13
The address wasn’t hard to find. There was a mailbox and everything. That led me to trust Clay was right about his hunch we would find some form of troll-friendly accommodations on the property. Where, we had no idea. And the farther we trekked, the deeper into the killer’s territory we roamed. If he was using this property to hold his victims, he would know the area well. He could be watching us from higher ground right now, which blasted chills down my arms.
Up to this point, I had felt relatively safe with Asa and Clay for backup, given my diminished state.
But hunting this killer in his habitat? Without my mantle of power, I was afraid. For us all.
“We can’t afford to waste much more time.” Clay broke the silence of the past hour with what we must all be thinking. “Assuming the killer came here after we visited him, he could have taken what he needed and bolted last night.”
“We don’t know what time he left the trailer,” Asa agreed. “He could be long gone by now.”
“Okay.” I was already outvoted. “Let’s call in the other…”
A familiar scent hit my nose as a strong wind kicked up in the trees.
“Diesel.” Clay picked it up too. “Do you hear a motor?”
The same fuel the killer used to douse his trail to and from his kill sites.
Birdlike, Asa cocked his head. “A generator.”
A predatory smile curved my lips as the hunt sang in my blood, louder and louder, deafening my fears.
The burnt crimson smoldering in Asa’s eyes called to me, like to like, and he growled low in his throat.
“I’ll lead.” Clay was used to playing muscle. “Rue, you’re the middle. Ace, you bring up the rear.”
From what I had gleaned, Asa might prove the superior tracker, but Clay was unkillable. He could be hurt or put out of commission, but if you knew what you were doing, he always came back. Not that it meant I enjoyed him taking one for the team. I didn’t. One peek at Asa told me he wasn’t a fan either.
But we all had our roles to play, and Clay’s had always been as my shield.
The steady purr of the generator led us to the remains of a cabin nature had done its best to reclaim. An orange power cord stretched from the generator through a broken window, giving us the only indication the decrepit structure was habitable.
We saw no sign of the occupant, who may or may not have given up his masque for his true face, but he had gone through the trouble of leaving a steady noise to provide cover for his movements. It worked as much for us as it did against us. The generator might be a decoy he left running after he spent the night out here.
If that was the case, I doubt he intended to come back. Why waste precious resources otherwise?
“No matter how I look at this,” I told the guys softly, “he anticipated a visit from us today.”
The crime scenes were too fastidious for me to believe he was careless in any regard.
“Who wants to go in?” Clay didn’t wait for an answer, he volunteered himself. “Ace, watch her back.”
As the mostly indestructible one, Clay ducked into the cabin and was absorbed by its shadows.
“I don’t like this,” I murmured. “It feels like my skin wants to crawl off my bones.”
I identified it as an amplified version of the sensation that convinced me Olsen was worth a second look.
Black magic might not smell rank to me, but maybe I had switched the balance within myself enough for its presence to register as danger in my subconscious. Handy if I could hone it into conscious awareness.
Five minutes passed with no sign of Clay. Asa and I made the wordless decision to investigate. Together.
Using my wand as an atmospheric measuring stick, I tapped it once against a random log then gritted my teeth against the feedback. Negative energy permeated the building from the foundation to the roof. An almost foul breath of air expelled when we reached the threshold, and I braced as a dark figure loomed.
“Don’t shoot.” Clay held up both his hands. “It’s just me.”
“No offense.” I pricked my finger, murmured a spell, and wiped the blood on his arm. “It’s him.”