“Tam, can you get over here. I think Hol y’s been spel ed.”
Tamara lived only a few streets away—almost al the practicing witches in Nekros lived in the Glen—so her car rol ed into the driveway less than fifteen minutes later. By then, Caleb had run a ful diagnostic on the house wards and traced al the magical signatures. Hol y had been the one who disabled the wards, and no one had entered the house and no unfamiliar magic had brushed the wards before she’d taken them down.
I’d paced around the living room until Hol y complained I’d paced around the living room until Hol y complained that I was making her dizzy. Then I set about gathering the spel ed disks, a task complicated by the fact that I’d released my grave-sight and deep shadows clung everywhere despite al the lights that I’d turned on in the house. Falin had disappeared by the time I got off the phone with Tamara. Hol y said he’d asked for a first-aid kit and retreated to my loft. I didn’t want to leave Hol y and Caleb, so I hoped he’d be okay on his own. I planned to check on him soon.
Tamara’s loud knock sounded just as I shoved the broom under the couch, searching for any disks that had rol ed away. Hol y and Caleb jumped to their feet, rushing for the door. I started to rise, but the broom hit something larger than a spel ed disk. I swished the broom to the side, knocking the object out from under the couch. Then I yelped, jumping back.
Caleb and Hol y whirled around at the sound, and Tamara stopped, her foot hanging in the air where she’d been stepping through the open doorway. My heart crashed hard as I stared at the raven I’d exposed. I lifted my broom like a basebal bat, but the raven only lay in a crumpled heap. It was the one Caleb had doused with the spel , and its chest lifted in slow, labored breaths, but it was otherwise stil .
“Oh, eew,” Hol y said, and then she ran into the kitchen.
She emerged a moment later with the large strainer Caleb had used for last night’s spaghetti. She tossed it over the bird and then piled magazines from the coffee table on top to weigh the strainer down. “There.”
“What is going on?” Tamara asked, her eyes taking in the chaos.
Caleb and I had both frozen at the sight of the raven, and even now, with the bird trapped under the strainer, I hadn’t lowered the broom. I took a deep breath and pried my fingers off the wooden handle. Then I sagged into the closest chair, feeling as if my bones had melted into closest chair, feeling as if my bones had melted into something not completely solid.
Caleb and I fil ed Tamara in on the happenings of the night, not taking turns so much as interrupting each other.
Hol y joined in once we got to the end and related how we’d found her on the lawn. After we’d finished, silence fil ed the room.
“Have you cal ed the police?” Tamara asked after several minutes had passed.
Caleb shook his head. “I don’t know that we should get them involved.”
“I think we have to,” Hol y said, hugging her knees to her chest. She’d added a pair of shorts to her outfit, but with the oversized shirt draping her petite frame, she looked more like a frightened child than a confident prosecutor.
Caleb often said three was the perfect number for a group—there were never ties in a decision. Since I was the final roommate, everyone turned to me. To call the police or not? I dodged. “What can you tel me about the spel on Hol y?” And Caleb—the ravens had scored a deep gash on his forearm and raked his knuckles. If al it took was one scratch for the spel to transfer, he’d definitely caught it.
Tamara pursed her lips and motioned for Hol y to sit on the couch.
Hol y settled herself on the cushion farthest from the trapped raven—we were al giving the strainer a wide berth
—and Tamara sat on the coffee table, directly across from Hol y.
“May I?” Tamara pointed to the col ar of Hol y’s shirt.
Hol y shrugged. “I’l take it off.” She turned her back to us and pul ed the shirt over her head. She pressed the material over her breasts before turning back.
Yesterday the cu sith’s scratch had looked like Hol y had been clawed by a tiger, but today the jagged tears stretching from her col arbone to the top of her opposite breast were thinner, the skin pink and healing quickly from some of the best healing spel s money could buy. The ring some of the best healing spel s money could buy. The ring of teeth marks on her shoulder was a little worse, the scabs stil thick and angry-looking, but by al accounts, healing in remarkable time.
I’d scanned them with my ability to sense magic already and I’d felt a tickle of magic that seemed more like a memory of a spel than anything active or malicious. Now I cracked my shields again, peering through the bril iant swirls of the Aetheric to focus on Hol y’s exposed wounds.
When I squinted, I thought I caught a tinge of gray behind the healing skin. Maybe.