Page 10 of Villains Never Die

“I’ll look into it. Maybe.” Why did these things always have to happen in the middle of the night? I could send Gray, but he was probably fast asleep.

“Cool,” Rook said. “Answer your phone next time.”

“I have no intention of talking to you again.” I sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at my walk-in closet. What did I even wear to a murder investigation? I had about twenty tailored suits, none of which would make me inconspicuous if someone saw me lingering about.

“Ouch. That hurts my feelings.”

“I didn’t know you had any.”

“See you around, England.”

I gritted my teeth at the stupid nickname and hung up on him. Wide awake, I stood and rummaged through my closet for something to wear.

***

I crouched on top of a five-story building overlooking the corner of Broadway and Blue. The river lapped lazily against a muddy shore, the water dark at night. Five people stood around a corpse, lighting a circle with orbs that glowed midair at regular intervals around the body.

It was difficult to see their faces, but as far as I could tell, none of them were Council representatives besides the dead man on the ground. The others—the representatives for the shifters, fae, vampires, and humans—sent grunts to investigate this. They may have worn fancy clothes, but they were grunts nonetheless.

I cast a simple spell to carry their voices on the air and listened as they mused about what foul play had taken place.

“It’s the same as the last one,” a woman said. “No hands, no tongue. They didn’t want him casting.”

A man held up a square of paper the length of his thumb. “‘One evil with seven faces,’” he read.

“He’s writing a message one body at a time,” said the woman.

Oh, that’s ominous.

We could try to find him for you so you could talk to him.

Are you just going to pretend that phone call earlier didn’t happen? I think he was excited to talk to you again.

I resisted the urge to shush the restless spirits. The people below me searched the rest of the body and came up empty for clues.

“H-how long of a message do you think it will be?” another man asked. This one sounded young, and I couldn’t see his face, but he sounded like he might vomit up his dinner. He took another glance at the body and turned away.

“Get a grip. This is part of the job.” The woman crossed her arms and shook her head at him. “As for the message, I don’t want to find out. Bag the body, and let’s get him back to the morgue for examination. We need to find out who did this before the election, or no one will want the position.”

They zipped up the body and transferred it efficiently to the back of an unmarked black van. I’d seen enough. One text on my phone summoned a driver to pick me up several blocks away, and I climbed in the back of a sleek SUV.

As I rode home, I wondered who would be bold enough to kill a Council member. The Council was the only semblance of a government the supernatural community had, even though most of their bullshit was handled among themselves—shifter packs and fae courts and whatever else they got up to. Still, they’d been known to make arrests or even carry out executions when someone from our world threatened its secrecy.

Blackwell was a ballsy choice, and I had a prickling hunch that this was about to get worse. Why would Rook tell me about this? I berated myself for thinking of him. Too often I circled back to him lately. Blackwell was the highest authority magicians in this city had, and if the killer was brave enough to take him down, who was the first victim? The Council member’s murder went far beyond escalation. Or did it? Was the other victim someone of power as well?

Worse, was this about to become a pattern? That’s what humans call a serial killer, right? A pattern of victims. As I watched the city pass by, I wondered what the next part of the message would be.

Chapter Five

Panic spread through magicians like a plague. The Council could only keep Blackwell’s death silent for two or three days before someone—a diplomat or a secretary—leaked the news. It spread to the others: the vampires and the fae. Even the shifters, despite all their bravado, grew uneasy.

A smog of wariness hung over the supernatural world.

All his death was to me was an inconvenience. People backed out of deals and fled the city. Black market buyers were stingy with their money. No one wanted to be named or noticed, not when a murderer ran loose in the city. All the discretion I operated with meant nothing.

I needed this resolved before it affected my bottom line, so I sent Gray to investigate the only other angle available to me—who was the first magician killed?

Obsession was too strong a word for my interest in my other question, which was, why the fuck did Rook want me to know about it? I sat at my desk, staring at my phone and the number he had called me from, embarrassed that I’d saved it. I contemplated tossing my phone at the Persian rug spread acrossthe office floor. I rubbed my thumb over the keypad. I wouldn’t call him. That would be ridiculous. I didn’t need his help.