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I hesitated. Every instinct might be screaming that the timing of this kill and the echoes it held to the past weren’t a coincidence, but I wasn’t about to color his investigations. We’d know soon enough if said instincts were right.
“No reason. Just curious.”
Though his expression didn’t change, a swirl of muddy red ran though his otherwise bright green aura—an indication of frustration. He knew the lie, but he didn’t push, though I had no doubt he would at some point. Especially if this was just the first kill in a line of six—six being the number of women sacrificed last time before Belle and I had stopped him.
Samuel pulled out his phone. “I’d better take a formal statement before the coroner and the dissector get here.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Dissector?”
“A non-technical term for a coroner assigned to defuse and dissect dark magic incursions such as this. Until that’s done, we can’t approach the body.”
“I had no idea there was such a position.” I hesitated. “Does that mean he’s different to a hunter?”
“They both work for HIC, just different umbrellas. And there’s good reason few have ever heard about them—don’t want to alarm the public needlessly about their necessity.”
HIC being the Heretic Investigations Center, though people often confused the acronym with the HCI. “Given a good percentage of the public here are witches of some variety, I’m thinking they’d be well aware dissectors are a necessary evil.”
“Royal witches are notoriously renowned for ignoring everything that doesn’t apply to or affect them.”
I half smiled. “Do I sense a little hostility in your tone?”
“You do not.” His lips twitched. “Though having to constantly deal with the convoluted machinations of the royal lines is enough to jade even the most committed soul.”
“Oh, I totally understand that.”
“I bet you do.” He hit record and took my statement, basically making me repeat everything I’d already said. Once done, he added, “I’ve unlocked the maintenance gates if you want to head out that way. If I need any more information, I’ll be in contact.”
I was tempted to ask he keep me updated on the investigation’s progress, but he wasn’t Aiden, and he was already suspicious I wasn’t telling him everything. “Well, you know where to find me.”
He nodded. “Good luck with the trial today.”
“Thanks. I’ll probably need it.”
His quick smile touched the corners of his bright eyes. “If you can face down Clayton in all his madness, you’ll be perfectly fine against your father.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about. It’s the high council itself.”
“As few as they are, the Society has done a pretty good job of getting the so-called ‘rising star’ progressives onto the trial bench.”
His voice held a note of contempt, and I raised my eyebrows. “If you have such a low opinion of the council, why do you work for them?”
“A question I often ask myself.” He shrugged and pulled a business card from his pocket. “Ring me if you find another ghost or get more insights.”
I accepted the card and tucked it into my pocket. “Don’t take this personally, but I’m hoping I won’t have to.”
He smiled and pointed to the path heading off to the left. “Follow that out. The shroud won’t impede you, as it’s designed to slow and catalogue entry.”
Meaning it was collecting information on whoever went through it?
Meaning if this murder was connected to those past ones, in walking through it I’d handed the sorcerer a whole lot of information about myself?
God, I hoped not.
A chill ran through me, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I turned and walked away. This time around, the shroud held the consistency of shadows rather than treacle, and I was out in a matter of seconds. The day had gotten gloomier—which was definitely appropriate given not only what lay behind me, but what I had to face in only a few hours—and the scent of rain was stronger. I probably had ten minutes, if that, to find cover.
What I really wanted to do was call Aiden. I missed him something fierce. Missed his warmth, his caring, and his stubbornness. Missed the brush of his lips and the press of his body against mine. But most of all, I missed simply talking to him—not just about cases, but anything else that might take our fancy.
But the ball was well and truly in his court now, and where our relationship went from here was up to him. I might believe he was finally ready to fight for everything he wanted—to fight for us against the will and prejudice of his mother and his pack—but actions would definitely speak louder than words.
