I knew it was a dismissal, but no one deserved to have that many files dumped on them. “Have you been to Walking Rug?”

  He twitched as if coming back to himself. “What?”

  “The bar. Walking Rug? Run by a few werebears?” I took pity on him. “Nash, I’m offering to buy you a drink. Come out, feel alive.” The irony of a necromancer asking someone to feel alive wasn’t lost on me.

  “Umm.” He closed and then opened his mouth.

  “You have my number. Give me a call if you want to take me up on the offer.”

  Back at work, and at the small bench that was my section of the lab space, I carefully unpacked the blood. It wouldn’t be stable at room temperature very long, but I had all the components of this spell at hand. As long as nothing went wrong, it would only take a few minutes.

  Unlike the rest of the lab, which was set up for chemistry and the like, this area had been refitted for me. Mostly that meant stocking the cabinets under this workbench with all the things a witch would need.

  In a matter of moments, I’d lined up two charm bases, a thin pine disk with a tiny clear crystal stuck in the center, a few bottles of herbs, metal rune stamps, and a hammer.

  I carefully hammered the runes around the edge of the disk before mixing herbs together and heaping them in a pile in the center of the charm directly on top of the small crystal. Cupping my hands around it, I fed it my magic and stabilized the spell until it settled into the charm. When I took my hands away, a smoothly domed stone had replaced the crystal and pile of herbs. The second charm went as quickly as the first.

  With the generic part of the spell complete, I retrieved the evidence bags. It only took a moment to make sure the correct blood sample was sitting next to the correctly labeled charm. I carefully pipetted a single drop of blood onto each one.

  The charms flared, and then a tiny green dot settled at the edge of the stone. At the moment, both charms were indicating the same direction, but Nashville was hardly a small town. They could be miles apart, and right now any movement toward that area was good enough.

  I tucked each charm into its bag and cleaned up. The blood went into the freezer. When everything was ready, I took the bagged charms down to my desk and sent both Mitchell and Smith a note about the tracking charms. While I waited for a response, I microwaved a cup of noodles and ate a late lunch. If one could call heavily salted noodles from a cup lunch.

  My phone rang as I slurped down the last forkful of noodles. It rang twice more before I could get to it. “Agent Pine.”

  “I’ll meet you at your car in five. Let’s find them.” Mitchell hung up.

  A little more warning would’ve been nice. Even so, I managed to fit in a trip to the bathroom on my way outside. She was leaning against my department vehicle, and I walked the rest of the way over holding up the bags with the charms.

  A big grin spread across her face. “I love having a witch in the department. Come on.”

  I settled into the driver’s seat. “Werewolf or fey?”

  “Werewolf?”

  I stashed the charm attuned to the fey in the glove box and handed her the one for the werewolf. “You know how these work?”

  “I’ve used them before.” She eyed it as I headed toward the exit. “North and a bit east.”

  I flipped on a turn signal as we waited to leave.

  “Thomas’s family is going to come in and give DNA samples. If we don’t catch the missing werewolf tonight, we’ll know who we’re dealing with in a day or two.” Her hands tightened on the charm.

  We both knew that might be too late, both to save the werewolf and to save anyone who might cross its path. “I hope we catch it today.”

  “Me too.”

  For the next twenty minutes, the only conversation revolved around directions. The tracking charm guided us out of Nashville and toward Hendersonville. When we left the interstate, things got more interesting. The dot on the charm was larger, but the roads didn’t have much of a pattern. We’d turn onto a street and end up going the wrong way. Even with a map, it wasn’t easy to figure out where the charm thought we should go and plot a course there.

  After more than an hour, and no few rude words said by both of us, we stopped at a house only a few hundred feet from Cumberland River. The green covered half the tracking charm, but from the street, nothing stood out about the brick, single-story ranch. The curtains were drawn on the windows, and the attached garage made it impossible to tell if someone was home.

  I don’t know what I’d hoped for, but blood or an open car door or some graffiti proclaiming a crazy werewolf was in residence would’ve been nice. I put the car in park.

  Mitchell got out of the car. “Time to knock on some doors.”

  As I followed her to the door, I transferred the charm to my left hand and drew my wand. If the werewolf came through the door, I wanted to have a chance of containing the situation.

  Mitchell pushed the doorbell.

  My hand tightened around my wand.

  Not so much as a creak of wood settling came from the house.

  Mitchell poked the doorbell again and rapped on the door.

  Seconds passed, and I looked down and exhaled, trying to relax. The doormat’s pink and blue flowers would’ve been cheerful, but a dark stain at the top of the mat covered part of the flowers.

  The breeze died down, and I caught a stale metallic note. Ignoring Mitchell’s pounding, I knelt down. A thin sheet of red coated the bottom of the door and had flowed into the doormat. I wasn’t a blood expert, but this dark and dull stain was drying blood.

  “Mitchell, we need to try a different door.” This one was evidence, and we’d needed every shred we could get.

  She looked down and swore.

  An odor of decay reached my nose. My stomach clenched. If we were about to find a mutilated body, let it be fresh. Death wasn’t a smell that improved with a few days’ time.

  Chapter Eleven

  At the back door, I planted my feet on each side of a dark smudge that could have been a blood stain on the concrete and nodded.

  Mitchell drew her gun.

  My fingers tightened on my wand. The doorknob turned under my hand. I shoved it open so hard it hit the wall.

  The small kitchen was empty, but the lights were on there and in the hall. Bloody footprints led from the rest of the house to this door.

  I kept moving, trying to avoid the blood. An opening led to an empty dining room, the table piled with medical supplies.

  Mitchell branched off, going through the dining room to the adjoining space. The hall opened up, the back of a couch marking the living room. Mitchell kept moving through the living room, but I had my eye on the front door.

  Sprawled on the ground was a very dead fey.

  Next time I saw Mom, I needed to thank her for all the hunting trips as a child. I’d seen and smelled worse, so I knew I wouldn’t lose my lunch on the body. Bloated, three-days-dead fey was less than delightful.

  Mitchell went past me toward the bedrooms.

  Even though I needed to follow her, there was one thing I had to do first. Letting down the shield that kept me from seeing magic all the time, I gave the body another look. No active spells or blood magic, but there was some residue. I’d have to look at it more closely after we finished clearing the house.

  The blood trail continued down the hall to the bathroom. Past that, the carpet was decorated in occasional red smudges, likely more blood. The two bedrooms were clear, as was the master bath. From there, we started poking into all the nooks and crannies they always skipped on TV shows. They were clear of people, which left us with one dead fey and a lot of questions.

  Mitchell called it in.

  I called Nash’s office.

  “Is there a problem with the samples?” he said when he answered the phone.

  “Maybe. I’m looking at a dead fey and a lot of blood. I was trying to track the werewolf, but he isn’t here.” When I had a moment, I’d check the spells, but I was sure I hadn’t crossed the samples. “The official call should be coming in soon.”

  “I verified those samples myself.” Nash sounded tired.

  “And I’ll check my work, but right now I have a dead fey.”

  “I’ll be ready to hit the road when the official call comes in.” He sighed. “Any chance I’ll have evidence worth looking at?”

  “There’s a chance of good news. By the time you’re here, I’ll know more.”

  In the background, a phone rang. “I remain ever hopeful.” With that, he hung up.

  Since Mitchell was still on the phone, I went back to examine the body. There had been spells on it, but all that remained now were tiny motes of power. Fewer than I’d expected, given the spells at the machine shop, but time could do that. The lack of blood magic was refreshing. Either it hadn’t contaminated the fey as thoroughly, or time had worked its own kind of magic.

  Blood magic had some odd quirks. Enough of it soaking into one place could sink into a building or land and contaminate everyone who came into contact with it, trying to get its hooks in them and force them to do its bidding. Or it could go the other way. Small amounts of blood magic weren’t stable. With some time, those faded into nothing. They didn’t even leave behind harmful residue.

  The good news was I could give Nash a body that didn’t go through a purification ritual. The bad news was I wasn’t any closer to piecing together the spell fragments I’d found at the machine shop.

  As I reabsorbed the probe, cold power unfurled inside me, looking for a way out. Nope, not going to raise the dead in front of an agent and get myself killed. I clamped down on the necromancy and walked away from the body, pulling my magic to the forefront. With Mitchell still on the phone, this was a perfect time to examine the rest of the house.

  With each step down the hall, the necromancy settled back where it belonged. I went through the house, this time looking for magic rather than people and keeping well away from the body. My necromancy stayed where it should, for which I was grateful.

  A box under the master bed had contained something magical, but the items were gone, and the remains weren’t anything identifiable other than fading remnants of energy.

  “Pine?”

  “Coming.”

  Back in the living room, Mitchell pinned me with a stare. “Do we need to be purified?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Mitchell’s shoulders relaxed. “How did we go hunting for a werewolf and end up finding a fey?”

  That was a darn good question. “I don’t know.”

  Mitchell closed her eyes, and her lips moved like she was counting to ten. “Story of this case.”

  “While you were on the phone, I looked through the house and examined the body. I didn’t find any magic of note, unless a knife that never needs sharpening counts.” But who didn’t have one of those? I put that spell on all my knives. “If you don’t need me in here, I’d like to get the other charm from the car and figure out why werewolf hunting turned into fey hunting.”

  “Go for it.” She flapped a hand at me. “I have more calls to make, plus tape and such to set up.” Her phone rang.

  I headed back to the car. For the first time, I didn’t have to clean up a bunch of spells and destroy evidence in the process. Hopefully, this would be a break in the case.

  I propped the car door open, letting a bit of a breeze come in. Now the odors from the body seemed lodged in my nose.

  Looking out the window as I retrieved the charm from the glove box, I felt bad for the neighborhood. Right now, it was quiet, with tidy houses and slightly overgrown yards. In a few minutes, this place would be swarming with police, and the illusion of the neighborhood where nothing bad happened would be broken.

  The best thing I could do for them was help catch the werewolf, so I turned my attention to the charms. The first thing I checked were the identifiers on the bags. The one I’d taken inside was clearly labeled werewolf, and the one that had been in the car said fey. Both location indicators were pointing to this house. If nothing else, I was sure I hadn’t used the same blood for both of them. I probed the spells, but all they could tell me was how they’d been constructed. Nothing was wrong there.

  Leaving the car, I walked around the house with both charms. Their indicators never changed. They were both sure that what they tracked was inside the house.

  Maybe the werewolf was here, or the werewolf had bled here. Or maybe under the stress of twelve boxes of files to review, Nash had messed up. Either way, the connection was strong enough to pull the charm to this house.

  I stowed both charms in the glove compartment, told Mitchell my findings, and started setting up the perimeter. Until everyone else got here, it was up to Mitchell and I to maintain the scene.

  Before long, the place was swarming with officers. Nash arrived with an assistant, and he managed to look even more haggard than he had before. I let him know what I’d found and got out of his way. Out of everyone’s way. The crime scene techs didn’t need me there.

  The sun had settled low in the sky when Mitchell came over. The bags under her eyes were darker than they’d been this morning, and she moved as if everything took a little more effort. After propping a hip against the car, she sighed. “You should head back. I’ll get a ride with someone else when I can leave.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yup. I have to be here, but you don’t. Write up your report and get a good night’s rest.” She watched Nash and his assistant guide the gurney across the grass.

  “Everything has been searched?” Those charms should be working, so where was the werewolf? The house wasn’t that large, and the slab-on-grade construction didn’t leave a crawl space or basement.

  “Everything. Even up in the attic.” Mitchell patted my shoulder. “You’ll need to figure out a reason the charm led us here if we go to court, and for the bureau’s integrity, but it’s still good work. We didn’t have any other leads on the fey.”

  “I need to figure it out for my own peace of mind.” I pushed away from the car. “If you find anything that needs me—”

  “Don’t hesitate to call.” She raised an eyebrow. “Have I yet?”

  Rolling my eyes, I settled into the driver’s seat. Mitchell patted the car, and I was away.

  Back at the office, I headed to the lab. It only took a few minutes and species identification strips to determine the blood in each test tube matched what species indicated on the label. So much for clarity on that problem. Frustrated, I returned the blood samples to the fridge before going to my desk for yet more paperwork. The report, which hadn’t taken too long, was filled and I was packing up when the phone rang. “Agent Pine.”

  “It’s Nash.” He hesitated. “I looked at the blood samples again. They should’ve been fine. I don’t know why the werewolf sample would lead to that house.”

  That wasn’t the answer I’d hoped for, especially not after dropping the blood on strips to identify species. They’d both matched their test tubes. “It should’ve linked to the things it connected with most strongly, like the rest of the body that produced it.”

  “The additional labs should be back in the morning, along with some of the blood work on the fey. I’ll see if I can find anything.”

  “I’ll do a little research tonight. See if I missed a connection type.” That and some quality time with the grimoire would be as much fun as I could stand this evening.

  “About that,” Nash said slowly. “Could I take you up on that drink?”

  Not that I was eager to dive back into the world of necromancy, but I needed to learn so I wouldn’t raise someone again. “Tonight?”

  “I assumed that was the original offer.”

  “And you didn’t take me up on it.” I winced. That hadn’t come out right. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting you to call today. What time?”

  “Seven?”

  “I’ll see you then.” I hung up and hoped agreeing had been the right choice. Last time I’d seen him, Nash had looked like he needed a bed more than a beer.

  After a quick shower and dinner, I enjoyed the rumble of Fabian’s engine on the way to the pub. Walking Rug didn’t occupy what most people considered prime real estate. Which it more than made up for in its customer’s views by the ample parking and the classic rock that was low enough to allow conversation but loud enough to fill the silence. Unlike most bars, they didn’t crank the music when the crowd made some noise. That tradition had started with the owners, a family of werebears, but their patrons, mostly shifters and other species with sensitive ears, had rewarded them by coming back for over fifty years.

  The bouncer, sporting a shirt striped like a beach ball, let me in with a smile.

  Thursday wasn’t their busiest day, since ladies’ night was more of a college thing, so I walked right up to a high top and sat down. At three to seven, the friendly waiter deposited a lemon drop mocktail and a water to my table.

  Exactly two minutes later, Nash walked through the door in cowboy boots and jeans that could’ve been painted on. The collared shirt with rolled-up sleeves and the top two buttons undone showed the smooth lines of his chest. His silver hair fell to the middle of his back with only two slender braids holding it away from his face. He spotted me, grinned, and adjusted his course.

  I gulped half my lemon drop, wishing it had some alcohol. I’d thought my jeans, boots, and a cute shirt were fine for meeting a coworker for some friendly complaining about the job. We’d clearly had different expectations tonight, and I didn’t want there to be any confusion. Of course, how was I going to explain what I’d meant when I made the offer without sounding like an idiot?

  “Close your mouth, Pine.” Nash slid into the seat opposite me. “I own something other than slacks.”

  “My mouth wasn’t open.”

  “If you say so.” He signaled the waiter and ordered nachos and a soda.

  Maybe my mouth had been open, but the coveralls I’d first seen him in hadn’t exactly been flattering. While the waiter was there, I ordered fries. When the waiter left, I didn’t know what to say.