She turned back to me, a proud grin on her face. “Like my system?”
I looked between her and the rope that extended out the window, imagining the bucket swinging over the street. “Genius.”
Her grin widened. “I like to think so. They should notice it soon.” She strode to the small door that led to the kitchen. “Want some wine?”
“Yes.” The word burst from me, sounding a little too desperate.
Mac laughed. “Had a long day?”
“Let’s just say I wanted more than tea when I met you earlier at your pub.” I followed her into the little kitchen and accepted the glass of wine she handed me.
“What did you find out?” She handed me a glass of white wine, and I took it gratefully.
“He wants me to check the body for any missing organs.” I explained the whole encounter, watching as her frown deepened. “I think maybe he didn’t do it.”
“Maybe he didn’t. But that’s weird, though—the missing organs. Does he think a necromancer is involved?”
I nearly choked on my wine. “Necromancer? Like, raising the dead?”
“And other death magic, yeah.”
“Well, shit.” Just the idea made my stomach turn. Had Beatrix been killed by a necromancer? My eyes pricked with sudden tears.
“What wrong?” Mac asked.
“Um…” Should I tell her? I drew in a deep, uncertain breath. But I wanted to talk about Beatrix. “My best friend—only friend, really—was killed last year.”
“Oh, no.” Mac gripped my arm.
“I found her in an alley with her head bashed in. I was too late to save her, and—” I choked on a sob.
Mac pulled me into a tight hug, and something thawed inside me. I hugged her back, composing myself, then pulled away. “Anyway, I was too late. But she had a tiny spiral burn mark under her throat . . . the same mark that was on the dead guy I found.”
“A necromancer’s mark.”
My gaze flashed up to her. “What?”
“Magic often leaves a mark. If she was killed in the name of necromancy, a mark would have been left on her skin.”
“Oh, my God. Does that mean Beatrix is a . . . a . . .”
I faltered, unable to say it.
“A zombie?” Mac shook her head. “Not if you saw her body. That would be highly unusual. Something else about her death was used for the necromancer’s magic.”
“I did see it.” My head spun. “So necromancers don’t just bring back the dead?”
“No. They also use death in their magic.”
I nodded, trying to make peace with it. “The Devil might also think it’s a necromancer, then.”
“He either saw the mark on the body, or he made one to throw you off the scent.”
The necromancer might be a false lead? That meant the Devil might still be responsible. I struggled to believe it, but I had to consider everything. I remembered the feeling of him stalking me. He was a killer, there was no doubt. Whether he’d killed the guy in the alley was up for debate.
A shout sounded from the distance, and I realized it was coming through the living room.
Mac’s face brightened. “That will be dinner!”
She hurried into the living room and leaned out the window “Thanks, Berat!”
When she hauled on the rope, the bucket appeared, and she grabbed it and brought it inside. Reaching in, she retrieved a stack of takeaway containers, all glass.
I eyed them, impressed and grateful for the distraction. “Fancy.”
“Reusable.” She grinned. “Better for the environment.”
“You’ve got a good system worked out.”
“It’s the reason I’d never leave here. I don’t even have to ring them to order my takeaway.”
We settled down at the little table in the corner and dug in. The kebab was the best I’d ever had, and I swallowed with delight before talking. “Is there magic in this?”
“Probably.” She shrugged. “It’s not exactly legal—not here in Guild City, at least. But I think they’ve cut a deal with the Devil.”
“The same Devil I just spoke to?”
“Yeah. That’s the one. He’s not government, but with the power he has, he might as well be.”
“And the kebab place got his permission to put magic in the food? Like some special ingredient?”
“Yeah. The Council of Guilds—that’s our actual government, by the way—restricts most magic use. But the Devil can get around their rules by convincing the right people of the right things. Or threatening them. And if you want to get around their rules, too, you pay him, and he makes it happen.”
“So he’s like some kind of criminal kingpin.”
She shrugged again. “Basically. And maybe a murderer. Hopefully, Eve will finish that truth potion soon.”
I leaned back in the chair, my stomach full. It should have made me content, but stress over the murder kept me on edge. “I need to sneak into the morgue. It’s my only clue.”
Mac nodded. “I’m wary of your source, but he’s got a point. It’s worth checking out.”
I chewed on my lip. “Yeah, but how? I’m a wanted woman. My face will be all over the place.”
“We need to make you unrecognizable.”
“A makeover?”
“More like a disguise. Or invisibility, though that’s harder.”
“Does Eve have that stuff?” I was going to owe her a lot of favors.
“No. I mean, maybe she has some of it. But the people you really want to see are the witches.”
“The ones I’m not supposed to get on the bad side of?”
“Same ones. But sometimes, we need their help.”
“Can I trade them more favors?” I was throwing them around willy-nilly, but I needed to save my cash for living expenses, and somehow, it was easier to promise favors to be paid in the future. Maybe it was a bad idea, but it sure was easier. And why solve a problem today if I could solve it tomorrow?
“That’s what they’ll want, probably, yeah.” Mac looked out the window, and I followed her gaze. The sun had set, and it was darker outside. “It’s nearly the full moon. The witches will be having one of their masquerades tonight. We can sneak in, then try to sweet-talk them into helping us.”
Helping us. Gratitude welled inside of me. “Thanks, Mac. Seriously, from the bottom of my heart.”
“This is cool. And you’re cool. I don’t mind.” With that, she surged to her feet and clapped her hands. “All right. We need to get dressed up!”
I stood, grinning at her. Damned if this wasn’t cooler than my normal life.
8
The Devil
One by one, my muscles unfroze. The room was silent—the woman had been gone an hour, maybe more. Already, it felt like she had never been there. Her scent had left the air, along with the slight warmth she brought. The strangest sense of loss echoed through me, and I frowned.
Loss? Why the hell should I feel loss?
Why the hell should I feel anything at all?
But I did, and it was the oddest damn thing.