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CHAPTER7
The next morning I returned to 27 Thoreau Street with my purchase. I unpacked the pyxis and prepared the powder as instructed. Even if it blew through the exterior ward, there was no guarantee it worked for the interior one, which was undoubtedly stronger. For all I knew, there were multiple layers of wards. I’d find out soon enough.
The exterior ward sizzled and died. There wasn’t even the satisfaction of a popping sound. I opened the back door and entered the house through the kitchen. The hairs on my arm immediately stood on end.
Bruce’s remains were gone.
I set the pyxis on the counter and listened for any noises. The house was eerily silent. Nothing seemed out of place, except…
The pot was missing from the stovetop, the one that contained the turmeric and ginger soup that Bruce had been cooking when he died. Even if Bruce’s remains somehow went poof, the pot should still be there. This discovery didn’t bode well.
I padded to the foyer and stopped. I sensed movement downstairs. The basement door was ajar. It was possible Bruce left the door open before he died. I inched closer and strained to listen. The house was quiet, much quieter than my own, except for the occasional clink of a pipe.
I slipped through the gap in the door and was immediately blown backward by an unseen force. The side of my head slammed against the door, then the wall behind it. I dropped to the floor with a thud.
“Who are you?” a voice thundered.
I struggled to open my eyes. My head throbbed from the impact. “Do you always push strangers?” I was too stunned to think of a better question, but I wanted him to believe I didn’t recognize his use of magic. Some people played dead as a protective measure; I played human.
Easily six-six, he loomed over me like a mountain towering over a stone. His head was shiny and bald, and he sported a tattoo on his neck—a symbol I didn’t recognize. The image seemed to move, or maybe that was the blow to my head.
“You have no business here. How did you even get in?” the mountain demanded.
I remained on the floor, debating my next move. I couldn’t overpower him physically. I’d have to try to talk my way out of this and maybe he’d forget about the ward I shouldn’t have been able to bypass.
“I’m here for a welfare check. Bruce hasn’t been seen or heard from in months. Neighbors have expressed concern.”
The space between his eyebrows grew pinched. “You’re a cop?” He offered his hand to help me to my feet.
“In training. Lorelei Clay.” Along with his hand, I seized the opportunity to glean information. As he pulled me to a standing position, I focused. Similar to Bruce, his mind was filled with fragments. I couldn’t get a clear view of anything, only that he was a djinn.
When his brow furrowed, I quickly withdrew my hand as well as my stealthy intrusion.
“What’s your name?” I asked, trying to distract him with polite chatter.
“Solomon.”
“You don’t hear that name much anymore. It’s all Cody and Caeden and Mateo.”
“I think Noah is number two this year,” he said.
“An oldie but goodie.”
I rubbed my wounded head. “Do you know what happened to Bruce?”
“He moved into an assisted living facility.” Solomon observed me carefully, and I could tell he was trying to decide whether I was involved in the dragon shifter’s death. I kept my mask of innocence firmly in place.
“That’s too bad. Are you a relative?”
“No, we’re old friends. He asked me to take care of the house for him.”
We stared at each other for an awkward moment. My guess was that Solomon was a cleaner, and not the kind that scrubbed your toilet.
“Do you think he has any interest in selling? Fairhaven is a highly sought-after community, and I know a realtor who would be thrilled to put this place on the market.”
Deep laughter rumbled from his throat. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Do you plan to move in yourself or rent it for him?”
