Sometimes, though, exposure threats do bear investigating. We can never be too—

I stopped. I lifted the photos and squinted at them. Was that a faint line under each body? Part of a circle drawn in chalk and hastily erased?

“Do you have a better picture of this?” I asked, pointing at the line.

Jesse shook his head.

“What does the police report say about it?”

“As far as I know, nothing. I haven’t seen it myself, but my contact says it wasn’t mentioned.”

“Okay. But since it’s in a covered, unused area, the marks under the latest victim should still be there.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

All the magical races—witch, sorcerer, shaman, necromancer—had rituals that used chalk circles. The important part was the symbol presumably underneath these bodies. Once I’d noticed those chalk lines, I started picking up other very discreet signs of a true dark art ritual-flakes on the concrete that looked like dried herbs, a black smudge on the wall that I recognized as smoke from a burning brazier, an edge of silver, almost hidden in the latest victim’s clenched hand. A coin? An amulet?

“The cops must have seen that,” I said, pointing to the silver. “Or the coroner did.”

“I’m guessing yes, and I’m really hoping they’ll tell me what it is, but they may hold on to the information to weed out the killer from the cranks.”

I looked at the two earlier victims. One had her left hand fisted and the other’s right hand was palm down on the ground. Either could have been holding something.

“Who’s the client?” I asked.

“Me.”

When I glanced up, he looked faintly embarrassed. “See, that’s the problem with knowing Lucas. You get this urge to do pro bono work.”

“It’s called guilt.”

“No kidding, huh? I’m not a crusader, but every now and then something like this crosses my radar. A necromancer buddy with the Washington state police recognized signs of what looked like a real ritual. He can’t jump in without raising eyebrows, so he passed it to me.”

I took out my iPhone and logged in to our database, tapping the virtual keypad as he continued.

“Officially, though, the mother of the last victim hired me. I tracked her down and offered to investigate in return for her confirming that to anyone who asks.”

“A free PI. Bet she was happy.”

“I wouldn’t say happy. It took a lot of fast-talking to persuade her I wasn’t running a con. Even made me sign a waiver.”

“Did she seem reluctant? Maybe for a reason?”

“Nah, just a legal secretary who thinks she’s been at the job long enough to practice law herself.”

I turned around the phone to show him a list. “I plugged in what we know, and this is what I get. Eight possible rituals, more if whatever she has in her hand isn’t significant.”

“Whoa, and I’m still working from paper files.”

“Paige kludged together an app and hacked it into the proprietary software.”

“Whatever that means ...”

“No idea. To me it means we have database access on the road. Of course, I could just walk twenty feet and pull this up on a computer, but that wouldn’t be nearly as impressive. Would you like the list texted to you, e-mailed, or sent to our printer?”

“Okay, now you’re just showing off. Text it.” He handed me a card with his cell number and I punched it in.

“So I’m guessing this is what you need from us—you supply the details and we’ll access our resources to figure out which ritual you’re dealing with. If we’re lucky, what she has in her hand will answer all our questions. Well, except whodunit. That’s your job.”

“See, now this is why I asked to talk to Lucas,” he said. “If I showed him this, he’d be all, ‘Hmm, this bears investigation. I take it you’re on the case?’ And I’d be, like, ‘Well, I will be, right after I finish a job.’ Then he’d ask if I minded if he looked into it himself and say he’d hate to take a job from me and I’d joke that it’s not a paying one anyway and if he wants to take a look ...”

“So you actually brought this to us hoping we’d investigate it for you?”

His cheeks colored. “Shit. Could you just channel Lucas for a minute? Please? Make me feel like a generous colleague?”

“If you were truly generous, you’d be passing us a paying case. Being the accountant for this place, I’m all about the bills.”

As I picked up the photos, my heart beat a little faster. I could take this case. My first solo investigation. I’d been asking for one since I turned eighteen. By the time I reached twenty, I realized I had to stop bugging and start working my ass off to prove I could handle it.

I had a hell of a reputation to overcome, though. I’d made more mistakes as a teen than most people do in a lifetime. Paige and Lucas knew that better than anyone. They weren’t just my bosses—they’d been my guardians. I’d been twelve when my mother died, and Paige had taken me in, and she’d gone through hell because of it.

So I didn’t blame them for only letting me assist in investigations. Here, though, was a case I could handle, working under the supervision of a guy Lucas trusted.

So I said, as casually as I could, “My schedule is clear this week. I’ll look into it.”

Jesse looked over. Sizing me up. I knew that and I could feel my hackles rising, but I kept my mouth shut because I’ve come to understand that I can’t blame people for underestimating me. Twenty-one might feel terribly grown up to me, but to others I’m still a kid, and insisting I can handle it would sound defensive, not mature.

“Lucas says you’ve been doing some investigative work,” he finally said.

“I’ve been part of the team since we opened. I’ve done research and legwork for the past five years. I’ve assisted on investigations for three. I’d even done a few small local ones myself. Yes, triple homicide isn’t small, but you’re looking for someone to do some legwork, presumably under your supervision.”

He nodded. “If you can help me, I’d appreciate that. Normally, I’d suggest you run it past Lucas and Paige but ...”

“Under the circumstances, they’re better off not worrying about me. I’ll tell Adam.”