by Jami Gray
He shook his head. “Honestly, even if they said they did, I’d take it with a grain of salt as they weren’t exactly sober.”
I looked up from my phone. Since I’d have to defend this story to the other three hard-asses on the team, I pushed. “You sure they heard what they thought they heard?”
“Oh yeah. They were freaked, even today. They kept checking over their shoulders like men in black were hounding their asses. Paranoia like that…” He rubbed his chin. “So yeah, I believe them.”
Considering that Umber’s nose for bullshit was pretty damn good, it was enough for me. “Got it. I’ll do some poking around, see if I can figure out who ended up in the alley and why.” I was fairly certain I already had the who. It was the why that I needed. “Since I’m here, you mind if I poke around behind your shop?”
He got up from his chair. “Feel free, but I’m not sure you’ll find much. ACRT was all over it.” He flipped the chair around and pushed it back into the table. “You think you’ll find something they missed?”
I stood as well. “Don’t know—just need to walk through the scene.”
“You going to hit that alley as well?”
Am I? If Zev found out, he’d ream me a new one, but everyone on the team was otherwise occupied. Besides, it had been a week. What kind of threat could possibly still exist? I shoved that question aside before fate decided to take it as a dare.
“If I’ve got time, maybe,” I hedged.
Umber studied me for a long moment, looking far from happy. “If you do, you’d better watch your ass, girl. Something wicked is out there, and it’s not playing nice.”
Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
Chapter Thirteen
Whether my optimism was fueled by procrastination or curiosity, I couldn’t tell, but I stood in the space behind Umber’s shop and hoped to find something to rationalize my presence. With evening settling in, the strongest illumination came from the security lights bolted above the door. The dumpster was toward the back, away from the street, the concrete around it strangely clear.
I let the back door close, leaving me alone. I looked to my left and saw the traffic sliding by on the street. Anything that happened back here wouldn’t be obvious. I took my time studying the space, noting the newish dent down toward the bottom of the dumpster, most likely where Umber had smashed into it. There were fresh gouge marks in the pavement just a few inches from the dumpster’s current position. The metal container had been moved either during ACRT’s investigation or when Umber hit it. Other than that, there wasn’t much else to go on. Not a surprise. ACRT would have swept through this area, getting everything they could.
I finished my walk-through as an idea played along the edges of my mind. Being a Prism was a challenge, especially when trying to discover what I could and couldn’t do. Information was nearly nonexistent, so my only reference so far was the journal Sabella had given me. There was one passage where the Prism mentioned being able to pick up on magical echoes. She hadn’t gone into specifics on how she did it, but I had theories—one I hadn’t had a chance to test yet.
This was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. Maybe I would fail, or maybe I wouldn’t. Hell, maybe I’d get something but have no freaking idea of what it meant. That was the most likely outcome. Either way, it was worth a shot. Since I could feel active magic, it stood to reason that picking up on echoes had to work in a similar fashion.
Deciding this was as private as I was going to get, I moved until I could lean back against the wall next to the door and closed my eyes. I released the tight grip I kept on the awareness that clued me in to when active magic was near. It was nowhere near as easy as it sounded. At first, I let go too much and got a body slam of warding magic that left me hunched over, trying to catch my breath while my skin tried its best to crawl off my bones and my stomach threatened to turn inside out. Umber’s security was fully active. I shoved my mental shields back up so I could reconsider my approach, because this clearly wasn’t working.
Magic was not easily explainable—never had been. It was personal and innate, so instinct tended to be the driving force behind a mage’s strength. In my case, when I was behind the wheel and needed it, what made me a Transporter would just click on. It wasn’t as simple as being able to explain a process but was more like breathing. I needed air—I took it in, let it out. It was that simple. When I connected with a vehicle, every sense I called mine sharpened, became precise. I knew, at an unexplainable level, speed, mechanics, and reaction times and could anticipate minute changes that directly impacted my performance. The Guild had taken that innate skill and honed it through the years until it was an integral part of me, like my eye color or hair.
While Prisms and Transporters both had Mystic abilities, there was a big difference between the two. Being a Prism meant there was no one to train me on my gifts. Instead, I’d been left with trial and error and the tantalizing bits and pieces shared in the journal. I had to decipher vague descriptions provided by someone who thought the basics were a given.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have the first clue as to what made up the basics for a Prism, so having that magical ability was akin to working with a faulty ignition. To get my magic to work, I needed to be able to not only power the magical engine but also keep that power strong and steady. Otherwise, the magic would stall out. I’d spent most of my life trying to both build the hypothetical ignition switch with scrap metal and maintain it until I had something I could work with. During the last few weeks, I’d been diligently replacing those temporary pieces with solidly built basics until I was working with a better ignition—not quite the desired fully functioning one but better than what I’d had before. At the moment, it was just a matter of figuring out how to work with it.
I inched down that barrier between the world and my sense of magic. The uncomfortable sensation of the security wards shivered over me, but I kept at it. It took a couple more tries before I figured out how to adjust the gap. I didn’t know how it happened, and for future reference, I wanted to understand that, but whatever made me a Prism clicked on, shifting my perception to the next gear. Where before active magic had given me the heebie-jeebies, now it was as if a thin layer held back the worst of it.
Okay, I can work with this.
I could feel the flow of magic powering the security wards, and something told me that if I let my attention expand, I would be able to pinpoint individual sparks inside the building. Before that could freak me out, I throttled back on the magic, narrowing it to the alley.
When I was fairly certain the power wouldn’t gun its engine and roar free, I opened my eyes. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but what I was staring at wasn’t it. Although night was close, the alley was lit with a soft buttery yellow. I looked around for the light source but came up empty. I stopped moving and let my eyes go blurry just enough to soften the outlines of my vision. That was when it came into focus—a living net created by a thick weave of gauzy gold undulating with a hypnotic grace. Sparks of deep green, purple, and even silvery gray erupted along the lines every now and then, but when I turned to pinpoint the flash, they were gone.
The fluid movement stilled on the net’s far side then snapped like a wet sheet around a small creature. It pulsed, going from gold to sage green then back to butter before the weave relaxed and returned to its normal dance. In the glow of magic, I stared at the feral cat, who hissed at me then disappeared under the dumpster.
“Holy shit.” The words came out on an airless whisper as I realized I was seeing the magical layout of Umber’s security. I considered how cool this would be if I was into breaching security for kicks, but that thought was quickly swept away when the net began to flicker in and out.
Right, I need to concentrate. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I started at the far end where the dumpster sat, since that was where everything went down. I noted the flickers in my peripheral vision as I took my time studying the dumpster and the area around
it. It took a minute or so before I caught on to the fact that the magical construct danced just above the ground, coming close but not touching it. It was during one of those almost-touching moments that I noticed an anomaly.
I walked closer, picking my steps carefully and staying focused on what I was watching. At first, I wondered if it was a trick of the light, but with every dip and rise, the edge of the magical net changed color, seeping into a deep gold before shifting back to the softer yellow and then repeating in tandem with the movement. It wasn’t much of a shift, but the longer I watched, the more obvious it became.
Hmm. Since I had no idea what it meant, I did my best to spot any other areas where this phenomenon occurred. I wasn’t sure how long it took, but by the time I identified at least three, maybe four, other instances all near the metal container, a headache had set up shop in my temples. Recognizing that I’d strained a magical muscle, I released my hold on my magic, and it drained away, leaving me dizzy.
I braced a hand on the wall near the back door to Etched Chaos, dropped my head, and began the familiar breathing pattern used in my occasional bouts of yoga. When I was sure I wouldn’t stagger out of the alley like a drunk, I set out for my car at a careful pace. Once my butt hit the leather seat and my doors were locked, I started the car so I could get the AC blowing. As the cool air washed over my clammy face, I closed my eyes and took a few minutes to make sure I would be safe behind the wheel. My best bet was to go home, crash, and wait for the next day, but that wasn’t going to happen. Revved up by this newly discovered aspect of my Prism ability, I really wanted to try it again, this time in the spot where Jonas had bought it. Maybe I’d get lucky and find some sort of connection.
A small voice in my mind piped up that heading in solo to mess around with something I barely understood was a surefire way to guarantee that Zev would jump all over my ass. I shot back with the faulty logic that what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. That earned me a snort of exasperation and skepticism, which I firmly ignored. Then, as soon as I felt steady enough, I pulled up the address Umber had shared on my phone and headed for the spot where Jonas might have breathed his last.
Both Tempe and Scottsdale were cities that had decided light pollution was worse than crime, so instead of streetlights that actually discouraged illegal behavior, people who slunk in the shadows had plenty of nooks and crannies to call their own, bathed in a dull amber glow. Which meant that by the time I arrived, the last rays of the setting sun had been replaced by a mix of grays and blacks broken by weak pools of light.
The address sat in the not-so-great area of North Tempe and South Scottsdale. A couple of miles to the south or north, I’d hit either college nirvana or high-end shopping, but this in-between place had not aged well. It was an unsettling mix of well-used apartments, older homes no longer watched over by HOAs, and strip malls long past their prime. There were budget car lots and abandoned shopping centers that had once housed bulk food stores. If the recent wave of development by the university held steady, in the next ten years, this area would be swallowed up and left unrecognizable.
But for the moment, I was loath to park my car there. I circled the block of the address, trying to find a corner store or somewhere I could park without worrying about coming back to find my baby’s frame on blocks. About a half block down, near the corner, there was well-lit lot next to a car wash that looked promising. The business was a combination of self-serve and automated roller washes, but even better, it included well-lit parking spots. There were a few people taking advantage of the wash-it-yourself stalls, and traffic was fairly steady on the nearby street.
I pulled in, got out, and made sure to activate the car’s warding as a backup to the standard electronic security. Still a little light-headed but much steadier than earlier, I backtracked to the address that matched a strip of shops, most of which were long abandoned while a few held on by their fingertips. None of them were currently open, which ensured that my visit would stay low-key.
As I passed darkened windows and barred doors, I kept an eye out for security. There were a couple cameras that I doubted discouraged much of anything. The first one had a broken casing, and the second and third were aimed down at doorways, so swinging out toward the parking lot meant staying out of camera range. I strolled past the shop I wanted, noting the tagged plywood over two large windows and the heavy-duty lock and chain wrapped around the doors. Dust and grime coated the chain, lock, and doors. If it was used for parties, no one was coming through the front, which made sense if that action was going down at the back.
I kept my head down, just in case one of the cameras got lucky, and walked steadily. I got to the end of the building and went around the corner, aiming for the back. Garbage was piled up against an overflowing trash bin, and the stench was eye watering. My gaze skittered across the scene as I breathed through my mouth and picked up my pace.
I knew from the file that Jonas’s body had been found in the back, so I didn’t slow as I rounded the corner. A cement wall ran down the back, and the rush of traffic from the street out front barely penetrated. The space was narrow and dark. I could see how nefarious things could occur without anyone being the wiser.
As I stared into the gloom, a shiver ran down my spine, and I briefly reconsidered my decision. I shook it off. I’m here now, so best to just get it done. I pulled out my phone, activated the flashlight app, and moved farther into the alley. Even though I was trying for stealth, my footsteps sounded overly loud. Broken pallets leaned against the wall, and the weed-choked pavement was littered with typical trash found in such places—broken bottles, fast-food wrappers, old flyers, cigarette butts, and other unidentified debris. I moved the light over the ground, keeping it low, and picked up the darker side of a dumpster about where I thought the address’s rear entrance would be.
I angled my phone toward my torso and my feet, trying to keep the light contained. I was fairly sure there weren’t any cameras back here, but I wasn’t about to swing that light around and give away my presence on the off chance that I was wrong. Carefully, I made my way over to the door closest to the dumpster. A glint of metal sparked through the shadows. The door was sporting a new chain and lock, a sure sign that its party days were done. Not that it mattered because—fingers crossed—what I wanted would be out here.
I shut off the phone’s light, and the shadows pooling along the wall deepened. I kept my back to the building and crouched in case someone should happen by. Squatting in the dark was not good for my nerves. I knew I was alone, but it was still hard to shake off my unease. I unfurled the part of me that could sense active magic, searching for anything out of the ordinary, and came up empty. Right, then. I could excuse my jumpiness on the fact I was borderline trespassing and risking a misdemeanor.
A couple of deep breaths later, I was as calm as I was going to get. This time, I didn’t dare close my eyes, because that was just asking for trouble. Instead, I let them lose their focus enough to trigger my magic.
I couldn’t tell if the change was quicker because of my previous foray or because of my heightened sense of urgency. Whatever it was, the world around me shifted, the edges turning fuzzy, but this time, there was no magical net to be found. Instead of the warm glow I’d encountered at Etched Chaos, I discovered faint, filmy strands of what could easily be mistaken for smoke. They drifted in no discernible pattern and were difficult to recognize, and only the fact they rose fell in an invisible breeze clued me in to the fact that what I was doing was working.
Sweat lined my spine as I tried to hold on to the images, a task made difficult because the colors were faded and hazy and therefore hard to distinguish. Wrapped in the night shadows, they ran the gamut from wispy gray to ink black. These… echoes, or whatever, were maybe light purple or gunmetal gray. The only reason I could tell that much was because they were accompanied by a barely discernible hum of residual magic. The tidbit of power, weak though it was, hit my magical skin like pinpricks. The sensation wasn�
��t constant but faded in and out, much like the blurry trails. But just like at Etched Chaos, the magical waves flowed just above the ground without touching, even as their faint colors wavered. If I hadn’t known to look for that specific phenomenon, I would have missed it. Especially because when the waves changed colors, they were able to blend into the shadows, giving the impression they were winking out of existence.
Those strange blips of light and dark were clustered in the area in front of the dumpster, but something about them bothered me. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I shifted on the balls of my feet, tilting my head to get a better angle. It was difficult to stare without losing the hazy focus I needed. I set my fingertips to the pavement and leaned closer. The minute my fingers touched the ground, those broken spaces sharpened and took on definition.
I sucked in a breath. Is that a rune?
I tipped too far forward and had to shift my foot to regain my balance. That small move jarred my perception, and I lost the image. Even as I pinned the details in my mind, frustration rose. If those were runes or a sigil, they weren’t like any I had seen, which meant I’d probably need to share this discovery with Zev. And doing that meant admitting I’d gone out solo after promising not to.
Fan-freakin’-tastic.
While I wasn’t looking forward to that discussion, at least there was one positive takeaway from the night’s adventures—we had a connection. Whatever had happened here was disturbingly similar to what had happened at Etched Chaos, which meant the two scenes were tied together. Now it was just a matter figuring out what that tie was.
A sharp sputter of a siren interrupted my thoughts. Staying in a crouch, I pivoted back toward the opening as my heart pulsed in my throat and adrenaline rushed through my veins. A wash of red and blue was quickly followed by the steady scream of a police siren. An engine revved, the lights veered away, and the siren began to fade as the police sped down the main road.
