Page 75 of Cold Curses

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I debated whether to tell Black we were en route, but opted not to. Even if he wanted to meet us, which seemed unlikely, this would give us a chance to scope out the location first.

We rolled quietly past the address, found a weedy vacant lot. Theo parked up the street, and we could smell what Black had apparently wanted us to find before we’d trekked back to the lot.

Death.

A lot of death.

“Shit,” Theo said as we looked over the field.

I guessed there’d been a gas station here once, but the concrete pad and poles were all that remained now. In addition to broken glass, trash, and knee-high weeds gone golden with the end of summer. And a dozen demons lying among the refuse.

All, at least from our vantage point, looked dead. And that death looked as if it had been violent: blood, viscera, and dark wounds made by magic. And that was only what we could see from the street. There was still demon magic in the air. Not enough, I hoped, to help monster take over.

I crouched near one demon, found his fingers bruised and obviously broken. There was a gash on his forehead, and at the edges of that gash was a dark line of singed skin. Some kind of burn?

I regretted the need, but leaned forward, sniffed near that wound. The demon magic was stronger there.

I rose. “Yours have burn marks?” I asked Theo, who stood fifteen feet away.

He looked down. “This guy has a fireball-sized hole in his torso. And the edges look burned.” He spoke smoothly, and I was grateful for his experience as a cop and his acclimation to horrors like this. I was also glad Lulu hadn’t taken that kind of shot.

He pointed to another body. “This one’s got burn marks on her shoulder. Made a fucking mess of it. They’re recently dead. They can’t have been here long.”

“No decay,” I agreed.

The woman at my feet was the first female demon I’d seen since Rosantine; I’d been beginning to wonder if they mostly presented male. She wore jeans, a tank top, and sneakers. Nothing fancy, unlike the male closest to her, who wore a suit. A variety of demons, and a variety of styles.

Theo walked back to me, screen in hand. “I’m telling Gwen. And I count thirteen.”

“Someone’s lucky number?”

“I guess. Another territorial dispute?”

“Maybe,” I said. “They’re all dressed differently. Look different. But all were killed about the same time. All were put here about the same time, and there’s no sign of a demon battle in this lot. There are no scorch or magic marks on the ground, and there’s not enough magic in the air to indicate the battle happened here.”

“So, why move them here?” Theo wondered.

I looked around, saw no building on this part of the block likely to have security cameras. “Privacy. There are probably no cameras trained on this lot.”

Theo was quiet for a beat. “How deep is Black in this? I mean, he led us here.”

“This is demon magic,” I said. “He’s not a demon.”

While I was sure about that, it occurred to me for the first time that I hadn’t really seen Black use magic. I’d sensed it around him, but I hadn’t seen him toss a fireball or kindle a spell. Certainly nothing with this kind of power.

“Maybe a demon is his client,” Theo said. “The one who cut him.”

“Yeah, that thought occurred to me. But if so, why would he send us here? Doesn’t that implicate his boss?”

“Hmm,” Theo said. “Maybe there’s a third major player. Someone we don’t even know about yet.”

“No,” I said sternly. “Don’t even joke about that. You’ll jinx us.”

“We need to talk to Black,” Theo said. “I doubt he just stumbled across this empty lot full of bodies. Either someone told him about it, or he saw the dump happen. Either way, he knows who was involved.”

I checked my screen again, found no response to my earlier message, and sent another one. As Theo moved to another body, I crouched down, looked over the demon at my feet. He had very dark skin and a torso wound, the edges crisped from the flash of magic.