Now she appeared to be weighing how much sway it held over my words.
She must have reached some conclusion because after a moment she said, “The ABMU has a charmed disk in evidence. It looks like witch magic. You are aware that fae rarely use complex charms?”
I nodded. By “rarely use” she actual y meant that most I nodded. By “rarely use” she actual y meant that most couldn’t use witch charms. The Aetheric resisted something about the fae nature. When I used my second sight, I could see the magic bend away from their very souls.
“Knowing that,” she said, “you stil insist that the attack was committed by a glamour?”
I faltered. I’d disbelieved the creature, not dispel ed it.
That fact indicated that its form was held together by glamour. But, it was undoubtedly a magic construct. When I didn’t say anything, her gaze moved past me.
“I’m sure I’l see you around, Miss Craft.” She walked away, and I let out a relieved breath.
Relief felt premature as a pair of heels clicked a fastapproaching tempo on the sidewalk behind me.
“Alex Craft, a moment of your time,” said a perky, and far too familiar, voice.
I didn’t turn. Not immediately at least. I recognized the voice: Lusa Duncan, the star reporter of Nekros’s most popular news program, Witch Watch. And if I knew Lusa, there was a camera pointed at me right now. Taking a deep breath, I pasted on my professional smile and prepared myself to face the press.
She pushed her mic at me as soon as I turned. “Word in the Quarter is that the police have cal ed you in to consult on the Sionan floodplain foot murders and that the FIB is now involved. What can you tel us?”
Is that seriously what the news guys are calling the case? Not that it mattered—my answer was the same.
“No comment,” I said. I gave a quick nod to her cameraman, whose name I stil didn’t know, though I’d seen his face often enough over the last few months that I probably should have known his name as wel . Then I tried to duck around Lusa.
Not that she let me.
Lusa was a petite witch—a ful head and shoulders shorter than me, even in her heels—but she was 110
percent ambition and excessively tenacious about fol owing percent ambition and excessively tenacious about fol owing a story. She sidestepped, blocking my path, and shoved her mic at me again.
“What can you tel the people of Nekros about the attack in the Quarter today?”
I sighed. I didn’t want to appear dodgy on the six o’clock news. “Nothing more than anyone else here could tel you.
I’m not sure where the beast came from or why it was on the street. We were lucky it was only a glamour.”
“Yes, lucky. Do you think this was a targeted attack?”
Possibly. It was very possible the kil er was upset that I’d revealed the mound of feet in the floodplain. Tamara was also on the case. She could have been the target. But I wasn’t about to speculate on the news.
Instead I said, “I think we need to wait for the NCPD’s analysis.”
Lusa hurried on to her next question. “What can you tel me about what appears to be Aetheric energy slipping into the street? Witnesses say the . . . tear is in about the same place as where you unraveled the glamour.”
“Maybe something to do with the beast?” I gave her the same line I’d fed Nori, though Lusa seemed to swal ow it as more credible than the FIB agent had. Hitching my purse strap higher on my shoulder, I stepped around Lusa. “If you’l excuse me, I need to check on my friend.”
This time Lusa let me go, and I hurried toward the ambulance idling across the street. Hol y sat in the back of the vehicle, two paramedics hovering over her and Tamara at her side. Hol y’s eyes were stil a little too wide, as if the shock of the attack hadn’t quite passed. A flame of freckles dusted her nose and cheeks, bright against her paler-thannormal skin. She usual y hid the freckles behind a complexion charm, but the medics had taken the charm to avoid possible magical interactions with the healing spel s.
“How’re you feeling?” I asked as I approached.
“They say I won’t even need stitches,” she said, but I could tel her frail smile was held in place by wil alone. “You could tel her frail smile was held in place by wil alone. “You know, I’ve used the expression that I felt like I’d been mauled after particularly bad days in the courtroom. I was wrong—this is worse.”
“Just wait until tomorrow. You’l be stiff and sore too.”
“Gee, thanks, Alex. You always give me something to look forward to.” She shook her head, but her smile looked at least a little less forced.
When the paramedics final y released her, with instructions to rest and watch the bite on her shoulder for signs of infection, Hol y al owed Tamara and me to help her down from the ambulance—which was a testament to how shaky she stil felt.
“You’re not stil planning to make your trial?” Tamara asked as she grabbed Hol y’s purse.