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“Alive?” one of the others asked.
“No. Missing from his grave,” I clarified. “I came to check on the deceased’s next of kin—”
“Why not call us?” the same officer, a young woman who looked vaguely angry, asked. Her voice was all Midwestern intonations, so I figured she was new to our fair city.
“I am a necromantic witch, officer. I don’t need to call you,” I pointed out, voice level despite her attitude. “I’m authorized to conduct my business.”
“And him?” she prompted, inclining her head toward Eli. “Half-fae, right?”
“My associate was not here. I called him when I called Gary.” I answered quickly because Eli couldn’t actually claim to be half-fae. The fae don’t lie, and Eli revealing exactly who he was would create a shit-ton of complications for both of us. The world had such an odd fixation on royalty and on the fae, so if they learned that he was the heir to the throne ofElphame, we’d be under scrutiny neither of us needed.
“I was shaken,” I said. “There are . . . six bodies inside. None are Madame Hebert. I was about to call you when I was accosted by thedraugron the street.”
“Biters don’t come out in daylight,” the woman said. “Was it in the—"
“Look. I am well aware of what they do and don’t do.” I stepped closer, hand dropping to my sword hilt as my temper flared back to life. “I grew up right here, Minnesota.”
“Geneviève is a witch, Trelawney.” Gary met my gaze and shook his head slightly. “Gen, Officer Trelawney came out of St. Louis before this.”
“Walled city, huh? Must be different there.” I smiled, ignoring Gary’s head shake. “Learning the ropes from books must be interesting.”
I walked off, leading them to the parlor with the corpses. “Here you go. All dead. No biters that will resurrect.”
“How can you be—”
“Witch, Minnesota. I’m awitch. I can summon the dead. Necromancy,draugrlocation, that’s my job.” I pivoted.
“Kid!” Gary didn’t reach for me, but he followed fast enough that he was in my path. “Do you need to antagonize everyone?”
Eli muffled a laugh.
“Sometimes,” I admitted with a rueful smile. “It’s been a morning.”
“Broussard? You’re going to want to bring Geneviève in here,” a tech called.
“Now what?” I wasn’t sure much else could rattle me here, but the tech was a senior member of the Con Crew, too. I’d seen her around often enough to remember when she got the scars on her throat and shoulder.
Inside the room with the corpses, the tech—Suzette—gestured to the floor. Under the table was a box, wrapped in silver and blue. The lid was wrapped separately, so the bow didn’t need to be undone to open the package.
“Suz?” Gary prompted.
“Geneviève Crowe.” Suzette said my name oddly, as if we were strangers or . . .
She pointed at the label on the box, and then she added, “It’s addressed to you.”
I stepped closer. “Open it.”
Inside the box were the heads of three crows, and a bright red Carnival mask. The whole mess was resting in ribbons and glitter—and crawling with maggots.
“Well . . .” I exchanged a look with Eli.
Three crows.
Me, Mama Lauren, and Beatrice?
Was this a threat against us? Was I misreading it?
“Anything you know?” Gary asked.
