Chapter 6

The private morgue was a forty-five-minute drive, which surprised me. So did the diminutive blonde who exited the building wearing black slacks and a nice cream blouse covered in orange polka dots. Two claw clips were buried in her hair without managing to tame its wildness one whit. I felt her pain.

Harrow inhaled slowly, exhaled even slower, then opened his door and stepped out. "Carter."

"Harrow." She made an ID badge appear and disappear between her fingers like she was some kind of a magician. "This must be your expert."

"This is Ms. Talbot," he said, approaching her while I grabbed a retro bowling ball bag from the trunk.

"Hi." I dipped my chin to avoid watching her inspection. "Nice to meet you."

"Carter is my partner." His smile was sharp. "Temporary partner."

"I get the joy of showing him the ropes," she explained, shaking my hand when I reached her. "Six weeks until he can hare off on his own. He's counting down the days. Harrow doesn't play well with others."

"I've been a cop for two decades. Chief Leer doesn't have to baby me."

"You're new to the unit. That means you're a newbie. Newbies get a training officer."

"Let's go." Harrow cupped my elbow and led me down a long hall to the door at the end. "Ready?"

"Yeah." I checked over my shoulder, unnerved to find Carter right behind us. "Can we do this alone?"

"He doesn't have the clearance to bring in outside help." Carter studied me. "You're the necromancer."

Cold sank into my bones, creeping across my chest, and voices from the coolers mumbled awake.

The other shoe? Yeah. It had finally dropped. Right on my head.

He told her. He outed me. He guaranteed I couldn't disappear into my old life.

"What I am is out of here." I clenched my fists to control myself. "This is not what we agreed, Harrow."

"Frankie." He caught me before I made it too far. "There's something I need to tell you."

"I don't want any part of this." I shrugged him off me, balancing my bag in case I needed a weapon. "You told her."

A cop. He told a cop. One I didn't know and therefore didn't trust not to sell me out in a heartbeat.

"We already knew about you." Carter shifted to block the exit. "He didn't tell us."

We.

Us.

"Who are you?" I waved away the wrong question. "Who do you work for?"

"She doesn't know?" Carter waited for Harrow to confirm. "Ms. Talbot, will you come with me?"

Despite this latest betrayal, I still looked to Harrow for reassurance. Not because I trusted him but because his vow to Josie would get me home again in one piece.

"Go." He braced a shoulder against the wall. "She won't hurt you."

Carter led me into a cramped waiting room and locked the door behind us. "That's better."

Ice stung my palms, spreading into my fingertips, and the dead whispered in my ears.

Breathe, Frankie. The last thing you want is to make the SPD think you're a threat. Abigger threat.

"Have a seat." Her voice snapped me to attention. "I'll explain the situation."

Only after she sat, and I thawed a bit, did I take her up on the invitation. "Explain away."

Without offering me any, she tore open a small bag of snacks and started crunching cheddar puffs.

"There are enough supernatural law enforcement agencies around that we all step on each other's toes, whether we mean to or not. You're familiar with sentinels, I'm sure, who have the Society's best interest at heart, but they're small potatoes compared to some of the bigger organizations out there."

When she lapsed into silence, I prompted her to prove I was paying attention. "Okay."

"Humans aren't quite as ignorant of the existence of paranormal creatures in cities like Savannah—and, say, New Orleans—as we like to pretend. They've seen too much. Heard too much. Most of them have a friend or family member or lover who's not wholly human. They know humans aren't alone in the world. They're the people who don't have to see a vampire to know in their bones that they exist."

As many times as I had seen people ghost hunting in cemeteries, especially in New Orleans, I didn't have to stretch my imagination to believe her. "I've met my share of people like that."

"SPD is also aware of the existence of folks like us." She linked her fingers on her lap. "Chief Leer is half selkie. Living this close to so much fresh and salt water, he knew Savannah would draw more than its fair share of necromancers and vampires. There are fae here too. Daemon. And other things. Worse things." The corner of her mouth lifted in a dark curve. "Things the Society doesn't care as much about policing."

"Are you telling me your chief has jumped on the bandwagon and started his own para taskforce?"

"He calls it—us—The Unmentionables because he thinks he's a comedian." She rolled her eyes. "Officially, well, unofficially, since our unit doesn't exist, we're the 514."

Gaze drifting to the door, I put it together. "Harrow is part of your unit. That's what you meant earlier."

None of this made sense. At all. Not even a little bit.

Harrow never used magic, and he didn't want others using it either. Or he hadn't. Until he came home.

Yet he joined the SPD's spook squad? Why? To be a force for good in the para community? Not likely.

"He's only been with us about a week, but he's a promising recruit. Most of the 514 are half human and half something else. Others are half one thing and half another. I get the feeling you know what Harrow is, and you must trust him to come here alone with him."

The alone part bothered me. It sounded like a warning. "I can take care of myself."

"I have no doubt." She tore a fingernail and stuck her finger in her mouth. "Damn it."

The smell of her blood caused hairs to lift down my arms, as if my hindbrain recognized its scent and had started screaming for me to run. Whatever she was, better to sit still and not tempt her. "Need a Band-Aid?"

"Nah." She held it up for my inspection. "It's healed."

"I'm not sure why you're telling me this." I decided to be upfront with her. "Are you scared I'll rabbit?"

"You have a home, a job, and two siblings with special needs, so no. You wouldn't run unless we left you no choice. As I said, we're aware of you. We have been for a while. Your reputation is getting around as an ethical practitioner of what many would claim to be an unethical practice."

Moans echoed through the room, stuffing my ears, the dead eager to rise and aid me.

Deep breaths, Frankie. Deep breaths.

Muscles twitched in my calves to run, run, run, but I wouldn't get far with Harrow waiting in the hall.

"I see I've alarmed you." She scooted one chair down to give me space. "This is why Chief Leer handles orientations. He would have done yours too, if Harrow trusted him enough to tell him you were here."

"No one else knows?"

"Harrow wouldn't have told me if he could get in alone." Her smile was wan. "He cares about you."

"No." I corrected her misconception of our relationship before she got any ideas. "He doesn't."

"Whatever you say." She let the matter drop, for which I was grateful. "I'm not here for that."

"Other than to let us in, why are you here? Do you really have to watch me work?"

"You have a talent I've never seen or heard of, and I've been around for a minute."

"Before you ask, I don't know who or what my parents were. Are? I don't even know if they're alive."

"We're aware." She chuckled at the flash of temper brewing in me. "We've done a thorough background check. We had to be sure you weren't a threat. A power like yours has a lot of uses. Some of them not as tame as enabling spirits to visit family or fulfill last wishes or write postmortem wills to prevent bickering among any loved ones left behind." She rolled her hand. "Like murder."

"I would never?—"

"I'm not accusing you of anything, Ms. Talbot. I'm simply telling you I admire your skill and look forward to understanding the mechanics of it better."

"That's a polite way of saying I don't have a choice but to let you evaluate me as a threat."

"Harrow hasn't been with us long enough to vouch for you, and you two have history. From what I can tell, having just met you, it was a rocky ride. Because of that, his view of your talents and your trustworthiness is skewed. I'm here to unskew it."

"Any history we have is just that. History. He won't bend the rules for me, and he certainly won't break them."

"Then let's do this." She rose and smoothed her silky top, smearing the orange polka dots. This close to her, I could tell they weren't part of the design but fingerprints. Cheesy ones. Like cheddar puff residue. The woman was clearly an addict. "Here's something for you to think on."

The weight of the world balanced on my shoulders when I stood. "What's that?"

"Maybe you don't know him as well as you think, because he did bend the rules to get you here." She flipped the lock and palmed the knob, glancing back at me before she twisted it. "Another reason why you need an impartial witness in that room as much as he does."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Seems only fair."

"What's with the cheddar puffs?"

"You know how they say addicts never recover, they only replace one addiction with another?" She lifted her snack. "Trust me when I tell you cheddar puffs save lives." A spark of crimson ignited in her gaze. "They deserve a fucking medal for their service."

Note to self: Watch out for Carter when she's hangry.

Filing that away, I slipped past her into the hall where Harrow straightened from his lean.

"Are you okay?" He approached me slowly, as if I might bolt if he moved too fast. "Do you still want to do this?"

Aware of Carter positioning herself between me and the exit, still snacking away, I was backed into a corner and knew it. "Would you let me leave if I said no?"

"Yes."

"The worst part is you look like you mean it." I sidestepped him and the pleat of his brow that wanted me to believe he cared how things had gone down in that room and what I thought of him now. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

The loaner restedon a stainless-steel table in the center of the room with a white sheet pulled up to her chin to hide her nakedness. I set my bag down, retrieved what I needed, and arranged the supplies on a nearby tray the same as the mortician would have earlier.

Loaners remained in a sort of suspended animation, which required their organs to maintain basic functions without the type of magic expenditure that would lay me out for a month. There was also preserving aesthetic value. Fresh Y incisions didn't make for an attractive presentation. No. That part, the autopsy, came later.

For Brightman, whose contract I would have to terminate early, later was now.

"Ormewood has a connection to this body, so I should be able to summon her without much trouble."

Harrow must have heard something in my tone. "Have you seen her?"

"No." Since he brought it up, I decided to go fishing. "I haven't heard from her daughter either."

Had the kids gone missing or been hurt, I would have been her first call, right?

"The daughter. Yeah. About that." Carter posted herself beside the door, blocking it in a subtle way that conveyed she wanted to put me at ease while I worked but also wasn't letting me past her. "You're sure Ormewood had kids with her?"

"Three of them. That much I remember. Then Ormewood started screaming and all hell broke loose."

"Can you give us a description?"

"I can't even tell you gender. It happened so fast." I cut the leggy wicks on my hand-poured candles with a pair of silver shears. "I can ask Josie, see what she remembers."

"We would appreciate that." Her gaze dipped then rose back to mine. "We couldn't find them. The kids. No one has filed a missing persons' report on them either. Could be as simple as they were old enough to call for help or get themselves home, but I would feel better if we could verify the details. You keep files on your clients, right?"

"Confidential files, yes."

Movement caught my eye as Harrow eased closer to me, his sharp gaze slicing through Carter.

With a flick of her wrist that dismissed his warning, she kept digging. "Can you call the parents?"

"I can verify whether or not the kids were returned home safely," I agreed with reluctance.

Those kids had a family. A grandmother willing to cross the veil to spend time with them. l didn't want to be wrong. I wanted them to be home. Safe. To not be the reason they got hurt. But to be sure, given this latest news, I would have to engage the daughter, requiring me to dream up a pitch for the information.

Do me a solid and tell me if your kids made it home after their grandmother killed a vampire maybe in front of them, possibly scarring them for life, or if they're potentially missing and you hadn't realized it yet because you trust your mother to keep them safe even if she's incommunicado.

"That would be helpful." Harrow retreated to where Carter stood, his jaw tight. "We appreciate it."

"Brightman has no next of kin. She left her final wishes with me. When will you release her remains?"

With this being a para morgue familiar with the extenuating circumstances, it shouldn't be a problem.

"After the coroner has finished his report," Harrow promised, eyeing Carter as if daring her to make him a liar.

Chuckling at his scowl, she nodded agreement then settled in to watch the show.

Humming softly, I lit the candles. Head then feet. I chose a piece of orpiment from the steel tray to place in her right hand. I opted for yellow apatite in her left. I selected a palo santo smudge stick with a charred tip and lit it with a solid silver lighter. As the smoke curled and twisted, I walked widdershins around the body, calling to Ormewood through song as I held a mental picture of her at the forefront of my mind.

Snapping open a lancet, I pricked my finger and left a thumbprint on the loaner's forehead. I thought, for the briefest second, I heard Carter growl, but when I checked, her expression was smooth. She wasn't skittish about blood, so I must have imagined it. "Timor mortis conturbat me."

Flames danced as a sudden breeze stirred my hair, twirling the smoke into words in a forgotten tongue.

Carter dropped her arms to her sides and leaned in. Harrow held so still I wasn't sure he was breathing.

Tearing open an alcohol pad, I wiped the loaner's forehead. "Vita mutatur, non tollitur."

Seconds ticked past, but the loaner remained still and silent. I waited a minute. Five. Ten.

"Performance anxiety?"

Jerking my head toward Carter, I found her staring hard at the body, willing something to happen.

Heat rushed into my cheeks, and I fumbled the wipe, dropping it on the floor.

"I've got it." Harrow swooped in to pick it up then trashed it. "Take your time, Frankie."

Harrow had seen me summon. He knew the drill. Carter must have expected more theater. She frowned at the body, either disappointed it hadn't twitched or unimpressed with my low-key ritual.

"I've done this a thousand times." I scanned the room for a glimmer of spirit. "I don't know?—"

The candles gouted flame a foot in the air, sending me stumbling back. The loaner wasn't as lucky, losing the tip of her braid to the fire. Just as fast, the candles guttered, leaving the stink of burnt hair behind.

"What the hell?" Carter took a step closer. "What was that?"

Before I caught my breath, a black film coated the candles like a rind, reducing them to dust.

"I don't know." I dipped my finger in the residue, but it wasn't waxy. "This reaction is..."

Spirits don't always answer on the first try, but often distance was to blame. The farther the spirit had to travel from its grave to reach its summoner's location, the less likely it was to fully manifest a form. I had seen it happen a few times, had it happen once or twice too, but never with results like this.

"Ormewood's not coming, I take it."

"No." I could tell her that much from the quiet in my bones. "Can I take pictures?"

"As long as you crop out the victim's face." Carter studied me. "And you share what you learn."

"Sure." I snapped pictures then texted them to my mentor, Madam Vionette Fontenot, in New Orleans. "My friend keeps odd hours. I can't promise when she'll get back to me."

"We'll take any help we can get." Harrow indicated the remains of the ritual. "Are you done here?"

"Yeah." I reached for a pack of baby wipes from my bag. "Let me clean up, and I'm finished."

Easing out of my way, Harrow fell into conversation with Carter while I scrubbed the table clean. And if a dry tissue with a dusting of ashes wound up tucked in my bag while they weren't looking, these things happened. If I couldn't get in touch with Vi, I would have to pursue this peculiar outcome on my own.

"Done." I gathered the bag from the trash can and tied the top shut. "You got somewhere to put this?"

"I'll take it." Carter accepted it with a greedy tug. "I don't want the techs asking about it in the morning."

Maybe that was true, or maybe she wanted a sample too.

"I can catch a ride with Carter, if you want to go on home."

Angling toward Harrow, whose gaze dipped to the bag where I had stuffed my bit of evidence, I had a feeling my sleight of hand was rustier than it had been the last time we met. "That sounds good to me."

Happy to walk myself out, I absolved him of his vow of protection, since he wouldn't be present to fulfil it, then left them talking in the morgue.

The first breath of night air eased the tension in my shoulders and expelled the antiseptic from my lungs.

Since I still had my phone out, I went ahead and texted Josie an update.

gt;Do you remember anything about Ormewood's grandkids?

gt;gt;There were three. That's about it. I was too worried about me to worry about them.

gt;Okay. Just curious. Leaving the morgue now.

gt;gt;The morgue???

gt;I thought I told you that part.

gt;gt;No one mentioned a morgue. There was no talk of a morgue.

gt;See you soon.

The drive to the Minchins' cutesy bungalow gave me a chance to digest everything Carter had told me and everything Harrow hadn't told me. Probably why he stayed with her. To avoid me quizzing him on what else he was hiding. Had his uncle gotten sick? Was that part even true? Or had he been recruited to the 514 because he had ties to Savannah?

Debating if I wanted to drop in or drive by the Minchins', the choice was stolen from me when I couldn't find a place to park. A massive SUV, two cars, and three trucks filled the driveway and nosed the curb on their property.

The whole family must be visiting with Mrs. Minchin and picking up their casseroles. That meant, at least for now, she was safe. Since I didn't want to intrude on their family time, I decided to call with a word of caution tomorrow. Assuming she didn't come back later tonight.

Despite my exhaustion, I didn't head home. I started that way. That was where I intended to go.

Yet somehow I ended up parked at the cemetery.

A knock on my window lodged a scream in my throat as a pale face peered through the glass at me.