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Once I neared the top, I paused, switched on the flashlight, then scrambled the rest of the way up, my pulse beating so loud it felt like a drum. Nothing attacked me. Nothing stirred except dust. I swept the light around, spotting lots of mess but no immediate reason for the weight.
I climbed fully into the loft and then stood, pointing the light toward the location of the weight, which was close to Mom’s beloved reading chair. The somewhat wonky crocheted rug I’d made to warm her knees when I was barely a teen—my first andonlyattempt at a crotchet rug—remained draped over the leather arm where she’d left it. Her pillow had been tossed onto the floor, though, its stuffing bursting through a new slash in the material. The pile of to-be-reads that had been sitting on the coffee table earlier were now scattered over the floor, and the table itself overturned. My gaze flicked over to the bookcases. Ornaments had been smashed, books had been pulled from the shelves, some torn apart. That was malicious damage, nothing more, as all the torn books resembled the Codex’s original form. Obviously, they’d been checking each one to see if it was the right one, and then destroying them when they turned out to be wrong. Vincentiahadseen the Codex immediately after the bonding ceremony had changed its form, but she hadn’t believed it was the real thing. Her employers obviously didn’t either.
Either that, or she’d simply not passed the information on to them.
“Anything?” Sgott said.
I glanced down and met his gaze. “Lots of mess, but no sign of anyone and nothing to explain the weight I’m feeling just yet.”
“Are all the skylights locked? Because if they’re not up there, and they didn’t leave through either door or a window, it’s the only other option of escape.”
I raised the light and scanned the roof. Gran had added the skylights when she’d first decided to make the loft her retreat—though she’d done so surreptitiously, because the fae council had very dim views on anyone altering the physical appearance of heritage listed buildings, even if said changes couldn’t be seen by the public.
The first two skylights were locked, but the third—which had a latch so unreliable that Gran had looped a bit of wire around the handle then tied the other end to a nearby crossbeam to keep it secure—was open.
“They’ve gone out through the roof,” I said.
He grunted. “I’m coming up.”
I nodded and moved left. That’s when I saw the boots.
Boots that were connected to legs.
“Sgott, we have a body. It’s behind Mom’s chair.”
His head popped up through the loft entrance, though the rest of him remained firmly on the loft ladder. “Unconscious? Dead?” He paused, his nostrils briefly widening. “Definitely the latter. I can smell the blood.”
Thankfully, Icouldn’t.
I trained my light on the chair, but from his position wouldn’t have been able to see the feet. I hadn’t. “I’m not seeing any blood splatter.”
“The killer might have cleaned it up or perhaps used some sort of containment magic. Do you want to go closer, or would you prefer to retreat and let us deal with it?”
“I’m not going anywhere until I know if it’s a stranger or a friend.”
Not to mention checking whether the Codex remained in place. The flue’s secret compartment didn’t look to have been disturbed, but it was hard to be sure from this angle.
“Be careful,” Sgott said, and tossed a pair of silicon gloves at me. “And wear these.”
I pulled on the gloves and warily moved forward.
“The boots look to be a woman’s rather than a man’s,” I said. They were also deep emerald green, a color that had been favored by both Mom and Gran. It couldn’t be either of them, of course, but that didn’t discount the possibility of it being a relative.
Itwasa bit of a logic jump, of course, especially given the destruction done to the door—something no reasonable pixie would have stood for. But I just couldn’t escape the notion that there was pixie involvement in this break-in or the possibility of it being a relative.
It was unlikely to be one ofmyrelatives—I had few enough of them left after all—but it could possibly have been one of Vincentia’s, on her dad’s side. He’d divorced Aunt Riayn decades ago, but I knew Vincentia had kept in contact with not only him, but her cousins, aunts, and uncles.
It’d be just like her to drag one or more of them into this mess. She might be intent on protecting the Looisearch’s asses, but she wasn’t dumb, and she wouldn’t risk the possibility of them finding the Codexandanother Aodhán relative who could use it.
Just because the triune had been directly handed down to the first-born daughter inmyfamily didn’t mean a woman whose connection to us was distant or indirect wouldn’t be able to use it if we all died out. If I was killed, Vincentia and then my aunt would be the next in line. After that, the triune would fall into the hands of whoever was our next closest living female relative.
“How’s she positioned?” Sgott said. “Can you see any obvious signs of injury?”
I swept the light up her body. She was wearing jeans and a thick hoodie, the latter pulled up over her head so that her hair was hidden. Her build was indistinct thanks to the bulkiness of her clothes, but she appeared to be reasonably tall—at least my height, if not more. “She’s face down, but I can’t see an injury yet.”
“Check her pulse but please, be careful.”
I edged forward cautiously. When I was absolutely positive she wasn’t about to jump up and attack me, I squatted beside her and felt for a pulse. Her skin retained some warmth, but there was no beat of life.
