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“I don’t understand what those words mean together.”
“I told you,” my father said with a smile for her. “I didn’t get it, either, the first time.”
“Kelley says the missing video wasn’t caused by a technological problem,” my mother said. “It was magical in origin.”
I frowned. “Someone spelled the camera?”
“She doesn’t know, and there’s nothing before or after the blip that shows who made the magic.”
“A shifter couldn’t work a spell,” I said. “And even if they could, it’s not a very shifter thing to do. To kill someone at a party, in public, and then blank out the footage?”
“It’s pretty passive-aggressive,” my mother agreed. “Shifters tend to take more ownership of their behavior.”
“What about the fence where the killer came over? Have they found anything there?”
“Nothing,” my mother said.
“The Ombudsman continues to investigate,” my father said, and I could hear the irritation and the warning in his voice—that I wasn’t supposed to get involved.
I wasn’t going to argue with him, especially since my best argument involved telling him his daughter wasn’t a real member of his House.
“I’m going to see Lulu,” I said. “I don’t know if she’ll want to talk about this or not, but I figure I could make the offer.”
“Of course you should,” my mother said. “Do you want to take her something from the kitchen?”
It was just the kind of thing my mother would ask. “No, but thanks. You’ll let me know if you find out anything else?”
“We will,” she said. “And give our best to Lulu.”
“I will.” And hoped that would be enough.
• • •
I wanted to talk to Lulu, and I wanted to talk to Connor, not necessarily in that order. But first, I wanted to take another look at the scene of the crime.
Tonight, the House’s cafeteria was full of vampires taking their first meal of the day before heading out to their jobs in- or outside Cadogan. The smell of bacon permeated the space, and I was half-surprised my mother didn’t mention it was a bacon day. She and bacon had a special relationship.
It was humid on the back lawn, the torches and lanterns gone, the yard dark but for the occasional path lights and moonlight that filtered through the trees. No vampires, no humans, no CPD crime-scene techs. The site of Tomas’s death was empty of people tonight, which seemed equally fitting and sad.
Even if I hadn’t known the way to the patio, the scent of blood would have drawn me. It had been washed away, the scene already photographed and imaged, but it still stained the air.
The patio bricks were laid in a hexagon. There was a kitchen on one side, and a low brick rail on the other that provided seating.
I walked across the brick from one end to the other, gaze sweeping the ground for anything unusual, anything that might have been missed. I found nothing. If anything had been here, it had probably been taken by the forensic team or determined to be insignificant and washed away, just like the blood.
I checked the grass nearby, found nothing but the divots where supernaturals had scuffled in soft grass. But then something crunched underfoot. Half expecting to find a squished bug, Ilifted my shoe to find something shiny wedged between grass and brick at the edge of the patio.
I crouched down. It was a brooch, a complicated knot in a careful gold filigree. I didn’t recognize the piece or the design. But it was near the site of the murder, so I figured that made it worth another look.
I reached into my pocket, pulled out the handkerchief I’d borrowed from my father the night I’d arrived and had meant to give back. I picked up the brooch, wrapped it carefully, and put it away again.
Maybe it was evidence; maybe it wasn’t. But at least it was something.
TWELVE
I contacted Seri and Marion when I was in an Auto again. Based on their expressions on my screen, the information about the fingerprints and magical tampering of the surveillance video didn’t thrill them.
“A shifter could not affect electronics with magic,” Marion said.
