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Petra’s spectrascope started humming, finally operational. She held the wand over the bit of gauze, and it chirped merrily. “Hmm,” she said. She repeated the procedure twice, then dismissed her cousin with a flick of the hand. “You can take that back. We’re done with it.”
Dr.Anderson rolled her eyes, but left us.
“Hold this,” Petra told Connor, and thrust the vial at him. He held it out at arm’s length as she ran the wand over it. More frowning, and she took the vial back, put it in a pocket of her bag, presumably for some kind of later testing. Or squicking us out at the office.
“One more sample,” she said, then looked at me. Petra held it up, ruffled my hair with the wand.
“Much too close,” I said. “Back the spectra up, please.”
More chirping, then a sustained beep that I surmised meant the device had come to some conclusion.
“What does it say?” I asked.
Petra frowned, blinked at it. “I think it’s giving me a year.” She turned the screen around to show us the display and looked confounded. Which wasn’t an expression I saw on Petra very often.
“Eighteen seventy-two,” Roger read aloud. “What does that mean? The ghosts were from 1872? Died in 1872?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Petra said. “Could be the date of the magic.”
“The attack happened tonight,” I said. “How could that be the date of the magic?”
“Maybe the gang Rose ran with bought a really old spell and haven’t used it until now,” I said. “Maybe they’d been saving it for something big.”
“Maybe,” Petra said.
“Does 1872 ring a bell for anyone?” Roger asked.
“Not for me,” I said. “But something the year before does: 1871. That’s the year Chicago burned.”
***
They called it the Great Chicago Fire because it burned through three square miles of the city, racing northeast from a spot south of downtown Chicago. Hundreds of residents were killed; tens of thousands were left homeless.
Humans told various stories about the fire’s cause, including a lantern knocked over by a cow owned by woman named Mrs.O’Leary. But I’d learned the truth from my parents—and my (honorary) uncle Malik. It hadn’t been humans who’d started the fire, but a rogue sorceress. The Order, the organization of sorcerers, had been banned from Chicago for the actions of its member.
“What the hell?” Roger murmured, his gaze pinched in worry. He ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve got an informant who worked with low-level criminals, an attack by ghosts, and some century-old magic. I don’t know how to reconcile those things.” He looked around at us. “Do we know any Sups who were here when the Great Fire happened?” His gaze settled on me, apparently expecting vampires—with their immortality—were the best bet. And he was correct, at least as far as I was aware.
“Cadogan House didn’t move here until 1883,” I said. “But Uncle Malik was here before that. I’ll give him a call.”
“We’re getting close to dawn,” Connor reminded me. “And you’re injured.”
Because he was correct on both points, I didn’t argue. “I’ll reach out and ask if we can talk tomorrow,” I said, offering the compromise.
“Don’t you know a necromancer, too?” Petra asked.
I did. Ariel Shaw was an old acquaintance, and she didn’t have especially warm feelings toward me. She and Lulu had been close when Ariel had been deep in the throes of a magical rebellion. I’d been a rule follower and probably a little bratty as a teenager, and I hadn’t approved. I’d also loved Lulu and hadn’t wanted to lose her to someone who seemed to excel in getting into trouble. Morerecently, I’d helped Ariel untangle herself from a coven of witches with a doomsday plan.
“I can reach out to her, too. Maybe she can give us some insight about the ghosts.”
Detective Robinson walked into the lobby, arrowed straight for us. “Any news?”
“Not yet,” I said. “Any sign of Rose?” I found myself leaning toward Gwen, hoping she could relieve the guilt.
But she shook her head. “There’s no obvious sign of struggle at the scene, although it’s hard to tell given the damage. There are some tracks through the grass, and I’ve got uniformed officers canvassing the area.”
“Thank you,” I said.
She nodded, glanced at Roger. “The mayor has been filled in by our chief but wants an update on the supernatural end. We took photographs of the scene, and I’ll send them to you.”
