Black Wings, Gray Skies (Black Hat Bureau 4)

That was putting it mildly. “What are you?”

“A boo hag.” She rose, and her skin did that slinky thing again. “Ever hear of us, black witch?”

“No.” I reflected on the witch-adjacent lore I had learned but came up empty. “What’s a boo hag?”

“A creature of meat and bone and blood and magic.” She began to pace, careful to keep a safe distance. “We prey on those who meet our gaze in the shadows, though we kill few. For most of us, it’s enough to steal breath from our prey while they sleep. They wake up tired, we go to bed full. It’s a win/win.”

“Mmm-hmm.” I doubted their victims saw it that way. “But this rogue has other ideas.”

“There are rules, and rules must be followed.”

“That’s what I hear, but I wouldn’t have a job if that were true. What are we talking about here?”

“If the person wakes, we must kill them to protect our secret.”

“None of the victims that brought us here were sleeping.”

They had been wide awake, enjoying the outdoors with their families, which lent weight to the idea the killer had been posing as a child to lure them in.

“Everyone’s got to sleep sometime, darlin’.”

Paras had elevated the simple loophole to an artform, and this one I should have seen coming. A perfect example was Andreas Farmer. He disappeared at Fort Sumter, and I suspected he had never left. That he was held there, somewhere, then bled out before dawn. Perhaps the killer waited until he succumbed to fearful exhaustion first. But why hold that one rule inviolate while flaunting common sense precautions?

“We both know you do more than kill them.”

“Not always.” She laughed. “Only sometimes.” She flicked her paw. “Mostly for special occasions.”

“After you peel off the wrapper and suck out the filling, what happens to the rest of the candy bar?”

“There are strong rip currents,” she said conversationally, “if you know where to look.”

“I see.”

“You can’t throw stones, black witch.”

“Of all the evils I’ve done, I’ve never committed a sin against a child. Can your people say the same?”

“It’s taboo, even for us, which is why I decided to lend you a paw with your little investigation.”

History lesson aside, this was sounding more and more like a waste of time. “Can you give us a name?”

“I could, sure, but it won’t help you. We’re not fae. Names hold no power over us.”

Maybe not, but they held last known addresses, previous employment, and criminal records.

“Can you tell us where to find the rogue?”

“What good would I be otherwise?”

When she didn’t share, I pressed her. “Can you tell us how to trap them?”

Boo hags were, as best I could tell, part skin shifter and part black arts practitioner.

That combination could prove deadly without first determining the faction’s weaknesses.

“That ain’t happening.” She scoffed. “I tell you how to trap her, and it’s the same as how to trap me.”

“Okay.” I held back a tidal wave of annoyance. “What can you tell me?”