I would definitely summon tomorrow night. There were a number of demons who could probably help me. Perhaps Rysehl? He was just a fourth-level demon, a luhrek, resembling a cross between a goat and a dog with the hindquarters of a lion. He was also a much weaker demon than Kehlirik, which meant that he would be considerably easier to summon. But Rysehl was usually a very cooperative creature and a good resource for esoteric information, despite being merely a luhrek. I could think of several questions to ask him about the kinds of arcane activities that could leave those types of traces on a body.
I pushed off the building. Screw Crawford, I thought. I am the best detective for this case, and I’m gonna prove it.
THE DEAD BOLT ON THE FRONT DOOR SLID HOME WITH a soft click, the last step in my preparations for the summoning.
I’d nearly changed my mind about going through with it. After leaving the wastewater plant, I’d gone to the station for several hours to do preliminary legwork and write up my initial report, but by early afternoon I could hardly keep my eyes open—not that surprising once I realized I was operating on zero sleep.
I’d finally given up on coherent thought and headed home to grab a nap, staying awake on the drive home only by keeping the window open and singing along loudly to bad country music. By the time I’d crawled into my bed, I was seriously doubting my ability to summon again, even a minor demon. But six hours of sleeping like the dead did wonders for my energy level, and by midnight I felt ready to go.
I wandered through my house, the usual excitement twining with the usual nerves as I made certain that the house was secure. All of the various mundane tasks were complete. I’d closed the gate at the end of my driveway, checked and secured all the windows—which included nailing several boards over the broken window—then locked all the doors, double-checking everything compulsively. I’d learned the hard way last night that a locked door wouldn’t do much to keep an intruder out, so for tonight I’d added just a tweak of power around my house.
Arcane work could be pretty tiring, which was why I seldom did much outside of summonings. But, after last night’s near disaster, I had to grudgingly admit that I needed to expend the energy. I wasn’t exactly highly skilled at crafting arcane wardings, which meant that it took me nearly an hour to pull together a small protection that would cause anyone approaching the house to experience feelings ranging from mild fear to terror—an arcane version of a subsonic frequency, and hopefully just enough to make a person think twice about trying to get inside.
The house was still spotless from top to bottom from the deep scouring I’d given it before my summoning of the reyza. I wasn’t in the regular habit of keeping my house in pristine condition, but the messes and piles of clutter could harbor unwelcome pockets of energy, or so my aunt Tessa always said—though I suspected that was probably just a way for her to get me to clean the place up at least once a month. It was tough to motivate myself to tame the clutter, since I didn’t exactly encourage visitors. I kept it clean—after all, this was the South, and I’d be neck deep in bugs if I didn’t—but my dirty laundry usually ended up on the floor, and my bed got made only once a week when I changed the sheets.
I owned just over ten acres out here, and most of it remained woods. My house was smack in the middle of the property, with only about a hundred-foot radius around the structure cleared of thick forest and underbrush, though there were still plenty of trees around the house to shade it beautifully all year long. The house itself was a single-story Acadian with a steeply pitched roof, high ceilings, and a broad porch that extended across the entire front. The high ceilings also made it hard as shit to heat in the winter, but I had long ago accepted that electric blankets were made for just that reason. Besides, in south Louisiana it didn’t get all that cold. The house was close to one hundred years old, with walls and ceilings that had been made with precise tongue-and-groove construction. The exterior was supposed to be a dusky blue, but it was also unfortunately in dire need of a new paint job and had a rather mottled appearance where the white of the old paint showed through.