Chapter 12

I stared at Roy. The killer in Faerie kidnapping fae and draining their blood to distill their glamour was then creating a drug with it that was somehow making it to mortal hands? Why?

I glanced at the bodies at my feet. Both teens had imbibed Glitter and now their shades were weak, exhausted. The first victim we knew of, Jeremy, had also taken the drug and had a weak shade. There had to be a connection. The drug somehow burned them out to their core. And it had something to do with pure glamour. And snakes, which Jeremy was terrified of, and a clown from a horror movie. But again, why?

How did murder of kidnapped fae and seemingly randomly chosen mortals relate? What could a fae gain out of the deaths? Fae who lived in Faerie rarely cared about mortal currency, and besides, with both cases involving Glitter, the shades claimed the drug had been given to them, not sold. So what did the alchemist want? And how can we find and stop him? I did not want to see any more horrific scenes like this or like the grotesque display of Icelynne’s body.

I turned to Falin. I guess I expected him to be thinking the same thing, but all that was written across his face was cautious concern. John was similar. Jenson just looked impatient. Of course, they couldn’t hear Roy. As far as they knew, John had asked me to question the shade. I’d turned, and then stared off into space.

I opened my mouth to tell them what I’d learned and then stopped. It was fae business. Falin needed to know, obviously. Jenson was debatable. He was feykin, and a cop, but he was independent. Once the FIB knew the connection, he’d likely be off the case. John was plain vanilla human. The queen might be annoyed if I told a mortal cop someone in Faerie was releasing a drug made from glamour to humans. Still, he was a friend, and a cop on this case. Didn’t he deserve to know?

“The drug is from Faerie,” I said, and the expressions around me went from concern, to confusion, and then the two faes’ features turned toward dismayed anger. I decided it was best not to add any specifics.

Falin’s features returned to neutral annoyance in the blink of an eye, and he turned toward John. “This is now officially an FIB matter. Clear out your men.”

John huffed and stood straighter. John was by no means a small man. In fact, I’ve used the phrase “grizzly bear” to describe him before. But Falin was the freaking assassin and knight of the winter court. Even if John didn’t know those particular facts, Falin had a badass aura to him. When you met his gaze, something inside you knew that he wasn’t someone you wanted to meet in a dark alley. It didn’t hurt that he was taller as well so he literally stared down at John, making the detective look up at him.

“Unless Alex has some proof for that statement, I intend to finish the interview with this shade,” John said, and then looked at me.

I looked to Falin. He scowled. The queen would be royally pissed if I discussed Icelynne and what was happening inside the winter court—she’d been trying pretty hard to conceal it. Continuing the interview seemed the better plan. When Falin didn’t stop me from turning to the waiting shade, I assumed he agreed.

I asked the shade John’s timeline question, and he laid out the events of his evening. Most of the events we already knew or guessed, but confirmation was always good. The couple had arrived at the hotel and checked in just after eleven. Bruce had shared the Glitter with Shannon soon after they arrived. They’d gotten comfortable—aka clothes had been removed—and then Bruce had cued up the horror movie. The movie was less than halfway through when the clown had climbed out of the screen.

His description of the nightmare clown chasing them around the room was delivered clinically, the shade detached from the story, even as he described the first stab to his back. How he’d stumbled into the bed. I shivered and wondered why no one had called the police, or at least the front desk. Surely the teenagers were screaming? The story wrapped up soon after that, Bruce’s death not far behind the stab to his back. Shannon was still alive in his last memory, but she clearly hadn’t been for much longer.

John then sent for a sketch artist to question the shade on the appearance of the man who’d given him the drug. The artist took notes without starting his sketch. He’d worked with me before, and he knew that as the shade couldn’t provide feedback about the drawing, his time was better spent asking detailed questions about the dealer’s physical description. I knew he’d review the audio back at the station where he would put pencil to paper.

Finally, the sketch artist nodded, his questions finished. I sighed in relief, a sigh that came out jagged as I trembled. I looked around, asking with my expression if anyone had other questions. Exhaustion clutched at me and the icy chill of the grave sliced at my skin. Being so cold while still in touch with the grave was a bad sign. No one ventured another question, and I sighed with relief.

“Rest now,” I told the shade, releasing Bruce back into his body. Some of my life-affirming heat followed the well-worn path through my psyche back into my body, but it did little to warm me.

“Did you need to question Shannon as well?” I asked, trying to keep my teeth from chattering.

John glanced at his notebook, then at the bodies in my circle, and then finally at me. For one excruciating second I thought he’d say yes, but finally he shook his head. Thank goodness. As tired as I felt, I wasn’t sure I had the energy to put the eroded shade back together. It couldn’t have been much after noon, but I was ready for bed, or at least a long nap. Yeah, that sounded divine.

Wrapping up my ritual, I released my hold on the grave, not the least bit surprised when unbroken darkness covered my eyes. I’d used a lot of magic. I’d be blind for a while. I broke the circle, but then just stood there. Not being able to see while standing in the middle of a crime scene beside a pair of murder victims was not a good thing. With my luck, I’d end up tripping and sprawled on top of the bodies.

I had a moment of indecision as I debated opening my shields so I could at least navigate out of the hotel. Then a hand cupped my elbow.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Falin said, his hand on my arm guiding me gently.

I let him. The AC of the hotel gave way to the midday heat, the sun only slightly warm against my chilled skin.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a car door opening. As I was pretty sure I’d locked my car and he hadn’t pickpocketed the keys, I assumed it was his car.

“Yeah, otherwise I have to hang around here for a while.”

“Unavoidable either way, I’m afraid. That is, unless you want me to arrange for someone else to drive you home.”

Not really. A yawn caught me by surprise and my jaw cracked with the movement. I covered it the best I could with the back of my hand before shrugging to Falin.

“If you don’t mind me catching a nap in the passenger seat, I’ll be fine here for a while.”

I couldn’t see it, but I swear I could feel his frown. I was weak and I’d just used a lot of energy while I didn’t have a lot to spare. At least we’d learned something useful.

“About the vials of Glitter . . .” I told him what Icelynne had told Roy about the alchemist and the direction of my current thoughts on the case. He made a couple of noncommittal noises as I spoke, but didn’t interrupt or add his own opinions. He was silent for a long time after I finished.

“You should get some rest,” he finally said, and while it was true enough, I couldn’t help feeling disappointed that he’d brushed me off without word one on the case. He knew finding the alchemist and associates was the only way I was going to get my independent status. Of course, he was the queen’s man, and she’d rather add me to her court than let me have relatively free rein.

I yawned again, the movement turning into a full-on sway. I needed to sit down. Without another word, I climbed into the car and reclined the seat. I barely even heard the door shut as I closed my eyes and drifted off.