Page 6

CHAPTER 6

FIONA

T he medical examiner's office looked exactly like you'd expect. It was sterile, cold, and about as welcoming as my mother-in-law on a bad day. Which, given that she's a socialite with a perpetual stick up her ass, was saying something. The gray concrete building loomed against the winter sky like a tombstone. I supposed that was fitting given what went on inside. We'd left the wine cellars after finding more questions than answers. Now here we were. Trying to piece together this mess before more bodies dropped.

The wind carried the scent of dying leaves and something that made my Fae senses tingle with warning. Magic lingered in the air. It was faint but unmistakable. Like the metallic taste before a storm. My power responded to the residual energy and stirred restlessly under my skin.

"I still think we should have tried to follow those assholes," Violet muttered as we approached the entrance. "We might have been able to lock onto their energy signature. This feels like a waste of time when we could be tracking them down and kicking their asses. "

The sentiment was pure Violet. She was all action with minimal planning. Usually, I'd be right there with her, ready to crash through whatever stood in our way. But something about those bodies in the wine cellar had set off every warning bell I had. And I had a lot of them, courtesy of solving countless supernatural cases.

"Knowledge is power," I reminded her, channeling my inner Grams. My grandmother had drilled that into my head often enough. Usually, after I'd done something monumentally stupid, and called her to complain. "Besides, we need to know what we're dealing with before we go charging into a trap. They'll be expecting us this time. We won't scare them off as easily."

"Since when are you the voice of reason?" Aislinn asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Since we found ritualistic murder victims with creepy runes carved into them. I may be reckless, but I'm not stupid. At least not most days," I smirked at her, though the expression felt forced. The weight of what we'd encountered in those wine cellars still sat heavy in my gut. The bodies had been bad enough, but the magic lingering around them had been worse.

Gadross was waiting for us in the lobby. He looked decidedly out of place and completely unbothered by that fact. The dwarf's perfectly tailored charcoal suit couldn't quite disguise his stocky frame. It probably cost more than my monthly mortgage. His meticulously groomed beard – now streaked with more silver than auburn – caught more than a few curious glances from passing staff. Not that he seemed to notice or care.

He was rolling something between his fingers. It was a small copper disk that seemed to shift and shimmer in the fluorescent lighting. Its surface was etched with spiraling patterns. Power emanated from it in subtle waves. They were barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for. Which, unfortunately for my curiosity, I did.

"You're late," he said by way of greeting. His dark eyes held that keen intelligence that always made me wonder just how much he really knew about any given situation. In my experience, the answer was usually ‘way more than he was telling us’.

"Traffic was hell," I replied, which wasn't entirely a lie. There had been traffic. "We had to cleanse the cellar so the cult can’t use it again.”

"Mhmm," he hummed, clearly not buying it. "I've already laid the groundwork with the staff. Amazing what a little Third Age artificing can do. The receptionist thinks we're from the NHS, investigating a possible new strain of influenza. The security guard believes we're with MI5's special taskforce. The custodian is convinced we're making a documentary for the BBC about modern mortuary practices."

The receptionist barely glanced up as we passed. Her eyes glazed over like she'd had one too many tequila shots at happy hour. At least I knew why. Gadross's relic was working its magic and spreading through the building like ink in water.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" he said, catching my scrutiny of the disk. "The copper holds the magical resonance better than silver would. The artificers who created this understood that copper's natural conductivity could be enhanced through specific runes. Quite brilliant, really. They were doing things with metal harmonics that we're only beginning to understand now."

My fingers twitched with the urge to snatch the disk and examine it more closely. The way it pulsed with each rotation was fascinating. The subtle variations in its energy signature were like catnip for my inner magic nerd .

Gadross must have caught my expression because he added, "And no, you can't examine it right now. We have work to do. Though I suppose I could be persuaded to give you a proper lesson sometime. Provided you stop trying to reverse-engineer every artifact you come across."

I felt my cheeks warm. "It’s not every relic. I’ve given all of the dangerous ones to the proper authorities. Improving on what came before is part of being a witch. Besides, you can’t blame a girl for being curious.”

He shook his head at me as we walked down the too-bright corridor. I kept stealing glances at how the relic pulsed with each rotation of Gadross's fingers. The magic it emanated was subtle but effective. Employees milled around without giving us a second look. My magical senses picked up how it bent perception around us like a silk veil and made people's eyes slide right past. It was far more elegant than any glamour I could have managed. My magic tended to be about as subtle as a brick to the face.

"We couldn’t do our jobs without the Third Age. It doesn’t injure the minds in the process," Gadross explained as we walked. "It doesn't force the mind to accept our presence. That would scar and leave traces. It would also cause resistance. Instead, it suggests that we're simply not interesting enough to notice. Like background noise in a crowded room. The human mind is remarkably good at ignoring things it doesn't want to deal with."

"How does it maintain the effect across multiple targets?" I asked. "The power requirements alone should be massive. And the interference patterns between different consciousness streams?—"

"Focus, Fiona," Aislinn murmured at the same time I caught her stealing curious glances at the disk.

"I am focused," I protested. "I'm focusing on potentially useful magical theory. If we could create something similar, it could help us."

"That would come in handy, but face it. You're focusing on shiny magic things instead of dead bodies," Violet pointed out with a wrinkled nose. "And I can't blame you."

We reached the medical examiner's office. Dr. Harrison was exactly what you'd picture when you thought of a medical examiner. He was in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and reading glasses perched on his nose. He had the kind of expression that said he'd seen it all. Or thought he had, anyway.

His office was cluttered with medical texts and odes to his greatness on his walls. He sure had a lot of degrees and certificates. I grimaced when I caught sight of a half-empty cup of coffee that sat forgotten on a stack of files. I wondered how long it had sat there. It looked like at least three types of mold were growing inside it.

Gadross stepped forward. The copper disk was now dancing across his knuckles like a coin trick. The motion should have looked absurd coming from someone of his stature. Somehow, he made it seem elegant. Like everything else about him, it was probably the result of centuries of practice and an ungodly amount of patience that I definitely didn't possess.

"Dr. Harrison," he said smoothly, "thank you for making time for us. Are you ready to show us the unusual aspects of these cases?"

The doctor's eyes fixed on the spinning disk. I watched in fascination as Gadross's relic worked its magic. The artifact's influence was different from my persuasion spells. Where my magic was like pushing against a wall, this was more like finding a door and simply turning the handle. My magic stirred in response. I had to concentrate to keep it from reaching out to investigate the relic's workings. The last thing we needed was my power deciding to play ‘poke the ancient artifact’ while we were trying to maintain a cover story.

"Yes, of course," Harrison replied as he stood woodenly and led us into the cold storage room.

The sharp smell of disinfectant couldn't quite mask the underlying scent of death. He pulled open three drawers. Each slab contained a sheet-covered form. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead and cast harsh shadows across the metal surfaces. It made everything look slightly surreal.

My attention kept dividing between the horrific evidence before us and the way Gadross manipulated the relic with practiced ease. Each time the doctor's focus seemed to waver, a simple twist of the disk brought him back to the task at hand. I found myself analyzing the subtle variations in the artifact's energy. I was astonished by how it adapted. It wove its suggestions into the natural flow of thought which would take too much of my focus to pull off.

"These marks here," Harrison said after he pulled back the first sheet, "are unlike anything I've seen in twenty years at hospital." He gestured to what looked like claw marks to mundane eyes but looked like mangled shade runes to us. They formed precise patterns across the victim's torso, each line was precisely placed. Not to mention how the magic residue around them made my skin crawl. "They’re far too regular to be animal attacks, yet too irregular to be man-made weapons."

The body belonged to a young man, probably in his early thirties. He had an athletic build. He wasn’t the kind of person you'd expect to find on a morgue slab. The runes carved into his flesh told a story of careful preparation and meticulous execution. This wasn't a crime of passion or opportunity. It was methodical, planned, and precise.

"And the tissue damage?" Gadross prompted. The disk caught the light as he adjusted its spin. A new pattern emerged on its surface.

"That's the truly peculiar bit," Harrison continued. His professional curiosity temporarily overwhelmed even the relic's subtle influence. "The tissue shows signs of being frozen from the inside out. Yet there are also burn marks, as if the victims were simultaneously freezing and burning. Rather goes against every principle of forensic science I know."

I exchanged glances with Violet and Aislinn. It was shade magic. It corrupted energy and consumed both heat and life force. The magical residue around the wounds glowed like bruises to our enhanced sight. It told a story of power torn forcibly from unwilling vessels.

"The crystallization patterns in the tissue are unlike anything in the literature," Harrison continued, as he pulled out several slides. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, I could see the telltale shimmer of crystallized magic. It was pure power that had been forcibly extracted and preserved. The process would have been excruciating. "And then there’s the cellular damage. It's as if something was systematically breaking down the very structure of the tissue."

"We’ve had about three similar cases over the last year," Harrison explained. The relic regained control. "Each post-mortem showed comparable anomalies. One of the bodies vanished from the mortuary before we could complete our PM reports." He pursed his lips, adjusting his glasses. "It was the most peculiar thing, actually. They all presented with similar markings. Rather like ritual brands. Could have sworn they moved a couple of times, though I expect that was just working too many nights on call."

Gadross's expression tightened almost imperceptibly. I knew that look. I thought it was significant as well. His fingers stilled momentarily on the copper disk. A second later, I felt a subtle shift in its energy pattern. "The missing body," he said carefully. "When exactly did it disappear?"

Harrison's brow furrowed as the relic's influence encouraged him to answer. "It must have been about six months ago. It just vanished between shifts. The security cameras showed nothing but static for about three minutes. When the feed cleared, the body was gone." He shook his head.

That tracked with what we'd seen at the accident scene. The first body had disappeared without a trace. It had left nothing but residual magic and unanswered questions. Were they the bodies on the altar at the cellars?

The doctor moved to the final body, pulling back the sheet with practiced efficiency. "This one's particularly interesting. This is the woman found under the car today. Her DNA showed some unusual markers. They are similar to the case from six months ago. Only hers are more complex."

"How so?" I asked, though I had a feeling I knew what he was about to say. The magical signature around this body was different. There were intricate layers to her magic. It made me think someone had taken two different types of power and woven them together into something new.

"Well, it's as if her cells were caught between two different states of being. The proteins are unlike anything I've ever seen. And there are compounds that, quite frankly, shouldn't exist according to any biology textbook I've ever read." He pulled out another slide and held it up to the light. "See these structures here? They're not quite organic. It's as if the cellular matrix was trying to exist in two states simultaneously."

It hit me then. The woman was a hybrid. Like how I was both witch and Fae. The magical signature around her wounds was more complex than the others. It spoke of power that had been carefully extracted and contained. There was something that made my magical senses itch like a mosquito bite you can't quite reach.

I leaned closer and studied the patterns carved into her skin. The runes were similar to those on the other victims. Hers were more refined and precise. Had they perfected their technique?

"These markings," Gadross whispered so no one else could hear. "They follow the major energy meridians perfectly. Someone knew exactly what they were doing." He traced a pattern in the air above the body. "See how they flow? Each sequence builds on the last, creating a kind of resonance."

"Like they're trying to harmonize different types of power," Aislinn whispered. "The runes are modifying the energy somehow."

Violet's jaw tightened. "That's why they're targeting hybrids. We're natural bridges between different types of magic. Our power already knows how to exist in multiple states."

I felt sick. Being a hybrid myself, the implications hit a little too close to home. Someone was specifically hunting people like me. They were using our unique magical nature against us. And they were doing it right in an area that wasn't exactly known for its supernatural population. Hambledon wasn’t as popular for magical people as Cottlehill Wilds.

As Harrison finished his explanation, Gadross made a final pass with the disk. "You'll file these as resulting from accidents. There’s nothing unusual to note. Just another sad day in the morgue."

"Yes, quite right," Harrison nodded dreamily. "Accidental death. Nothing unusual at all. Though it is rather dreadful. They were all so young."

Once we were safely in the corridor, Gadross pocketed the relic before I could get a better look at it. His expression was troubled as he stroked his beard. "The energy signatures are stronger than they should be," he said quietly so only our small group could hear. "These victims are holding more power than should be possible. Why here, when Cottlehill Wilds has a far larger supernatural population to choose from?" He shook his head. "There has to be a reason. Something about this location is significant."

"Could it be the ley lines?" I suggested as my mind raced through possibilities. "This area does have some weird energy patterns." And by weird, I meant the magical equivalent of a drunk spider trying to weave a web while high on caffeine.

"No," Gadross said firmly. "The ley lines here are actually quite weak compared to other areas. Cottlehill Wilds sits at a major convergence point. If they were just after raw power, that would be the logical choice. There has to be something else."

"The wine cellars," Aislinn said suddenly, her eyes widening. "They were modified using Fae magic. What if this whole area has similar modifications? Ancient workings we can't see?"

Gadross's eyes sharpened. "Now that's an interesting thought. The Hambledon archives might have answers. There are records there of similar wounds from the Second Age. And more importantly, documents about why certain locations were chosen for ritual work."

"The Second Age?" Violet asked as her eyebrows shot up. "That's what, three thousand years ago?"

"Three thousand, four hundred and twelve years, to be precise," Gadross corrected. "There was a period of significant magical experimentation then. Particularly in combining different types of power. Most of the records were lost in the Great Burning. Hambledon's archives survived."

"And you're just mentioning this now because...?" I let the question hang in the air.

His expression grew grave. "Because I had no idea what we were dealing with until I saw these bodies. The rune patterns, the way they're preparing the vessels... it's too similar to be coincidence." He glanced back at the morgue doors. "And I think it would be a good idea to visit the archives before more bodies turn up."

"Right then," I said, fishing my car keys from my pocket. "To Hambledon. Though I still want to know how that relic of yours works."

We made our way out of the building. The winter wind whipped around us with renewed vigor. The sky had darkened while we were inside. Heavy clouds gathered overhead, and a few fat raindrops splattered against the pavement. It carried the metallic scent of an approaching storm.

"Priorities, Fi," Violet muttered, though I caught her eyeing the disk with curiosity.

"Indeed," Gadross agreed. "The archives first. Artifact lectures later."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I agreed with a wave of my hand. “We’ll handle it like we have countless other sensitive cases.” And pray no one else fell victim before we figured it all out.