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“So the spirits say.”

“Isn’t that just fantastic.” I thrust a hand through my hair, but my fingers snagged in a tangle. When I pulled them free, a little ball of crimson floated away on the breeze. In the darkness, it almost looked like twined strands of blood, and I couldn’t help but hope it wasn’t an omen of what was to come. “In that case, look for one whose foul deeds are foretold by the ringing of a church bell.”

Belle’s eyebrows rose. “Is that what woke you?”

“Yep. It rang three times, and then stopped.”

“And when the bell rings thrice in the middle of the night, death this way comes.... I remember reading that somewhere as a kid.” She stared down at the stranger for a second. “You know, this thing could have at least waited until Christmas was over before it started causing mayhem.”

“I’m thinking soul eaters really don’t care much about anything other than their own wants or needs.” Not that I’d ever had any dealings with them, but it did seem to be the creed of evil spirits in general. “While I call Aiden, can you look around for any spell remnants or magic paraphernalia? We might be dealing with a spirit capable of doing nothing more than compelling fog, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

And I’d rather not leave anything magical lying about for some kid to either stumble over or get caught in.

She nodded and quickly left. I didn’t have to read her thoughts to know she was more than happy to get away from the heavy emotions and taint of evil that still lingered here in the rotunda.

I pulled out my phone, scrolled through the contacts list until I found Aiden’s number, and called him.

He answered on the third ring, which suggested Belle had been right—he wasn’t asleep.

“Liz? Why are you ringing at this hour? What’s wrong?”

His reply was soft, and there was someone speaking in the background. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but the voice was definitely feminine rather than masculine in tone.

That thin thread of annoyance grew stronger, which was utterly stupid given we hadn’t even gone out. “I’ve just found a body in the small rotunda at the botanical gardens.”

My voice was, thankfully, free of any sort of emotion.

He swore, and the background speaker fell silent. I wasn’t entirely sure whether to be pleased about that, if only because silence didn’t give me any clues as to where he was or who he was with.

Not that I had a right to know either.

A serious case of attraction does tend to short-circuit the rational sections of the brain, Belle commented dryly.

I did not request a comment fr

om the peanut gallery, thank you very much.

Her laughter drifted through my thoughts as Aiden said, “I’ll call Ciara and get her out there immediately. I’ll be there in about half an hour.” He paused. “Are you able to stay until then?”

Ciara wasn’t only the coroner, but also his sister. The fact that she could get here far sooner than him suggested he was somewhere other than his pack’s home compound on Mount Alexander. It had only taken him ten minutes to run from there when I’d called to say I’d found Anna burned but alive, so he was obviously well outside the Castle Rock district.

“Why don’t you just call in Tala or one of the deputies?” I replied. “It’d save me freezing my butt off, and you leaving your company.”

“Because I’m on call tonight, not them.” There was a slight edge in his voice. “Can you stay?”

I sighed. “Yes, but only if you bring me a bucket of coffee to unfreeze me.”

“Deal. Don’t disturb the crime scene any more than necessary,” he said, and hung up.

I stared at the phone for a moment, then shoved it back into my pocket with perhaps a little more force than was necessary.

Belle, are you finding anything untoward out there?

Not a goddamn thing. I’m on my way back.

I knelt beside the stranger but didn’t touch him. I really didn’t need to at this point—the emanations of what was basically a metaphysical rape still rolled from his skin. The horror of it continued to push at my mind, but it was fading as fast as his flesh was cooling.

If I wanted to find out what had truly happened here, I needed to use my precognition and psychometry skills before the heat totally left him. The brain didn’t die the minute the heart stopped—generally; there was up to a six-minute window of survival, after which deterioration began if the heart wasn’t restarted. Even then, some levels of memory could be affected, particularly short-term.

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