Mark of the Demon

He remained perfectly calm, no doubt all that fed training in action. “Should I? Don’t you think those are strong coincidences?”

 

 

I took three deep, careful breaths, using every speck of control I had developed through my work as a summoner to not fly into a rage or burst into tears. Either was equally possible right now. “I think that you have no idea what you are talking about.” I was pleased to find that my voice was level and calm, even though I was raging inside. “The chances of having two people working the arcane in one area? Well, if you had the slightest damn clue about how the arcane works, you might know that this area happens to lie on a focal point of arcane power, and thus it’s very possible there are quite a few people in the area with arcane connections. And even though summoning is not a common skill, I promise you, I am not the only summoner in the world.” I took another breath, trying not to shake. “For that matter, have you considered that the reason I’m assigned to this case is the same reason you’re assigned to this case? Because we both have sensitivities to the arcane?”

 

He looked at me, then gave a slight shrug. “Of course. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

 

“You were thinking that I was a suspect,” I said flatly.

 

“Can you blame me?” he said, getting to his feet. “Can’t you see the coincidence?”

 

“Yes, I can, and it really is a fucking coincidence. And I can blame you. You don’t know me. I’ve been incredibly forthright with you, considering what and who I am. If I was the killer, why the fuck would I tell you that I thought the killer was a summoner and then tell you that I was a summoner too? You came to my house in the middle of the night completely uninvited, I answered all your questions, and then you accused me of being the Symbol Man. So, yes, I can certainly blame you. If this is your style of investigation, I don’t need your help. And you need to leave.”

 

His eyes narrowed. “Just remember, you don’t have the authority to kick me off the case. The FBI works with you, not under you.”

 

“I have the authority to tell you to get the fuck out of my house, Agent Kristoff!” I said, anger definitely showing in my voice and volume.

 

“Yes, you certainly do, Detective Gillian,” he replied, drawling out my title in insulting fashion. “Since I am here as a guest. This time.” And with that he turned and stalked out of the kitchen and down the hall. A few seconds later I heard the front door open and close heavily, just short of a slam.

 

 

 

 

 

I LEANED BACK AGAINST THE SINK, HEART HAMMERING as I heard the sound of his car engine revving and then gravel crunching. What the fuck just happened? In less than a minute, the conversation had gone from being pleasant and friendly to a shouting match full of accusations. And I had a sick feeling that I knew what “this time” insinuated. If he truly considered me to be a suspect, the next time he visited would be with a search warrant.

 

You were an idiot to trust him! I berated myself. Had any of his manner toward me been real? Or had the whole thing been some kind of game to get me to reveal what I knew?

 

I groaned and scrubbed at my face with both hands. I’d actually been starting to kind of like him. The nice him—Ryan. What a mess.

 

So much for summoning. If there was even the slightest chance that he would return with a search warrant—and I knew all too well that, if he was determined, he would find enough probable cause to get one—I needed to get moving on some serious cleanup and hiding of my implements. There was no way I’d be able to explain away the summoning chamber. I’d be labeled a “satanist” for sure, probably lose my job, and definitely ruin what little standing I had in the community.

 

Muttering expletives under my breath, I went to the door to lock and secure it, peeking out first to make sure that he had really left. I changed out of my robe and into sweats, then hurried down into the basement. There were hiding places that I was fairly confident would pass a mundane search, but there was a chance that Agent Kristoff might be able to see any little arcane “touches” I put out.

 

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