Asa wasn’t the only one who got protective of his teammates. “What does that make you?”
“The opposite?” He ruffled his short hair. “I heard you ask about the fourth girl.”
Most everyone here came with supernatural hearing, so it came as no surprise they were listening in.
Still annoyed for the slight to Asa, I stared a hole through the warg. “And?”
“Her remains were found in a meat processing plant down the road.” He swallowed hard. “Ma’am.”
“That’s not part of his ritual.” I would have remembered that gory detail. “This is the first time.”
And the killer was male, that much I could tell from his magical signature.
“This is a heavily hunted area,” Kidd ventured. “A hunter might have just taken a statue.”
“They’re not statues.” I smoothed the bite in my voice. “They’re victims. Not lawn art.”
“Cut him some slack.” Clay’s wide hands landed on my shoulders. “He’s still learning to cope.”
Humor did it for some people. Dissociation worked for others. This guy had chosen door number two.
As young as he looked, he had been with Black Hat longer than Asa’s seven years to not be the newbie.
“If you figure it out,” I told Kidd, “you let me know.”
The agent, braver with Clay present, spilled the rest of the details.
“The owner came in to work this morning and found a mound of ground meat left half in the grinder. He was pissed off thinking his son got drunk and went hunting with his ‘crazy ass wife.’ But when he started cleaning up the mess, he noticed bone showing through. He went to scoop it in the trash and ended up palming a human skull packed in ground meat like one of those giant burgers with melting cheese centers.”
“The killer involved humans.” A story like that would grow legs. “That explains the number of agents.”
The director wanted this killer stopped before he made a public exhibition of his art.
“He’s escalating,” Clay agreed. “The director won’t let this stand.”
“He consumes their souls.” Asa watched water run over his boots. “Do you think he’s eating their flesh too?”
“I doubt it.” I studied the deer again. “There’s no artistry in how those remains were found.”
Steaks cut with the precision of a master butcher then wrapped in paper and tied with twine. I could see that. Neat stacks in the fridge, fresh and ready for pickup, a name in bold, black marker. That fit the theme too.
With a slap on the back, Clay sent the agent away. “Black witches don’t practice both disciplines, right?”
“You’re either cridhe or anam.” A heart eater or a soul eater. “Eat the heart at its freshest and most powerful, and the soul ascends before you contain it. Consume the entire soul, and the heart is cold when you’re done. Most, if not all, of its magic has dissipated by then.” Aware it cast a spotlight on me, I told them the rest. “That’s not to say a witch can’t supplement his or her diet for a power boost outside their norm. Some do, some don’t. Some flip back and forth, like vegetarians to veganism.”
“I never thought I would hear eating hearts compared to eating hearts of romaine.”
Knowledge of the black arts was a reason, not the reason, I had been hunted down and bribed to return. I had an inkling of what the other or others might be, but I had a contract to protect me from the worst of my suspicions.
“The processor was for show,” I decided. “A human skull, right? The fourth girl wasn’t transformed.”
“We won’t know until we receive the autopsy results.” Asa lifted his head. “Dr. Lennon has to determine if the remains were fae, then crosscheck the skull DNA against the ground meat. If it’s a match, she has to run tests to compare those results with the samples we have on file for the fourth girl.”
“This part of the job hasn’t changed while I was away, huh? It’s waiting, waiting, and more waiting.”
“The results come quicker now.” Clay chided my impatience. “There have been several breakthroughs in the last ten years on the magic side that allows faster processing and guarantees more accurate results.”
“I look forward to being amazed.”