Otherworld 11 - Waking the Witch Read Free

it. This double killing last fall, then the single one ten days ago. Before that, the last homicide was a domestic incident in 1999.”
    “Lot of drug activity in town?”
    “It has its share, maybe a little more. You can blame that on a depressed economy, though. It’s not exactly a hotbed of gangsta activity. Mostly kids selling pot from their lockers, the laid-off guy down the road dealing out of his garage, that sort of thing.”
    “Do the police think it’s the same killer for all three?”
    “Yep, but only because otherwise they’d need to catch two murderers, and that’s more work than they care to contemplate.”
    “You’re going to make me guess what the supernatural connection is, aren’t you?”
    “I was just seeing if you’d pick it up. It’s—”
    I lifted a hand to cut him off. “Is the answer here?” I asked, pointing at the photos.
    He nodded.
    “Give me a minute.”

two
    I studied the victims for some sign they’d been killed by a supernatural—puncture wounds, gnaw marks, weird burn patterns. But the only sign of trauma was the bullet holes.
    Next I looked at the background for evidence that the victims had been used ritualistically. If so, then we probably
weren’t
dealing with a supernatural killer. There were black art rituals involving human sacrifice—usually high-level protection spells that required a life in forfeit for a life protected—but that’s a lot more rare among witches and sorcerers than Hollywood would have people believe.
    If these were indeed ritual murders, then the most likely culprit was Hollywood itself, for suggesting that it’s possible to harness the forces of darkness through sacrifice. As if a demon really gives a rat’s ass about a dead human or two.
    When humans ritually kill, though, they’re rarely subtle. Pentacles in blood are a particular favorite. Apparently, if you’re going to the trouble of proving what a badass occultist you are, you want to make sure the whole world gets it.
    However, even if the killer was human, that was a concern for us. The agency takes a few calls a year from supernaturals freaked out because some lowlife in their city drained a victim’s blood or left occult paraphernalia at a crime scene. I tell them to chill—most humans are smart enough to know vampires and witches and demons are the products of overactive imaginations, and the police will quickly turn their attention to more plausible explanations.
    Sometimes, though, exposure threats do bear investigating. We can never be too—
    I stopped. I lifted the photos and squinted at them. Was that a faint line under each body? Part of a circle drawn in chalk and hastily erased?
    “Do you have a better picture of this?” I asked, pointing at the line.
    Jesse shook his head.
    “What does the police report say about it?”
    “As far as I know, nothing. I haven’t seen it myself, but my contact says it wasn’t mentioned.”
    “Okay. But since it’s in a covered, unused area, the marks under the latest victim should still be there.”
    “That’s what I’m hoping.”
    All the magical races—witch, sorcerer, shaman, necromancer—had rituals that used chalk circles. The important part was the symbol presumably underneath these bodies. Once I’d noticed those chalk lines, I started picking up other very discreet signs of a true dark art ritual-flakes on the concrete that looked like dried herbs, a black smudge on the wall that I recognized as smoke from a burning brazier, an edge of silver, almost hidden in the latest victim’s clenched hand. A coin? An amulet?
    “The cops must have seen that,” I said, pointing to the silver. “Or the coroner did.”
    “I’m guessing yes, and I’m really hoping they’ll tell me what it is, but they may hold on to the information to weed out the killer from the cranks.”
    I looked at the two earlier victims. One had her left hand fisted and the other’s right hand was palm down on the ground. Either could have been