The room went utterly silent, as if everyone present had drawn in a breath and then held it. Even Roy’s constant whispered prattling paused. All eyes stared at the placid shade.
If I’d been asked to make a list of the top one hundred possible explanations for what happened to these kids, going from most to least likely scenarios, “a clown crawled out of the TV” wouldn’t have made said list. I blinked at the shade. It couldn’t lie. I knew that. It could only repeat what he had seen or thought while alive.
“A clown?” I asked, hearing the uncertainty in my own voice. “Bruce, did you take any drugs recently?”
Okay, I should have waited for John to ask that, but it was too obvious a question to not follow up “a clown crawled out of the TV” with drugs.
“Yes, and not a clown. The clown,” Bruce clarified, as if that actually helped. “We were watching a movie. I picked a scary one because when Shannon is scared she all but climbs in my lap, and I’d already talked her into her slip so she didn’t wrinkle her dress.” The shade said all this with no shame, and I groaned under my breath for all teenagers everywhere. “We’d just watched the scene where the killer dressed up as a clown at a frat party and started hunting down co-eds. Then he turned and called us out by name. He said he was coming after us next. And he did. He crawled right out of the TV. I thought it was the drugs taking effect at first, until Shannon started screaming and I realized she was seeing the same thing.”
“What drugs did you take?” I already had an idea. I wanted to be wrong but . . .
“A guy was giving out samples in the parking lot outside the dance. He said it was like a magical hit of ecstasy. Everything would feel more intense for a few hours, and he suggested it would really get Shannon in the mood. He called it Glitter.”
Shit. I turned to Jenson, my eyes wide. The detective looked away from me. Actually, from everyone. Had he told anyone about the shades I’d raised for him? I’d thought that was why the FIB was here now, but maybe not. Actually, by his response, I was sure not. Damn. That would make things more difficult.
John opened his little flip notebook, trying to write notes while simultaneously holding the camera steady on the shade. It wasn’t working out well for him, but with him distracted by the task, I couldn’t read from his expression if he was familiar with the drug or not. I looked at Falin.
“Have you heard of Glitter before? Did you guys find any drug paraphernalia?” I knew they hadn’t at Jeremy and Emma’s crime scene, but then, they hadn’t been looking. Whatever Glitter was, it didn’t pop on a drug screen. Not the normal ones the ME usually ran, at least.
Falin’s face gave away nothing. “Some personal items were bagged in the bathroom, but no syringes, pipes, or pills.”
I’ll take that as a no.
“Ask how the drug was ingested,” John said. He’d pressed the notepad against the back of the camera and was writing at a vertical angle. Every move of his pen caused the camera to bob, and I hoped whoever reviewed the footage wasn’t prone to motion sickness.
I repeated his question to the shade.
“We drank it. The drug came in little glass vials. The kind cologne samples sometimes come in.”
I glanced at Falin, who nodded to indicate something that met that description had been bagged as evidence. From the corner of my eye, I saw the two ghosts float toward the bathroom. Roy clearly wasn’t done playing detective for Icelynne yet.
“We need to establish a timeline,” John said, looking up from his notebook.
I nodded and turned to ask the shade to recount the order of events, but froze when Roy burst back out of the bathroom.
“Alex,” he yelled. “Alex, we need you.”
I make it a rule not to talk to people no one else in the room can see. It was easier before my planeweaving went into full gear and I heard ghosts only when I tried. These days I actually had to work at ignoring ghosts. But the pitch to Roy’s voice was equal parts excitement and concern, not the type of thing I should ignore. He’d found something. Or at least he thought he had.
But I couldn’t just stop questioning a shade midritual and mosey to the bathroom. I turned toward him, hoping my expression was enough of a question for him to tell me what he’d found.
“The vials? The ones the shade said the drug was in?” he said, and I nodded for him to continue. “Icelynne recognizes them. She said they are what the alchemist used to store the glamour he stole.”
Chapter 12
I stared at Roy. The killer in Faerie kidnapping fae and draining their blood to distill their glamour was then creating a drug with it that was somehow making it to mortal hands? Why?