“I’m not even going to comment about where I have snow,” he said.
Grigori led us through the room and down a short hallway lined with offices. Crime scene tape cordoned the rooms off, but from what I could see, all were empty. Whoever used this place had either removed all traces of their business here, or they’d only used a small portion of the space.
At the end of the hallway, someone had propped open double doors that led into a large open room. When I caught my first glimpse inside, I was … unimpressed. Some crates lined the walls as well as what looked like several wooden two-by-fours. But other than that, the place was stripped bare.
Reluctantly I walked further into the room. My eyes gravitated to a series of smudged markings on the ground. I pushed past some of the officers standing near them and crouched.
I knew enough about the supernatural world to know what the rubbed out chalk had been used for. “A summoning circle,” I said softly.
Some of the markings crisscrossed through the middle of the circle. The original lines were too destroyed to recreate the original drawing, but it didn’t take much imagination to hazard a guess.
A pentagram.
“Have any idea why our suspects might cast a circle?” Grigori asked.
I thought back to Samhain. During that period of time, I’d seen a circle closed twice, once to communicate with the dead—which ended in a possession—and the other time to seal me inside a ley line with the devil. Needless to say, I wasn’t a fan of summoning circles.
I pushed myself back up, and faced Grigori. “They wanted to either keep something out, or keep something in.”
Something like a demon. Or the devil.
Oliver jumped up from the lobby’s couch, where he’d been trolling the Internet. “How could you leave me trapped in this shithole?”
“Shhh,” I hissed, shooting a glance at the innkeeper who was on the phone at the moment. “Can you not be rude for five seconds?”
Even after Caleb and I had been dropped back off at the hotel that evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about our newest lead. A warehouse empty save for a few crates and a smudged out summoning circle.
What dark rites had it been used for? Contacting the dead? Or something darker? And why? The plot was thickening.
“I wanted to go shopping today,” Oliver said, “but no, Romania decided to throw a hissy and strand my ass here. And you were gone. Where have you been? And why can’t I come along?”
I folded my arms over chest. “Want a little cheese with that whine?”
Oliver narrowed his eyes at me. “Do you know how much time I’ve had on my hands?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Enough to paint my nails and detail each one.” He lifted his hands, and sure enough on each finger was a different Christmas design. One had a Christmas tree, another a snowman, and another a Santa hat.
“Hey,” I said, grabbing his hand, “you’re actually pretty good at that.”
Oliver snatched his hand away. “Of course I am.” He sniffed. “That’s what happens when you have several hours on your hands. “Oh, also, I looked at your notes,” he said, checking out his nails, “and I’m pretty sure one of your murder suspects is a cambion.”
I stared at Oliver while his words sunk in. Why was I surprised? He’d figured out that demons were killing people during the Samhain murders, he just hadn’t thought to share it. Fairies.
“A cambion,” I repeated.
“Mmm-hmmm,” he said, turning his attention back to his computer.
I leaned over the couch and snatched his computer from him.
“Hey—”
I began walking down the hall to my room, knowing he’d follow now that I had his laptop. It was leverage for his help. That, and what I was about to say.
I threw him a glance over my shoulder. “I promise to go shopping with you if you tell me everything you know about cambions.”
“During this trip?” Oliver asked hopefully, peeking over the couch.
“Once the investigation is over, you can pick the date.” Why did I feel like I was signing my soul away by agreeing to this?
Oliver weighed this information. “I’ll only agree to it if you actually buy clothes,” he said.
“Fine.”
“And I get to pick them out.”
“Oliver …” This was going from bad to worse.
“And you have to wear them.”
I ground my teeth together. “You know,” I said, “I bet your bargains would give the devil a run for his money.”
Oliver folded his arms and stared me down. “Damn straight they would.”
I shifted my weight, throwing a longing glance at the door to my room. At this point, I’d do just about anything to solve this investigation and get back to the Isle of Man. “Fine, I agree to your hellish demands. Now, will you help me?”
“I suppose,” Oliver said, acting like he was all put out when I knew better. He was a big ham when it came to attention. “Just know that I’m doing this for you, not the lame-ass institution you work for.”
Did everyone and their mother hate the Politia?
“Awesome,” I said, barely containing a massive eye roll. “Let me just grab Caleb.” I trotted over to Caleb’s room and knocked on his door. When it opened, I nearly dropped Oliver’s computer.
It was the middle of the day and yet Andre stood in front of me.
Chapter 14
“What the h-hell?” I stuttered.
Andre glanced down at himself. “I’m pretty convincing, aren’t I?” he said.
More like terrifying beyond belief. It was Andre’s body, Andre’s voice, but it wasn’t Andre’s soul that resided beneath his skin.
I socked Caleb in the arm. “Knock it off. I cannot even express just how creepy that is.”
Caleb laughed, as though this were all one big joke.
“I’m serious,” I said softly. I was picking up Andre’s quiet menace.
Caleb-as-Andre grinned. It was such a Caleb mannerism, his mouth lifting more on one side than the other, that it made Andre look like a crude parody of himself. “Sorry,” he said, his tone suggesting he felt otherwise.