat is clean.

“That’s strange,” I say.

“I know.”