While Lukas goes to invade the witnesses’ privacy, I wander closer to the actual crime scene, curiosity pulling me in. The remnants of whatever ritual took place here are scattered across the grass, half melted candles, strange symbols drawn into the dirt, bundles of herbs that look like they were arranged with purpose. And, of course, the skull. A human skull. I suppress a shiver, trying to ignore how unnerving it is to see one just sitting out in the open. Before I can step any closer, Eli grabs my arm, stopping me in my tracks.
“I know I invited you here, but this is still a crime scene. I can’t let you just wander through it.” He says, his voice gentle but firm. His grip on my arm isn’t tight, more like a friendly reminder. He pairs it with one of those ridiculously charming half smiles, as if that will somehow make me more inclined to behave… And it totally would. I can see why part of his job is keeping the humans cooperative at scenes like this. He doesn’t even need to use magic to make me want to listen to him.
“Oh, sorry, Eli.” I say quickly.
“I just wanted to see if I could feel anything magical. It’s not exactly my specialty, but I might be able to tell if any real magic was used here.” I explain. Eli blinks, clearly intrigued.
“You can do that?” He lets go of my arm and studies me with interest.
“Well, why didn’t you say so? I can’t just let you go waltzing in, but I can escort you myself. Just… Try not to touch anything, alright?” His usual teasing tone is still there, but there’s a thread of seriousness beneath it that tells me he’s actually trusting me with something here.
“Sure. No touching.” I promise. With that, Eli lifts the tape for me, and I step carefully inside the perimeter. The second I cross the threshold, a chill runs up my spine. The air feels… Wrong. Not necessarily in a hostile way, but like something unnatural lingers here, something that shouldn’t be in a place as ordinary as a park. I close my eyes for a second, focusing on the sensation. Magic has a feel to it, an energy that changes depending on the type being used. The elemental magic I grew up around was always sharp and vibrant, like crackling electricity or rushing water. This, though… This is different. It’s heavier, slower. Like something extra is lingering that shouldn’t be here. I don’t recognise the feeling, which pretty much tells me it has to be necromancy. I mean, I pretty much knew it before, but now I’m all but certain. Opening my eyes, I glance down at the symbols scrawled into the dirt. Some of them seem hastily drawn, others more precise. There’s an order to them, but I don’t know enough about necromantic rituals to understand what they mean. The candles are melted down almost entirely, their wax dripped onto the ground in irregular pools. Some of the herbs have been burned, and I catch the faintest trace of a spicy scent in the air.
“There’s magic here.” I say finally, glancing at Eli.
“But I don’t recognize the type.” I say apologetically. It’s not a lie. Not technically. I don’t recognise it, at least not in the way I recognise the magic I’ve been around my whole life. My belief that it’s necromancy is still technically just a guess. Eli studies my expression for a moment, as if trying to determine how much I’m actually telling him.
“Huh, guess that confirms this wasn’t just some bored kids messing around.” He mutters, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.
“Yeah.” I murmur, though my thoughts are already elsewhere. I glance over at Lukas, who’s still talking to the witnesses, his posture stiff, his focus completely locked in. I wonder what he’s seeing, what he’s pulling from their minds. For a moment, I consider telling Eli more. About what we know, about what we suspect. It wouldn’t be the worst idea. He’s clearly in this deeper than just some random cop doing his job. And if things keep escalating the way they have been, we will almost definitely need his help. But I hesitate. It’s not just my decision. It’s Lukas’s too. And I already know he doesn’t trust Eli, although honestly I’m not sure if his distrust is genuine or an act. Still… For now, I’ll keep my mouth shut.
Lukas suddenly grips my arm and yanks me forward, practically dragging me as he breaks into a near sprint. I didn’t even see him approaching.
“We need to go. Now!” His voice is sharp, urgent, unlike anything I’ve ever heard from him before. I stumble, barely managing to keep up as he powers forward, his grip on my wrist firm but not painful. Roxy falls into step beside us, ears pricked, sensing the tension. I have no idea what’s happening, but I do know Lukas well enough by now to recognize real panic when I see it. Eli is calling after us, but I ignore him, focusing on Lukas. I can call and apologise later.
“Lukas! Slow down!” I gasp, my heart hammering from both exertion and growing anxiety. “Where the hell are we going in such a hurry?” I demand. We reach the street, and Lukas skids to a stop, scanning our surroundings like he’s searching for something, or someone. His breathing is heavy, his eyes darting wildly, and I can see the way his shoulders are locked with tension.
“In the woman’s mind, I saw the necromancer.” He says, his voice low but strained. My eyes widen.
“What?” I ask. I don’t know if I’m excited or terrified. Lukas looks like he might be sick.
“He’s young, Clare. Practically a kid.” Lukas’s jaw tightens, he looks totally horrified.
“And I, I thought I saw him when we drove past earlier. He could still be nearby.” He explains. My head is spinning, trying to process this. We’ve been chasing shadows for days, trying to put together scattered pieces of this mystery, and now, he just happens to spot the necromancer? Can it really be so easy? And he’s young? I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. Lukas suddenly stiffens beside me, his fingers tightening around my wrist.
“There! I think that’s him.” He lifts his chin toward a small figure down the street, just beyond the edge of the park. I follow his gaze, my breath catching when I see him. The kid can’t be older than sixteen, maybe seventeen at most. He’s slight, almost fragile looking, with pale skin and deep shadows under his eyes, like he hasn’t seen a good night’s sleep in months. His blonde hair is unkempt, messy in a way that makes me think of someone who doesn’t have the time or the energy to care about his appearance. His clothes are slightly too big, like they were borrowed or stolen, and everything about him just screams exhaustion. This is the necromancer? The one who’s been tied to everything happening, the morgue, the missing bodies, the connection to Solem? The one who raised Lukas’s father? He looks like he needs a meal and a few nights rest, not an interrogation. Then, as if he can feel us staring, the boy glances up and his tired blue-grey eyes lock with Lukas’s. For a split second, the whole world seems to freeze. Then, without hesitation, the boy runs.
“Shit.” Lukas barely mutters the word before he’s already moving.