Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)(64)

“I’m thinking out loud, but sure, ‘we’ can include you.” I grabbed my purse and dug out the page of runes. “We’ve only had the end results of the witch’s spel s thus far. First there were the feet fil ed with dark magic. Then the constructs that left only a spel ed disk behind. We knew the two were created by the same person or group because the magic felt the same, but we haven’t been able to get anywhere with the remains of the spel s. But this rune”—I pointed to the fourth rune down on the page—“was cut into the dirt around that tear. Whoever ripped that tear has to be responsible for the other two as wel , but now we have a crime scene. There has to be something at that site that wil lead back to the caster.” And I wasn’t there. I glanced at the TV but a commercial was currently playing. “Roy, can you go check out the scene? Let me know what’s going on?”

“With that reaper there? No way.” He fanned his hands out away from his body to accent his no. “Being a ghost might not be the best gig in the world, but I have no idea what happens after the reapers nab you. The devil you know and al that.”

“Right, the soul col ector,” I said, pacing again without real y hearing the rest of what Roy said. “Why is he there?

Does he have a part in this? The col ectors take that . . .

soul mist . . . that appears when the constructs are disbelieved. Does he provide that?” But why would he?

Why would a col ector be involved at al ? “He might just be Why would a col ector be involved at al ? “He might just be passing through.”

I dug my phone out of my purse. I needed to update Falin on the runes. He’d need to make sure the area was treated as a crime scene—especial y if Bel had claimed ownership and had his people tromping through the place. I woke the phone but then hesitated as I pul ed up the address book. I didn’t actual y have Falin’s phone number.

My phone had been destroyed by the time we’d started working together on the Coleman case, and I hadn’t replaced it until after Falin had disappeared. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen him use a phone since he reappeared, so I wasn’t even sure he had one on him. Damn.

I shook my head and dropped the phone back in my purse. “I have to go to the scene.”

But Falin was right—I did not want to draw Faerie’s attention. If there was some other planeweaver out there ripping holes in reality, the courts could drag him or her away. I needed to stay far from the tears. And even if I wanted to go, how would I get to the scene? It was dark, so I couldn’t drive. Besides, Falin had my car.

But what about the case? And Hol y? And Caleb—who wouldn’t be protected by anything but his wards tonight.

Wards that this morning’s adventure proved were easy enough for the spel to circumvent.

I chewed my lip and walked over to the TV again. They were replaying the same clip I’d already seen twice. I didn’t need to see the tear’s discovery again. I needed to see what was happening at the scene right now. One of Lusa’s

“Breaking News” bul etins would be great. Of course, I guess she’d already done that.

The anchorman rol ed the film where the col ector crossed in front of the tear, his features out of focus. What was he doing there?

“Okay, that’s it. I’m going to the scene.” There had to be a crowd by now. I would just try to blend in.

Picking up my phone, I hit the second number on my Picking up my phone, I hit the second number on my speed dial and then turned the speaker on while it rang. As I waited, I twisted my shoulder-length curls up on top of my head, then secured—and covered—them with a cap that read WITCHITUDE across the front. As far as disguises went, it was weak, but much more and I’d look like I was trying to hide. I’d just tucked the last of my escaped curls under the cap when a groggy-sounding female voice answered the phone.

“Alex? You woke me at four this morning. I’m trying to catch up those hours, plus I had a day ful of dead bodies with no cause of death and I . . .” Tamara said, and then her bed squeaked as if she’d sprung to her feet. “Wait. Did something happen? Is Hol y—?”

“She was fine when I talked to her last. She’s staying at the hospital for observation tonight. But something did happen, and I need a favor, and, uh, a ride.”

“Do we know which side of the bridge the tear is located on?” Tamara asked as we headed south toward Lenore Street.

I shook my head. The Lenore Street Bridge wasn’t a high-traffic pass. The Sionan River separated the skyscrapers and booming metropolis of downtown Nekros City from the Magic Quarter and the Witches Glen, but the Lenore Street Bridge was in the southern part of the city.

On the western side of the Sionan—the Quarter side—

Lenore Street was practical y a country road, since the suburban sprawl hadn’t yet spread that far south. On the eastern side—the city side—Lenore Street was a fairly minor road in the warehouse district. It certainly wasn’t a street I traveled often.

“We’l look for the crowd.” And there was bound to be one. Witch Watch had been replaying Lusa’s footage for the last hour, so aside from the media frenzy guaranteed to the last hour, so aside from the media frenzy guaranteed to flock to the site, gawkers had probably gathered by now.

There were always gawkers. Several law enforcement agencies would descend on the new tear as wel , even if they hadn’t realized the site was a crime scene—and though I couldn’t yet prove a crime had taken place there, I had no doubt that Tamara or I would pick up the magical signature from the witch responsible for the recent murders.