His grin faded. “Yes, of an animal corrupted with blood magic. An atrocity we are here to investigate so we can catch the person or creature with such disdain for life and foul practices. I am aware of the job.”

  “Most people don’t seem so cheerful at crime scenes.” It wasn’t an apology, but it would have to do.

  “This is a beautiful sunrise. I’ll not let a monster steal my joy in the earth and sun celebrating a new day.” He snatched a case out of the van and shut the door harder than necessary.

  Elves.

  I turned and marched toward the carcass. No matter how beautiful the sunrise, in this space, there was less joy. Blood magic was evil, and its type of evil liked to spread.

  People had been saying similar things about necromancers. Now wasn’t that a comforting thought?

  “Thank you for marking safe passage.” Nash came up beside me and studied the flags. “How high off the ground and the remains does the magic extend?”

  I pulled my thoughts back to the current problem, ignoring the pool of cold power in me. “Not far. Stay a couple of inches away and you should be fine.”

  Nash carefully followed the path and crouched a foot from the dead deer. “I’m not seeing any knife marks. The teeth impressions are similar, can’t say if it’s the same werewolf or not. The deer though, a good portion of the meat is gone. Unlike last time, this does look like a meal for a hungry carnivore. A doe this size has about forty pounds of what humans consider meat, more for a werewolf.”

  “Got it.” Mitchell finished adding the information to her notepad.

  Since this was way out of my area, I waited for the doctor to come to something that needed my help.

  “What kind of magic are you finding?” Nash asked.

  Wishing there was a less dangerous way to verify what my eyes were telling me, I extended a delicate probe over the deer. As before, I found spell fragments. They were a bit more intact. “A type of stimulant for the body. It’s a harsh spell, but I still can’t tell what it’s stimulating.”

  Nash backed away from the deer. “Can you purify it? I want to feel how it changes.”

  I started walking in a circle around the deer, dropping a line of salt and herbs. “Watch your eyes. The humans at the last scene could see the magic.”

  “Got it.”

  With the circle closed, I levitated the rune-embroidered cloth into the center and started the spell. It wasn’t as corrupted as last time, so it didn’t take as much power. The magic started dark before glowing gold. I closed the spell and carefully tucked the cloth back into its bag.

  “Not enough of a warning, Pine.” Nash glared in my general direction in between rubbing his eyes. Behind him, another set of headlights moved across the group as the forensics van parked.

  “How was I supposed to know how bright it would look to an elf? I have witch eyes!”

  Nash glared at me again before stomping over to the deer. This time, he rested a gloved finger against an intact part of the hide. Seconds ticked by. He lifted his hand away from the deer. “I’ll need the lab to confirm, but it seems like it stimulated the adrenal system, even after the deer died.”

  “That’s not supposed to happen, right?” Dead was dead. Unless I’d had another necromancy accident.

  “Body systems can keep working for a short while, but not usually to this extent.” Nash waved over the waiting crime techs. “I’ll be ordering more tests on the previous victim.”

  “I want to know as soon as you get official results.” Mitchell eyed the body. “First a humanoid and now a deer. Werewolf or big canine?”

  “I’ll run some tests.” He frowned at her. “Evidence from the first body was werewolf.”

  Mitchell’s phone rang. She answered and then pivoted until she was looking roughly north. “Be there soon.” She hung up and pointed at Nash and me. “You two, come. We’ve got another deer three-quarters of a mile that way.”

  Predawn had lightened the night sky. Between us and the direction Mitchell indicated, the lake curved, and a thick strip of trees blocked us from seeing shore. Before leaving, I ran a critical eye over the group. No one had any blood magic clinging to them. Good, the procedures were working.

  Mitchell and Nash were ahead of me, but a short jog closed the distance. I unsheathed my wand before we got to the woods, where it would be easier to ambush us. Call it self-preservation or paranoia, but I didn’t want to be on the menu for hungry blood magic or a hungry werewolf.

  We made it through the woods and to what passed for a beach without incident. The two officers were standing well back from the carcass, probably because this one smelled more than the last one. Or it smelled different, more putrid and less bloody.

  “Do you want to look at it before I purify the area?” The officers were contaminated, as was a sizable area around the deer. Likely the blood had splattered more, as this kill wasn’t as tidy.

  Nash shrugged. “I think I got what I needed.”

  “Mitchell?” I asked.

  “Do what you need to do.” Fatigue laced her voice.

  “Got it.” That was all I needed. The officers were more than happy to cooperate, and I had them and the contaminated areas surrounded by salt in no time. “Watch your eyes, Nash.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “I’m not an idiot, Pine.”

  Smiling slightly, I started the purification. It took more magic than the last one, but it was a larger and more heavily contaminated area, so that was to be expected. By the time I closed the spell, I was ready for a big breakfast and rest before I had to cast again. Purification spells were power-hungry, and last night hadn’t done my reserves any favors.

  “All clear.” I gave the officers a reassuring smile. “No more blood magic.”

  While they thanked me, Nash examined the remains. He was still squinting at the deer’s neck when Mitchell rescued me from the officers. I half-listened to her questioning them about the find and half-watched Nash. Other than being concerned about the werewolf coming back, they hadn’t seen anything but the mangled deer, which Nash was finding worth extensive study.

  Mitchell had the officers setting up a perimeter when Nash stood up, looked at the deer, and headed over to Mitchell and me. “Initial exam indicated this deer was killed about twenty-four hours ago by the same creature. I’ll have to do a full exam to verify that.”

  My stomach growled. “Sorry, too much magic with too little food.”

  “It happens,” Mitchell said.

  Nash just looked at me.

  If we kept working together, I’d have to ask what his problem was. Until then, I wanted to find waffles. “Do either of you need me to do anything else?”

  “Perhaps after I have a chance to run some tests. But not now.” Nash sighed. “Until the forensic team is done, all I can do is wait.”

  Mitchell sighed. “I can’t think of anything else for you to do here. I’ll meet you later to talk to the alpha.”

  “I’ll be ready.” I glanced at Nash. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  The walk back to my car wasn’t as creepy. Even this early, when my alarm would be getting ready to go off, morning light filtered through the trees, reducing the shadows that could hide a werewolf.

  I set the purification pouch back in Fabian’s trunk. As I pulled onto the road, I made a mental note to restock. I only had one more ritual’s worth of salt. With the number of scenes I’d dealt with so far, that simply wasn’t enough.

  My stomach rumbled again. “Hush, you. We’re almost there.”

  I took a right into Narzel Blast! I’m Awake!, my favorite breakfast diner. Even at this hour, their parking lot was half-full, but I managed to find a spot near the front door. A wave of warmth chased the cold away when I walked inside.

  The entrance could’ve been from any diner, with a bench seat along the wall and a hostess station weighed down by a stack of menus. The real character was further inside, where wallpaper featuring various explosions provided a backdrop for quotes. Featured squarely on the wall between the dining room and kitchen, bold letters proclaimed, “Caffeine, then blast Narzel!”

  Tomasina, full-time employee and brownie, hurried over. Like usual, her near-black hair was pulled into a tidy bun, and her red lipstick was as bright as ever. A single menu floated off the pile. “Just you?”

  The door opened, stealing the heat. Tea. I really needed tea to go with those waffles. “Yup.”

  “Pine, is that you?”

  I turned, hoping it wasn’t who I thought. “Harris.”

  He grinned cheerfully. “I told you, off work, it’s Wayne.”

  All I wanted to do was growl. Right now, he was standing between me and my food.

  “One or two?” Tomasina asked, another menu already lifting off the pile.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” His smile faded a touch.

  Narzel blast. It would be like kicking a puppy. “No.” At least this way, he wouldn’t be between me and my food.

  “Follow me.” Tomasina headed into the dining room, menus floating behind her. Three other brownies with dishes floating around them served customers and cleared tables. She took us to a booth in the very back, directly under a heating vent.

  I all but dove into the warm stream of air, leaving Harris to take the other seat. He settled in with an amused expression. Tomasina took our drink and breakfast order before hurrying off.

  Harris leaned against the table. “You are looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning.”

  “It’s been a long day,” I said dryly.

  Tomasina returned with a tray of beverages, water for both of us, coffee for Harris, and tea for me. “Your food will be out soon.”

  He waited until she walked away. “Only a case would have you out of bed and looking so official.”

  I’d forgotten I was wearing my TBI jacket. “Marvelous powers of observation.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He sipped his coffee. “Any relation to your other two cases? The incident at Get Magic Goods ended up on my desk.”

  “That’s right, ballistics.” Since I’d been involved in the incident, the investigation portion hadn’t been my job.

  Tomasina delivered our food, and I dug into the blueberry compote-slathered waffle. “How’s that going?”

  “Good.” He shoved a forkful of eggs in his mouth. “Need to recheck some calculations and finish up the final report this morning.”

  “Hence the early morning.”

  “Yup.” He poked at his omelet. “Every time I go through it, I can’t believe what Jameson did.”

  It felt like the last bite of waffles was lodged in my throat. I tried to wash away the sensation with water, but it only partly worked. Maybe one day I wouldn’t blame myself, but today wasn’t that day. “I wish I’d done more.”

  “Hey.” Harris pulled my attention away from my plate. Like a few days ago, he offered a mix of compassion and a haunting shadow of similar regrets. “I’ve gone through the scene at least a dozen times. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Maybe not, but I could’ve done more.” I stabbed the waffle.

  “Could you, though?” He let the question hang for several seconds. “Something to think about.”

  Maybe Jameson would’ve ignored a warning and things would’ve ended up just the same. Forgiving myself for that was one thing, but raising him from the dead… I’d violated him, and no procedure, policy, or training could change that.

  “But not over breakfast. This waffle is too good to cry on.” I held my breath, hoping he’d get the hint.

  He nodded. “That I can agree with.” He pointed at his plate with his fork. “Wet, salty eggs have never appealed to me.”

  “That’s an image.”

  “Sorry,” he said to his omelet.

  I snorted and steered the conversation back to work. Maybe he’d have some ideas about the most recent scenes. “An early morning call had me out by the lake. Two deer mauled, eaten, and covered in the same magic that I found at the machine shop, and very similar to what showed up at Magic Goods.”

  “Two?” He leaned forward. “So there’s more than one of these werewolves, right?”

  “Kills were a day apart.”

  “Really?” His eyes narrowed. “That puts the time line at one kill per day for the last three days.”

  In my mind, the past three days were divided by never-have-I-ever and oops-I-raised-the-dead. Until he had put it together, my mind hadn’t connected the events to the timeline. “I wonder if the kills feed the blood magic.”

  “I’ve never heard of a werewolf practicing blood magic. Is it even possible?”

  “Theoretically. They can siphon magic just like any other race, but why? What would a werewolf need that only blood magic could provide?” I prodded the one soggy piece of waffle left on my plate. Human hedge-practitioners were the group most likely to turn to blood magic, but that didn’t rule out a werewolf. “The stimulant spell wasn’t blood magic. If anything, that predated the blood magic.”

  “Who used a stimulant spell?” There was something in his voice.

  I met his intensity with my confusion. “I’m not sure. The magic has been messy. I think the werewolf, though again, why?”

  “Fighters take stimulants.” His voice was empty of emotion. “Sometimes to keep them alert, other times to amp them up before the fight.”

  “So do workers trying to get through a long shift.”

  “When’s the last time you heard of one of them leaving a half-eaten body behind when they leave for the day?”

  It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him, but it didn’t entirely fit. “The scene wasn’t organized. Even street fights have boundaries for the fighters. They don’t go running through a machine shop.”

  He shook his head. “You aren’t asking the right questions.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  Harris leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “Why would a werewolf, a fierce fighter, need to amp up before a confrontation? And who was this wolf intending to fight?”

  Well, damn. Those were good questions.