The collector-or reaper, as Roy had called him and maybe that was a more appropriate name-looked down at the souls he clutched. He still hadn't vanished the man, whose screams had given way to begging. The woman's soul just looked confused, as if she still didn't understand. Then the reaper vanished, taking the souls with him.

The woman's body finally collapsed, hitting the ground without her ever making a sound.

A frenzy had already stirred the crowd outside the gate, but now it lifted to a new pitch, bordering on chaos. With two bodies on the ground, the police didn't have to wait for warrants. They stormed the lot, pulling the skimmers away from the rift by force, dragging them when they wouldn't cooperate.

The skimmers might have been blissed out of their minds from contact with the Aetheric, but they noticed being dragged from the source. They struggled, screaming, fighting, and cursing. Filled with raw magic, their curses and their very anger, took shape. As an officer attempted to restrain one woman, a black and red cloud of unfocused rage lifted out of her and engulfed him. The officer jumped back, beating at his arms and chest as if swatting dozens of stinging insects. Another officer fell to his knees, grasping his throat as a sludgelike bubble of magic encased his head.

The antiblack magic unit officers were better prepared. Their personal wards and charms helped them shrug off the unfocused spells, and now that the skimmers were using magic against them, they retaliated in kind. The first skimmer went down, unconscious under a spell. Then another. A third one got caught in a circle.

The remaining skimmers glanced at each other, and then scattered, Bell among them. Three officers went after the large man, and he turned. Magic pooled in his palms. A lot of magic.

"Look out," I yelled a moment before Bell flung the raw magic at the closest officer. Not that anyone besides Falin heard me.

The officer might have been warded against a lot of different spells, but nothing can ward you against an a.s.sault of raw Aetheric energy. It slammed into his chest, knocking him off his feet, and the smell of burned flesh spread over the lot. Bell ran for the river and threw himself into the current. The officers chasing him stopped at the edge of the rushing water, the beams of their flashlights skittering over the choppy surface.

"He's gone," Falin said, shaking his head.

I scanned the water, waiting for Bell to surface for air. He didn't. "Think he survived?"

"The current isn't too dangerous here."

True, and Bell had gone into the water absolutely bristling with magic. With that much raw Aetheric energy at his disposal, who knew what he was capable of? Unless the overload had completely addled his brain, which was possible. One way or another, he was gone and the skimmers' claim on the crime scene was broken.

Four people left the vacant lot in body bags, nine more in ambulances, and five in handcuffs. The rest of the skimmers escaped.

"It's a little higher," I said from where I stood outside one of the ambulances. "Like a cloud around his head and torso."

The man in question groaned as another pus-filled blister burst open in an angry welt on his forehead. The healer leaning over him lifted his hands a couple of inches and glanced at me. I nodded to let him know he was now in the center of the cloud.

"Can you sense what color strands of Aetheric were used?" he asked.

I didn't have to sense it. I hadn't closed my shields, so I could actually see the mottled miasmic cloud of magic, though that wasn't a fact I was sharing. "Red, but it's dark, so more than one color. Primarily red, though."

The healer nodded and turned toward his patient again. His fingers trembled, and he clenched his hands. His Adam's apple wobbled as he swallowed, but then he forced his fingers straight again and nodded as if he'd come to some conclusion. His eyelids drooped as his gaze focused inward, and a thin string of energy appeared between his hands.

The string grew slowly, snaking almost un.o.btrusively through the cloud of magic. I watched, monitoring the curse. The healer's gently glowing spell wove through the mist, building a spiderweb of green channels. The curse finally noticed and a tendril of magic shot out the side.

"The cloud is dividing. The new section is pooling over his thighs."

The healer spread his arms, making the thread of magic stretch. Muscles twitched in his face with the strain, but he kept the flow of magic even until his slowly building tapestry of magic disrupted the structure of the curse. The destructive mist shattered.

"You got it," I said as the spent Aetheric energy dissipated.

The healer's hands dropped, and he sagged where he sat. "Thank goodness," he said, even his voice raw from the effort of dispelling the ill-formed curse. "You ever think of going into curse-breaking? You're definitely sensitive enough to do the diagnostic work."

"Not really my thing," I said as I stepped back, out of the open ambulance door. The healer remained behind. I didn't blame him; he was spent. Besides, I could see Tamara helping another healer with the last officer hurt during the skimmer bust, so there were no more patients to tend.

I gave a wave to the paramedic when he jumped out to shut the ambulance doors. Then I turned away and headed back for the fence and the crime scene beyond. The police had secured the area and once again access beyond the fence was limited. Which meant I still hadn't gotten to study the ritual s.p.a.ce I'd come to see.

"Miss Craft, I'd like to say I'm surprised to see you here," a familiar voice said, and I cringed. Agent Nori. I turned toward the voice, but when I saw her through my grave-sight, I realized I wouldn't have recognized her if she hadn't spoken first.

Nori's typical glamour resembled her fae mien only in that they shared the same basic shape. Under that glamour her skin was tinged deep blue and her features had a razor edge, her chin and nose ending in sharp points. As she strolled toward me, her wisp-thin body moved as though her hips were shaped differently from those of a human or as if walking wasn't her most comfortable way to travel. She watched me with large, multifaceted eyes, like a fly's, and I looked away before she realized I was staring.

"What can I do for you?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and rocking back on my heels.

"Could you stop with the glowing eyes for a moment?"

"No, actually I can't." I'd been peering across planes for at least an hour at this point, and my regular eyesight was definitely shot by now. If it had been the middle of a very bright, sunny day, and if it hadn't been going on nearly twenty-four hours since I'd last slept, I might have been willing to hope my eyesight would adjust once I closed my shields. But it was the middle of the night and I was physically exhausted even without factoring in the amount of magic I'd used. I wasn't willing to spend the rest of the night in utter darkness. Especially not here.

"Fine." But her tone didn't agree. A high-pitched keening sound cut through the air and I glanced around, startled. Nori either didn't notice the sound or it didn't concern her because she continued without pausing, "I got word that an anonymous informant clued Detective Matthews in on the presence of a body on the grounds." She nodded to where the cadaver dogs were sweeping the lot. "I'm going to a.s.sume that call came from you."

As I couldn't deny it, I decided to remain silent. A search of the abandoned tent city had turned up a single left foot, apparently still encased in a boot. The cadaver dogs were now searching the banks, but I knew they wouldn't find anything else. Not nearby at least.

When I didn't answer, the keening I'd heard a moment before sliced through the air again. Is Nori doing that? Or was it coming from behind her? I shuffled sideways and shot a surrept.i.tious glance over her shoulder. A double pair of iridescent dragonfly wings almost blended in with her dark suit where they were tucked tight against her back. The wings sprouted from somewhere near Nori's shoulder blades and trailed down to her calves like a membranous cape, but I would have missed them completely if the strobing lights from the police cars and fire trucks hadn't been reflecting off the thick veins. Her wings twitched in time with the fingers she strummed against her elbow as she watched me, and as they rubbed together, they emitted the strange, high-pitched screech I'd heard earlier.

"Should I take a guess how you knew the foot was on the scene? Maybe you placed it there."

"You know how I knew," I said, and then cursed inwardly. She'd just gotten my admission to making the call. Of course, it wasn't like my ability to sense the dead was the secret I was hiding.

Nori smiled, flashing a double row of needle-thin teeth. I tried not to show a reaction, but by the way her smile spread, I knew my face had given me away.

"Here is the way I see it, Miss Craft," she said, that strange keening sound filling the air again. "There is a second rift allowing the Aetheric to bleed into the mortal realm. There is compelling proof to suggest that you were responsible for the first known tear, which means you likely caused this one as well. The proximity to a crime scene means the two are likely connected. That alone is enough evidence to have a fae summoned to Faerie while further investigations occur."

"I-"

She cut me off with a wave of her hand. "Even if the two are later proven not to be connected, the current evidence looks d.a.m.ning, so that fae should be taken back to Faerie for his or her own protection. Humans can be ruthless to those they don't understand."

I swallowed. She was threatening me. There was no denying at this point that she knew I had fae blood, and she wasn't giving me an option of not going to Faerie. Will she slap cuffs on me and drag me off right here and now? My gaze shot past her head, searching for Falin. He was near the gate, talking to two men in suits who I was pretty sure I'd seen identify themselves as working for the Amba.s.sador of Fae and Human Relations. I met Falin's eyes, just briefly, but hopefully long enough to convey that I could seriously use an intervention. Then I focused on Nori again.

"I didn't open that tear," I said, instilling as much certainty in my voice as possible.

She frowned. She couldn't insist that I was both fae enough to be held under fae laws but human enough to lie. Though I supposed she could still drag me to Faerie under the pretense of protecting me from humans who perceived me as being able to open rifts.

"Is there a problem, Agent?" Falin asked as he joined us.

And the cavalry arrives.

"Sir." Agent Nori stood straighter, her wings flaring behind her. "I believe this . . . person . . . should be detained and transported to Faerie immediately," she said, and then repeated the scenarios and reasoning she'd given me a moment before, though this time the tone of her delivery held no threats-it was just the facts of her case.

Falin listened to her recitation and my pulse beat double time despite the exhaustion and chill as he nodded at several of her points. If she hadn't been talking about me or suggesting the gross violation of personal freedom, I'd have thought she made a compelling case, which wasn't rea.s.suring. When she finally finished, Falin rubbed his chin for a moment, as if weighing the decision.

He won't really let her cart me off to Faerie, will he? I didn't actually know.

I glanced behind me at the cops who were processing the crime scene. I spotted several familiar faces working the site, John among them, which was a relief. The NCPD wouldn't interfere if Nori arrested me, but she couldn't just make me disappear into Faerie. I was a legal citizen and I had friends who would make sure I was granted due process. Of course, that relied on someone knowing what had happened to me. I took a step back, closer to the gate, and prepared to cause a scene if it came to that.

Thankfully, it proved not to be necessary.

After a moment of deliberation, Falin shook his head. "I think taking her to Faerie now would be premature." He turned to me. "Miss Craft, you are appearing too frequently in this investigation. If you value your time in the mortal realm, I suggest you consider your actions very, very carefully."

I nodded, trying to look properly admonished and frightened, which considering that the idea of being dragged to Faerie scared the c.r.a.p out of me, wasn't hard. Besides, the pompous delivery of Falin's threat might have been for Nori's benefit, but I knew full well that he meant every word of it.

A film crawled over Nori's multifaceted eyes from the outside toward her nose and back-a blink?-and she said, "Sir, I'd like it on the record that I think it is in the best interest of the queen, the fae, and even Miss Craft herself if she were removed to Faerie."

"Duly noted, Agent. You're dismissed."

She stared at him, that keening sound issuing from her wings, the disharmonious notes rising in decibels until the sound grated in my head like nails down a chalkboard. Falin turned his back on her, accenting her dismissal.

"Miss Craft, since you are at the scene already, there are a few matters I'd like to discuss with you," Falin said in the same professional but antagonistic tone he'd been using since he interjected himself in the situation, but as Nori stormed off his voice dropped. "She's going to cause trouble," he muttered, shaking his head.

He ran a hand through his hair, the movement stiff, jerky, and I frowned as I studied the exhaustion written across his face. I myself felt ready to drop, and while he'd gotten a few more hours of sleep than I had, he was also healing from a nearly fatal wound.

"You okay?" I asked as I touched his arm. Why do people do that? Touch people they're concerned about? What comfort or rea.s.surance can it really give? But I didn't even think about it; I just flowed into his s.p.a.ce and reached out as if we had some sort of history instead of an acquaintance that would equal less than a week if all the moments we'd actually spent together were added up.

Falin looked at where I touched his arm, and a small smile crooked one edge of his lips. The expression didn't change a single line of the exhaustion in his face, but it did make him look less haggard, not quite so worn down. He covered my hand with his gloved one and squeezed my fingers gently. Then he stepped back out of reach and straightened, becoming once again the no-nonsense FIB agent in charge.

"Come on," he said, turning toward the gate. "You came out here to walk this scene. Your presence has already done all the damage it can, so let's check out this ritual and get out of here."

Chapter 20.

I signed in with the uniformed officer manning the gate. I sure as h.e.l.l didn't have clearance to cross the crime tape, but there were so many different agencies on the scene, I don't think the hara.s.sed man knew who was supposed to have access to where. I had an FIB escort, and that was good enough for him. Preventing the scene from being contaminated was a lost cause anyway. With the skimmers, Bell's security and lawyers, Lusa and her cameraman, the paramedics and healers, and the magical scuffle that had occurred, the week-old murder scene was a mess. I didn't envy John his job.

And speaking of... "Hey, John," I said as I approached my favorite, but currently very exasperated, homicide detective.

"Alex?" He c.o.c.ked his head to the side, which, considering that he was the lead detective and I'd just walked into a crime scene, was a better response than I'd expected. Then his gaze landed on Falin and his posture stiffened. "Detective Andrews, this is a crime scene."

"Agent, actually," Falin said, flashing his FIB badge.

I could almost see wheels turning behind John's eyes as he looked at the badge and refit Falin into a new box in his mind, reevaluating the events of a month ago and the Coleman case with the new knowledge that Falin was FIB. Finally he nodded.

"Alex, I don't particularly need you here, so unless . . . ?" John tilted his head, the implied question going to Falin.

"I'd like her to walk the scene."

"Fine." John jerked his head in a curt nod. I don't think he meant to project it, but when he focused on me I caught the disappointment in his gaze. Then he turned back to the CSI and ABMU officers he'd been talking to before we'd approached.

The dismissal stung almost as much as the look I'd seen in his eyes, and I stood there stunned for a moment. I mean, I'd been the one who called him with the tip about the body, and we were both out here in the middle of the night searching for clues about who'd caused this nightmare. Of course, he was a cop, so looking for murderers was his job, not mine, and the FIB and the police didn't have the most solid working relationship. My showing up on the scene with Falin probably made it look like I was throwing my support to the enemy. With that in mind, I tried not to take it personally, but as I walked away my footsteps felt heavier than they had before, the exhaustion pressing on me worse.

I would have liked to head straight for the rift, but as far as anyone knew, my specialty was only the dead. I had appearances to maintain, so Falin led me to the bridge and the dilapidated tent city first. The booted left foot had been found amid a pile of shoes inside a fire barrel. No one had told me how many shoes had been collected as evidence, but I'd heard two techs mention that all the empty shoes had been rights. The one left in the bunch contained a foot. So what is happening to the right feet? Or the rest of the bodies, for that matter.

I stretched my senses as we walked. Many of the tents and lean-tos sported charms and one or two were even warded, which surprised me, though I guess it shouldn't have. I didn't spend a lot of time considering Nekros's homeless, but it could happen to anyone-norm, witch, or fae alike. I took a moment to examine each of the charms my senses brushed against, but most were charms to prevent leaking or to discourage spiders. None felt malicious or carried the magical signature from the feet or constructs.

"Let's move on," I said once we'd walked the entire encampment.

As we headed back up the bank, I tripped on an empty bottle half buried in the loose stones and only Falin catching my elbow and steadying me kept me on my feet. I glared at the offending bottle, but the real problem was my own exhaustion. I wasn't sure when I'd started trembling, but I'd been doing it for a while and I couldn't stop. I'd been straddling the chasm between the living and the dead-as well as a couple of other realities-for too long. I'm going to pay for this later.

But for now I needed to hold on to my grave-sight a little longer. At least until I could get a good look at whatever ritual had happened around the rift. It might have been better if I'd walked the whole scene and not drawn attention to my interest in the rift, but if I was going to see that hole, I needed to do it now-ish. I said as much to Falin. His lips thinned to a grim line, but he nodded and led me on a more direct path.

"I think we have enough cadaver dogs on the scene already," a snide voice said as I drew near the rift.

The skin along my neck p.r.i.c.kled. Jenson. Haven't I dealt with enough for one night? Unlike Nori or even Lusa, Detective Jenson wasn't someone I could hope I'd never see again once the case was over. He was John's partner, and I didn't know if he blamed me for John's getting shot and that was what was with the att.i.tude for the last few weeks, but it would be better for everyone involved if we could at least be civil toward each other. So I forced a smile I didn't feel as I turned toward his voice. And then I froze in my tracks.

Jenson stood a couple of yards away, his thumbs in his waistband, his right hand suspiciously close to his gun. But that wasn't what stopped me; what gave me pause was his face. His jaw was wider than normal, and it jutted forward in an underbite that provided room for the two tusks protruding from where his lower cuspids should have been. The tusks curled over his upper lip, the skin around them dark and calloused from years of contact.

"What are you staring at, Craft?" he asked, glaring at me.

I shook my head, blinking. His image didn't change. The rest of his face was normal and exactly the same as always. It was just his jaw and mouth that were different. His soul glimmered a normal bright yellow, which I'd come to a.s.sociate with humans.

"Troll blood?" It was a testament to how tired I was that I asked the question out loud. I tried to bite the words back as soon as they escaped my mouth, but of course, by then it was too late.

Jenson's expression darkened as the color built in his face. "Oh, so you can figure that out, can you?" He stalked forward. "Look at you. Homicide's darling is a f.u.c.king faerie in hiding. Who would have guessed?"

As Jenson crowded my s.p.a.ce, Falin moved to block his path, but I touched his arm, stopping him. This was something Jenson and I had to work out for ourselves. In the years I'd been working with the cops, I'd learned that for some of them, there were only two ways for me to earn any respect: be helpful in putting the bad guys away and be able to hold my own. Jenson had always been one of the former-or so I thought-but if he was swinging toward the latter, Falin running interference for me would only make things worse.

So I stood up straighter, exaggerating the inch or two of height I had on Jenson and tried to minimize my trembling. Jenson had decided to get in my face, and though I wasn't about to get in a catfight at a crime scene, I would meet his challenge.

"That's a rather ironic insult, all things considered," I said, my voice low since it didn't have to carry far at this distance. I let my gaze flicker to one tusk so he knew exactly what I was talking about.

The blotchy color filling his cheeks flushed a deeper crimson. "You think that's funny?"

Funny? "I'm not following. Do you have a problem with me?" My newfound heritage? My job? My abilities? What exactly was he lashing out at? Yeah, I'd figured out he was feykin, but it wasn't like I was going to out him.

"Yeah, I have a problem with you."

I stared at him, waiting. "Okay. What's the problem?"

Jenson sneered, his upper lip rolling back from his tusks. Then he brushed past me, knocking me with his shoulder hard enough to send me stumbling. I kept my feet under me, but only just barely. What the h.e.l.l was that about?

I glanced at Falin, who looked just as perplexed as he watched Jenson's retreating back. Jenson's issues with my, or maybe his, heritage-or whatever his issue was-wasn't a problem I needed to waste energy on tonight. Time was slipping away from me, the night speedily rushing toward morning. I closed my eyes for a moment, no more than a second, and the world felt like it swayed around me. d.a.m.n. I needed to wrap this up, get home, and get some sleep before I collapsed where I stood-which was starting to feel like a real possibility.

I turned my attention to the tear in reality.

I wasn't sure what the area looked like if viewed just on the mortal plane, but with my psyche crossing several planes of existence, the scene was a mess. Residual magic hung in the air and pooled on the ground in murky patches. The smell of burned gra.s.s stung my nose, and the evidence of a struggle showed both in the way the Aetheric moved around patches of magic it didn't like and on the ground. Numbered plastic markers littered the area, alerting the techs to evidence that needed to be processed. Most marked footprints, but here and there I saw a rune drawn in the dirt. Or at least what was left of a rune. Footprints obscured most, and the one that had drawn my attention on TV had a long tunnel of dirt bisecting it where it looked like someone's heel had been dragged across the ground.

d.a.m.n.

I walked closer, trying to find some pattern in what remained of the runes. I felt the residue of the circle as I reached the outer edge, and I stopped before crossing it, letting my senses stretch. Unlike the charms I'd felt in the tent city, the circle definitely held the signature of the witch behind the murders and I shivered at the touch despite the fact that a magical circle was completely neutral magic.

"This is where the witch cast the circle."

"I guessed that much," Falin said, and when I glanced at him in surprise, he pointed toward the ground. "That's where the dead gra.s.s starts."