“You think it’s possible the killer was using an invisibility charm?” I asked.
John nodded. “We scanned the room once we arrived, but personal charms don’t leave a trace once the witch has left the premises.”
The other option was glamour. That didn’t even need to be said. So it would come down to what the kids’ shades said to determine if the FIB or NCPD would be taking lead here.
“Ready?” Falin asked, his hand moving to the small of my back. The touch surprised me. I tried to believe it was just a friendly urge to get this over with, but the heat that lifted in my cheeks betrayed me. I hurried forward, almost stepping on John’s heels as I followed him into the room.
The curtain covering the wall-length window in the far corner of the room had been drawn aside, letting in the late-morning light. All the lamps were on and a few extra work lights had been brought to the scene, but despite the fact there was adequate light in the room, my eyes refused to make sense of what I was seeing. At least when trying to take in the room as a whole. I frowned, trying to focus on one piece of the room at a time.
There, closest to the door, was an armchair toppled over, stuffing exploding from it in long vertical slits. Beyond that was a desk, the wood scarred by a gash that nearly bisected it. My eyes moved farther over the wall, where it looked like someone had pressed their hands in red paint before running them over the otherwise neutral wallpaper. I knew it wasn’t actually paint, but I didn’t stop to dwell on it, instead letting my gaze move on to the bed, only slightly disheveled and still covered with a teal comforter. A figure knelt at the end of the bed, leaning against it heavily. It was a male, as soon as I saw him my grave magic told me that much. Young, maybe eighteen. Blood had dried in a dark stain where it soaked the carpet around his legs, almost blending in with his black tuxedo slacks. At first I couldn’t tell if he still wore a shirt or not, there was too much blood, but I decided he didn’t and the flayed material hanging from his back was flesh.
I tore my gaze away, forcing myself to keep inspecting the room when what I really wanted to do was squeeze my eyes shut and back into the hallway. But I had to look. I could already feel the second body, the grave essence pulling at me.
The girl was a few feet from the boy, between the baseboard of the bed and the large-screen television. She wore only a slip that must have been tan or white when she put it on the night before. It was a dark brownish-red now. Lacerations covered her arms, her torso, even her face. Congealed blood matted her blond hair and had dried in flaking rivulets on her arms and bare legs.
I moved on. The way the girl had been facing, I couldn’t tell if she’d been running toward the door or the bathroom when she’d been . . . stabbed? That made the most sense, but I’d know for sure soon. Sprays of blood trailed across the TV screen, the walls, even the ceiling sported blood. The bathroom door hung open, but I couldn’t reach it without stepping over the couple. Whatever evidence might or might not be in that room wasn’t my concern—I was here only to raise the shades—so I didn’t bother trying to navigate to the bathroom. The carnage ended before it reached the back of the room anyway. From my vantage point just inside the main door, I could see an emerald green dress hanging in the open closet. She must have undressed before whatever happened began. I didn’t know anything about the girl, not yet at least, but I was guessing she and her boyfriend hadn’t been receiving visitors while she was wearing only a slip.
After taking in as much of the room as I could stomach, I averted my eyes. I’d missed details—I knew that—but I’d seen enough, more than I wanted, and for what they needed, only the bodies were important. Unfortunately, I’d have to move the couple to draw my circle. With their positions and relation to the furniture, there was no other way.
Unless I work without a circle.
Just the idea made my skin crawl. It was dangerous, but we were actually fairly far away from any cemeteries and the only two bodies I felt in the immediate area were the couple. Of course, I’d light up like a beacon as soon as I straddled the chasm between the living and the dead. And nasty things lived in that wasteland. I really didn’t want to encounter one of them.
“We’re going to have to move them,” I said, nodding at the couple while keeping my eyes averted.
“Is it possible to perform the ritual without disturbing them?” Falin asked.
“I can’t draw my circle. The bed is in the way.”
The three men conferred quietly. I meant to listen, but the two ghosts poking around the scene distracted me. Roy kept kneeling and pointing at this or that while Icelynne followed him, her dark eyes a little too wide. I couldn’t catch everything he said, but I clearly made out the words “arterial spray” and “signs of struggle.” Roy had been a computer programmer in life, and Tongues for the Dead didn’t typically work active scenes, so he had to be guessing, most likely based on crime shows, but Icelynne hung on every word he said, clearly impressed with his prowess as an investigator. I left them to it.