Sibbie was already waiting for me outside the Roccia Nera Police Department's stoic modern building when I pulled up behind the line of parked cruisers. Driving around so many cops always made me nervous, as I was prone to playing different, terrible worst-case scenarios in my head. Sib would say I was overreacting, but I'd always thought being overcautious was better than being dead.
My friend got into the car and tossed her purse into the backseat, flashing her gun and badge when her suit jacket fell open. Her door came shut with a click, and I slowly eased the car into the line of traffic, using my blinker as I stuck to the speed limit with extreme care. Sibbie chuckled.
"You know, they look for people who obey all the rules a little too well. It makes you suspicious."
"You're joking."
"No, I'm actually not."
Frowning, I stepped on the gas to better match the speed of traffic as Sibbie chuckled again, reaching into the inner pocket of her jacket to retrieve her phone. She rattled off an address with a sigh, muttering about overtime and unappreciative captains as I interrupted her.
"I don't recognize the street name, Sib. Where is that?"
"Oh." She paused as we came to a stoplight and entered the address into her phone's GPS application. "Here—."
Sib stuck the phone in my face, almost knocking off my glasses. Grunting, I leaned back so I could see the map—and almost swore when I saw the street was in Amondale.
Why did it have to be Amondale? I dreaded going there about as much as I hated Alfie's house.
Amondale had once been a suburb in the southeastern climes of Roccia Nera's county, but when the Riots happened and the majority of the city's human population was either killed or fled, the suburb was abandoned. Looting and vandalism ruined most of the homes in a few short years. Unnatural copses of wild thorn trees and vicious plants cropped up thanks to the Unseelie magic flooding out of the Court of the Archon farther west. In effort to cut down on the amount of crime in the area, the city council had almost all of the suburb bulldozed—but a few houses, tucked out of sight in all the trees, survived.
"Someone reported another dead vamp," Sib explained as we crossed the aqueduct into the ruins of the east bank and I sped up. "We've had a lot of them lately, all dumped in the county limits, and most done on the east bank."
"Makes sense. There's more neighborhoods and tract housing on the west bank, while there's almost nothing out here—well, if you discount the Fae lands." Which, if I were being honest with myself, was not a smart idea. The Court of the Archon, the Unseelie court, and the Court of the River, the Seelie court, were both located in the mountains on the eastern side of the county. Their territories split this side of the valley in half.
Sibbie sighed as she leaned on her arm and stared out at the ruins still scattered over the land. "See, that's another problem. We found that one vampire alive yesterday out by the Court of the River, but we don't know where he came from. No ID, no registration, but some of the others who've been discovered were from some local cadres."
My skin prickled with dread. "Anyone from the Havik cadre?"
Her eyes narrowed as Sibbie peered sidelong in my direction. "No. The Havik cadre only has—what? Four people in it? I'd think we'd know if one of them showed up dead."
Grim, I nodded, then changed the subject. "Which cadres?"
"A man from the Caron cadre, and a boy from the Merula cadre."
I ran my hands over the rough, sunbaked surface of my steering wheel as I continued to drive. Neither cadre was as large as the Emial or the Volkov cadres, but both were moderately sized and definitely larger than the Havik cadre.
"The man and the boy both turned up on Court of the Archon land. Both Eloise Caron and Guillem Merula have been to the station to complain, and the captain worries that if those complaints go unanswered, the cadres may take matters into their own hands." She exhaled, puffing out her cheeks. "If the cadres and the Dark Fae get into it, innocent people could get caught in the crossfire."
I didn't point out that the threat of violence breaking out between the preternatural was constant in Roccia Nera. She was just as aware of that fact as I was.
The flat plain of the valley's belly was sloping gently upward toward the forested foothills where Amondale dwelt. I glanced out Sibbie's window—toward the south—where the woods of Amondale merged into the hulking, monstrous trees that enshrouded the Unseelie Court of the Archon. Trees like that didn't naturally grow in southern California. The entirety of the destructed plateau where the woods and forest grew was flooded with a thin, but perpetual, magical mist that came issuing out of the Dark Court like it was an industrial steam engine.
I'd always thought the permanent haze had tasted like blueberries. I should know. After being set free from the barn, I'd lived in Amondale and in the Unseelie outskirts for seven years.
"Don't think I didn't notice how you changed the subject," Sibbie said, flicking my cheek to get my attention. "Why'd you bring up the Havik cadre? That's usually no-go territory for you."
Rubbing my cheek, I grimaced out the windshield. As we drove, I began to tell her about what happened the previous evening, about being snatched from my office and carted off to Fiume, about Emial's demand and Havik's less than subtle threat. When I finished recounting my story, Sibbie's face was scrunched with displeasure and we were entering the first saplings at the woods' edge.
"And you just—agreed? To do something for Havik?"
"Well, you know, I really like my blood inside my body, Sib." I ground my teeth as the area's magical fugue began to press against me. Like diving into deep water, I'd adjust to the pressure in a few minutes, but the initial encounter was always uncomfortable. "And he knows about—about my scars. I don't know if he knows what I am, but he knows something."
"Is he blackmailing you?"
"No?" The word came out as a question. Honestly, I wasn't sure. I hadn't wanted to escalate the situation and find out how far Havik was willing to take his threats.
Our conversation subsided once we were under the tree limbs and the sunlight thinned and its watery patches began to dance across the road. I turned where Sibbie indicated I should, and soon we found ourselves on one of the slender, sketchy trails that appeared and disappeared at random throughout the foothills.
After a handful of minutes, Sibbie told me to stop.
We got out of the car and I shivered at the taste of blueberries and wet lichen filling the air. The forest was quiet and cool, its autumn colors wan in the late season and the shadows thicker than they should be. There was a rickety wood fence lining the trail and, in the distance, I spotted the shell of a caved-in house. I had a rough idea of where we were, but Amondale was a strange place. It was easy to get lost.
"Okay—," Sib said as she kicked the rusted mile marker with her scuffed shoe. It wobbled in protest. "This is where the report came from."
Of course, there wasn't a dead body laying out in plain view. That would have made her—and by extension our—job too easy. We both glanced around, then let out dejected sighs.
"I guess I'll go look over there," Sibbie grumbled as she indicated a thicker, darker patch of trees and brambles on the opposing side of the trail. "Do you think you could check out that side?" She pointed to the reedier part of the wood where the sunlight came through in thicker bursts. "Yell if you see anything suspicious?"
I smirked as I adjusted my glasses. "Recruiting civilians now, detective?"
"Hey, whatever it takes to get the hell out of Amondale before nightfall. I am not getting stuck out here past dark."
I had to agree with her on that. Some places in Amondale were okay to roam in the evening hours, but those places were few and far between. People were known to up and vanish in the night around here, gone without a sound or sign of protest, almost as if they'd simply dissolved into the nothingness. Local rumors spread between those who yet lived here stated that those who disappeared were taken by the Dark Fae.
Wonderful timing on that thought, I berated myself as I hiked my leg over the fence and landed in the dormant brush. I took a few, hesitant steps toward the tree-line and half-hoped the body would suddenly appear. I knew my day must really suck if I was willing the bodies of vampires to drop out of the sky.
The grass was knee-high where the young trees grew wispy and thin. Sibbie had taken the more dangerous side of the road—probably because she was a detective with a gun. I walked slowly, but with purpose, checking the dips and grooves that riddled the untamed land as I worked my way through the wood. I saw nothing.
The eerie silence was broken by the crunch of footsteps. Sibbie appeared with one hand on her hip and the other buried in her unbound hair.
"Nothing," she snapped, kicking dead leaves in her frustration. "If this is a damn prank report—."
She made a ripping motion and I snorted.
"I could...check, if you want," I stressed, lifting my brow. Sibbie caught my meaning and pursed her lips.
"I don't know...." She knew I could use my ability to speed up our search exponentially, but Sibbie was a good friend, and she didn't like the idea of using me for her own ends.
I rolled my eyes as I gave her my arm. "Just hold me upright."
Her fingers locked on my elbow just as my ability spilled forth. It leaped out of my body like a bull first charging from its pen, all bluster and fury, then hesitated to observe its surroundings. My mind slipped with each exhalation and reformed within the bounds of my ability as my conscious thoughts escaped into the magic.
In the eyes of my talent, the world appeared anew, highlighted by the impressions emotions and magic left upon it. The trees and bushes were given shape by the slow-moving fog of Unseelie magic, though Sibbie was the brightest spot in my proximity. She was a tangle of nervousness and exhaustion, the color an alarming mixture of pulsating red and sluggish yellow. They were working her too hard at the department.
I pushed past her in search of the dead vampire. What essence could be found in the forest was paltry and diluted by the presence of magic billowing down from the Court higher in the foothills. I didn't expect to find the body itself, as Sibbie had said it was a body dump, not the kill site. The body would have residual colors attached to it, but they would be weak and difficult to spot. Instead, I was searching for the one who must have dragged the vampire out here. They would have left a trail for me to follow.
I looked for that trail, but after several minutes of letting my ability meander about the space and taste the faded echoes of those who'd come before, I couldn't find anything. There were spots on the outskirts of the forest where humans had passed by, but there was very little of anything in the woods, and nothing that would suggest a killer had passed through here.
Unless whoever was killing the vamps was a psychopath who felt nothing at all and left no emotional essence behind. That thought made my skin crawl.
Though it was a bit outside of my range, I pushed myself across the sun-dappled field to where the shell of the house lay crumpled like a crushed soda can. I couldn't sense anything in that direction either, but I wanted to be thorough to spare Sibbie from having to search the wreckage too. The woods were creepy enough without adding a hunt through a dilapidated ruin to the agenda.
I meant to give the house a quick look over then be on my way. Nothing immediately jumped out at me from a distance, so I didn't expect a closer inspection to reveal any better results—but as I entered a room that might have been a kitchen in the past, my ability slipped through something strange.
At first, I didn't understand why the spot had caught my attention. There was nothing there, and then I realized I was exactly right. There was nothing in that particular space—no essence, no emotion, no magic. The Unseelie power leaking from the Court of the Archon painted everything in the area with its influence, giving form to trees, the building, and the grass in my mind's eye. The lack of magic in the single corner of the kitchen meant something was there that the fae magic couldn't touch.
I came back into my body and stumbled when heat lanced through my flesh, setting my scars ablaze inside my clothing. Fortunately, Sibbie still had a grip on my arm, so she kept me from crumbling into a worthless pile as she watched with concerned eyes.
"There's something...there," I said with a heavy exhalation, gesturing to the building's remains. "I'm not sure what, but I sensed something out of place, something that shouldn't be out here."
After strength returned to my weak legs and my lungs stopped screaming for air, Sibbie and I paced through the quiet field to the ruin, my friend walking before me with her hand lingering at her unclipped gun. I threw a quick vein of my ability ahead of us, pinpointing the anomaly again, and was relieved to see it hadn't moved.
Sibbie and I had to clamor over rotted timbers and folded walls to get to the kitchen. The appliances inside all dated back before the eighties, and the remnants of the vinyl flooring were torn to smithereens. What drew our attention, however, was the dead vampire thrown into the same corner where I'd found the anomaly.
It didn't make sense. I knew the last emotions felt by a person clung to their bodies in death, even when the magic that animated them was gone. If their death was violent or poignant, the emotion would often leave a stain that lingered through decomposition, incineration, and internment.
The vampire had died violently. His milky eyes were wide in terror, and his throat had been slashed by a jagged weapon, leaving a bloody maw below his open jaw. Given that the smell hadn't become overpowering yet, I guessed the creature hadn't been dead long, not long enough for the residue of his magic and death throes to have dissipated.
Even so...I could sense nothing. Not a trace of magic, as if the vamp was an utter void—just like the vampire from the graveyard the night before.
"Hey, Sib," I whispered as we both stared at the dead body, unable to look away. "Did you know Emial took over the Gilded Glass?"
"No, I didn't." My friend wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and swallowed, her eyes closing as if she could banish the scene before us from her mind. "Something's happening in the vamp world, Grae, something bad. If we're smart, we'll keep our heads down and stay out of their business."
I nodded—but dread filled my veins and edged my thoughts, because I was certain whatever scheme was unfolding in Roccia Nera's vamp population was somehow connected to Theda's disappearance, the reallocation of the Gilded Glass' ownership, and the presence of these strange, milky-eyed vampires.
It was too late for me. I was already involved.