in. Another thing . . . most Wiccans believe death magic operates the same as blood magic, that they’re related. Blood magic requires a blade and control. You have to control what happens with the blood to use it. Hard to do that if you’re smashing people with a baseball bat.”
Lily shook her head. “I don’t know. Blood magic doesn’t feel the same to me. I know Wiccans believe it’s tainted—”
“We’re not the only ones.”
“No, and you may be right, though the Catholics disagree. But that’s not my point. The thing is, I don’t personally know that blood magic is tainted. I don’t pick up that sort of thing when I touch magic.”
“Unless it’s death magic.”
“Yeah.” Evil. That’s what she touched when she touched death magic, and she did not understand. Power was power, and magic no more held a moral component than did electricity—or so she’d believed until the first time she’d touched a body slain by death magic. “I’m right about those bodies. I’m sure .”
“Hey, I’m not doubting you. Just having a hard time coming up with an explanation. We may not know much about death magic, but what’s happened there violates the little we do know. Have you talked to your pet sorcerer?”
“Not yet. It’s still short of five a.m. in California. I texted him, but I texted Cynna, too, just to make sure.”
Cynna was Lily’s friend. She was also an FBI agent, Rule’s former lover, and the only woman in the world married to a lupus—Cullen Seabourne, whom she was living with at Nokolai Clanhome while they awaited the birth of their child. Cullen was Rule’s friend, a former lone wolf, a stripper . . . and a sorcerer. Sorcerers were supposed to have died out in the Purge; lone wolves were supposed to go crazy cut off from their clans; lupi were never Gifted—and they never, ever got married.
Cullen didn’t so much break rules as explode them.
“How’s she doing?’ Karonski asked. “Is she getting fat yet?”
“You do know better than to use the word ‘fat’ around a pregnant woman, don’t you? Especially Cynna. She’s armed.”
Karonski chuckled. “Good point. You figure she’ll make sure Seabourne calls you back?”
“Yeah.” Among Cullen’s bad habits was ignoring phone calls if they weren’t immediately interesting. Lily thought the mention of death magic would get his attention, but you never knew with Cullen, especially when he was hip-deep in some complicated arcane research. Which was usually. “Listen, I’ve got one hypothesis that might fit. I’d like to run it by you.”
“Shoot.”
“What if the whole family was involved? Maybe Meacham got them to participate, told them it was some other sort of ritual they were performing. Some spells require multiple practitioners, right? If they’d all been part of it, then when the boy was killed, they’d all be smeared by it.”
He was silent a moment. “Theoretically possible, but you’d have a hell of a time proving it.”
“I’m going to have a hell of a time proving anything. Especially if the Wiccan coven Ruben’s sending can’t confirm that death magic was involved.” A limited number of Wiccan spells were the only form of magically acquired evidence admissible in court, but the coven might not pick up the traces Lily had. Cullen said that trying to get a spell to do what an innate Gift did was like programming a robot to walk. You could do it, but a toddler would outperform the robot.
In other words, there was a good chance the coven wouldn’t be able to find anything.
“Is he having Sherry’s bunch do the test?”
“Probably, and I know they’re good, but it’s been four days. The traces I felt were pretty faint. I . . .”
“What?”
She’d seen something move, or thought she had—at the edge of her vision, a flickering sort of movement. But when she looked in that direction, all she saw was a single swing swaying gently. The other swings weren’t moving.
A pale
Lily shook her head. “I don’t know. Blood magic doesn’t feel the same to me. I know Wiccans believe it’s tainted—”
“We’re not the only ones.”
“No, and you may be right, though the Catholics disagree. But that’s not my point. The thing is, I don’t personally know that blood magic is tainted. I don’t pick up that sort of thing when I touch magic.”
“Unless it’s death magic.”
“Yeah.” Evil. That’s what she touched when she touched death magic, and she did not understand. Power was power, and magic no more held a moral component than did electricity—or so she’d believed until the first time she’d touched a body slain by death magic. “I’m right about those bodies. I’m sure .”
“Hey, I’m not doubting you. Just having a hard time coming up with an explanation. We may not know much about death magic, but what’s happened there violates the little we do know. Have you talked to your pet sorcerer?”
“Not yet. It’s still short of five a.m. in California. I texted him, but I texted Cynna, too, just to make sure.”
Cynna was Lily’s friend. She was also an FBI agent, Rule’s former lover, and the only woman in the world married to a lupus—Cullen Seabourne, whom she was living with at Nokolai Clanhome while they awaited the birth of their child. Cullen was Rule’s friend, a former lone wolf, a stripper . . . and a sorcerer. Sorcerers were supposed to have died out in the Purge; lone wolves were supposed to go crazy cut off from their clans; lupi were never Gifted—and they never, ever got married.
Cullen didn’t so much break rules as explode them.
“How’s she doing?’ Karonski asked. “Is she getting fat yet?”
“You do know better than to use the word ‘fat’ around a pregnant woman, don’t you? Especially Cynna. She’s armed.”
Karonski chuckled. “Good point. You figure she’ll make sure Seabourne calls you back?”
“Yeah.” Among Cullen’s bad habits was ignoring phone calls if they weren’t immediately interesting. Lily thought the mention of death magic would get his attention, but you never knew with Cullen, especially when he was hip-deep in some complicated arcane research. Which was usually. “Listen, I’ve got one hypothesis that might fit. I’d like to run it by you.”
“Shoot.”
“What if the whole family was involved? Maybe Meacham got them to participate, told them it was some other sort of ritual they were performing. Some spells require multiple practitioners, right? If they’d all been part of it, then when the boy was killed, they’d all be smeared by it.”
He was silent a moment. “Theoretically possible, but you’d have a hell of a time proving it.”
“I’m going to have a hell of a time proving anything. Especially if the Wiccan coven Ruben’s sending can’t confirm that death magic was involved.” A limited number of Wiccan spells were the only form of magically acquired evidence admissible in court, but the coven might not pick up the traces Lily had. Cullen said that trying to get a spell to do what an innate Gift did was like programming a robot to walk. You could do it, but a toddler would outperform the robot.
In other words, there was a good chance the coven wouldn’t be able to find anything.
“Is he having Sherry’s bunch do the test?”
“Probably, and I know they’re good, but it’s been four days. The traces I felt were pretty faint. I . . .”
“What?”
She’d seen something move, or thought she had—at the edge of her vision, a flickering sort of movement. But when she looked in that direction, all she saw was a single swing swaying gently. The other swings weren’t moving.
A pale
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