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“Anything?” Sgott asked.

“No pulse, but I don’t think she’s been—” I stopped, suddenly spotting her right hand.

A hand that was stretched out in front of her, as if pleading for help or perhaps even mercy.

A hand that was missing two fingers.

Horror bloomed through me, and I instinctively pushed away from her, landing with a grunt on my butt several feet away.

Itcouldn’tbe Vincentia.

Couldn’t be.

She was under the rule of the red knife. It was impossible for her to have left the defined boundaries of their home and prison. The magic simply would not have allowed it.

“Bethany?” Sgott said urgently. “What’s wrong?”

I swallowed to ease the dryness in my throat and somehow said, “I think it’s Vincentia.”

“Impossible.”

“Yeah, I know, but here we are.”

He swore. “Don’t touch her. I’ll get Frankie up here to record the scene and then we’ll roll the body over.”

Frankie, if I remembered rightly, was one of the wolf shifters who worked for Sgott. I nodded, even though he’d already disappeared back down the ladder to make the call, and slowly rose. I didn’t look at the body of the woman who might well be my cousin, moving instead over to the old wood heater. The Codex remained in the flue’s hidden compartment. Now that I was closer, I could feel the pulse of its presence through the Eye.

I left it where it was, walked over to the skylight, and peered up. Clouds drifted slowly across night, concealing stars that were rarely visible thanks to the city’s light pollution. It was a necessary part of life in any city, big or small, thanks to the Annwfyn.

A soft, scratchy sound had my gaze snapping to the left edge of the skylight. I couldn’t see anything up on the roof, of course, and for too many minutes the sound was not repeated.

Another couple of scratches, closer to the skylight this time. It sounded for all the world like the scrape of tiny claws against the slate. Not rat claws, but rather bird. It wasn’t likely to be an owl, and most of the other night-loving birds tended to be migratory and not really about in winter.

Which meant we more than likely had a shifter on the roof.

I hesitated, tempted to just jump up there and confront him or her, but common sense got the better of instinct for a change. I walked across to the loft ladder and squatted down.

“Sgott,” I said softly, “have you got anyone on the roof?”

He glanced up sharply. “There’s someone up there?”

I nodded. “A shifter, I believe. It’s not making enough sound to be human.”

He immediately made another couple of calls. Two men were dispatched from the lane and a bird shifter called in. Whether any of them would be in time to catch our intruder was debatable, given he was already on the move.

Footsteps vibrated through the floor below. Sgott’s people appeared, one of them Frankie. Cynwrig wasn’t visible, but I knew he was in the kitchenette. I hoped he was putting the kettle on. Or, better yet, readying a dram or two of whiskey.

I moved back to allow Sgott’s people room to climb in, then walked back to the open skylight. There were no repeats of the scratching on the roof, and I had no way of knowing if our shifter remained up there. Grand old oak beams might support the roof structure, but the slate was a dead zone. If he didn't make a noise, I wouldn’t hear him.

“Ms. Aodhán,” Frankie said. “Would you mind coming over to ID the body?”

I jumped slightly, then nodded and walked over.

“You ready?” she said, when I stopped a few feet away.

I crossed my arms and nodded. She and another woman rolled the body over onto her back.

ItwasVincentia.