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He raised an eyebrow. “I can, but you’re the one with the knife that’ll counter any magical attack.”

I wrinkled my nose but nevertheless moved forward cautiously. After once again inspecting the handle for pixie dust, I pushed the door open.

A very naked, very dead-looking man lay spreadeagled on the bed.

ChapterThree

“Well,”Lugh said. “That’s totally not what I was expecting.”

“No.” The man on the bed matched the fairly generic description we’d gotten of Gratham, so it was probably safe to assume it was him. I glanced briefly at the knife. “I think it’s safe to enter. Whatever magic was used here is almost nonexistent now.”

Outside, the sirens stopped. We had a few minutes, if that, to find anything useful before the cops took over.

“You check the victim,” Lugh said. “I’ll do a quick search of the other two rooms.”

I nodded and edged into the room. Gratham’s clothes were all over the floor, suggesting he’d stripped off in a hurry. Had he invited a lover over? Was that why he was in bed at this hour of the day? I couldn’t smell any perfume or aftershave to suggest someone else had been here, but unless they’d drowned themselves in scent, I probably wouldn’t have.

I swept the light around the room. Aside from the clothes on the floor, the rest of the room was relatively neat. There was no wardrobe and only one side table rather than the usual two. It was on the left side of the bed and was a simple open-shelf design. The torn-open condom wrapper that lay on top said my guess about the lover had been right. My gaze somewhat automatically jumped down his body. The condom remained in place, so he’d either died before ejaculation or just after, and his lover had gotten the hell out of here rather than report it or make any attempt to save him.

Which didn’t explain the fading magic, or the fact instinct said this was no accident.

I tugged off my glove, leaned over the bed, and felt for a pulse. His lips had a faint blue tinge, which usually suggested either a lack of oxygen or lack of blood flow, but there was no obvious cause evident for either. No marks on his neck, no signs of a struggle, no bloodred eyes.

Maybe he’d had a heart attack mid proceedings, but again, there was little evidence things had been interrupted. I’d have thought his expression would have been horror more than pleasure had that been the case.

Footsteps echoed below, a physical sound rather than one heard through the inert floorboards. Three people headed our way. I shoved my glove back on, stepped away from the bed, then caught sight of something under it. As I bent for a closer look, the knife’s pulsing sharpened.

Lugh glanced in. “Whatever you’ve found, grab it fast. I’ll go report what I’ve found and delay them.”

As he stepped away, I pressed the knife’s tip against what looked to be a token of some kind. There was a soft retort and a brief shower of sparks, and the pulsing in the knife died. I reached in, plucked the token free from the dust bunnies, and then rose and tucked it in my jacket pocket. A minute later, two cops appeared in the doorway.

“I checked for a pulse but can’t find one, and his lips are blue,” I said calmly.

The biggest of the two cops—big being relative when compared to my brother—glanced back at his companion. “Find out where the ambulance is and call in the coroner.”

She nodded, checked her phone, and then headed back downstairs. The larger cop stopped beside me, his gaze sweeping our dead man before centering again on me. He flashed his ID, revealing his name was James Reid and, I presumed, Holgan’s mate Jimmy, and then said, “And what might your name be?”

I suspected he already knew that, given Holgan would have no doubt updated him on everything, but I nevertheless told him. He glanced back at Lugh, who dutifully did the same.

“Did either of you touch anything?”

“I pulled off my glove to check for a pulse, but other than that, no.”

“What about that secure room downstairs? Holgan says it wasn’t open when he left.”

“It wasn’t,” Lugh confirmed. “But we didn’t go in. I suspect the point-to-point beams remain active.”

The cop raised an eyebrow, his expression sharpening. “And how you be knowing something like that?”

“I’m an antiquarian for the National Fae Museum.”

Jimmy’s gaze remained skeptical. “And the key to open the door? Hard to believe you could find it so quickly in the mess left in that room.”

“There wasn’t a key.” Lugh explained the switch and how and why he’d found it, then added, “You can ring my boss and confirm I am who I say I am, if you wish.”

“Oh, I will. In the meantime, you can both head downstairs. Isla will take your statements and contact details.”

“We’ll be heading home tomorrow, Officer,” I said.