Black Wings, Gray Skies (Black Hat Bureau 4)

“That means the spell has a limited scope, right?”

“Anyone who comes chasing a whisper of a news story will forget why they were here after they set foot on magicked ground.” I smoothed my palm over the Battery, searching for any lingering power. “As time goes on, this type of effect fades on its own. With an island? I estimate it’ll be gone in a matter of days.”

“But you don’t think cleaners did this.”

“No.” I couldn’t shake the feeling. “I don’t.”

We reached the alcove flagged in the report. There sat a chained-off cannon, mid-restoration, but the earth beneath it held no signs of the bloody mess that had sent the vacationing family into a tizzy.

After identifying the exact spot using crime scene photos, I crouched to place my hand on the bare earth.

“This much the cleaners did do.” I dug my fingers into the soil. “The area has been magically bleached.”

There were no clues left to discover, no magic trail to follow, no evidence to link the leg to this place.

“The spell on the island’s not strong enough to influence paranormals,” Asa ventured. “We’re a diverse sampling, and we’re unaffected.”

“No one on board acted right either.” Clay swept out a hand. “For them, this was just another day.”

Meaning whatever influenced them had taken root prior to boarding and lasted the length of the trip.

“The boat wouldn’t hold a spell long enough for it to be worth the effort.” Objects in motion tended to shuck enchantments. A floating object? Total waste of effort. “Patriots Point makes more sense.”

The check-in area kept people queued while waiting for their boat to arrive. It was an ideal setup to hold everyone steady while subtle magic wiggled into their minds that would be reinforced at the fort.

“The ranger on the dock initiated a confrontation,” I reminded them. “Where does he fit?”

“Good question.” Clay mulled it over. “The teacher wasn’t as confrontational, but still.”

“She also hasn’t left the boat,” Asa pointed out. “We should head back early, check on her again.”

“She must be para to be unaffected.” I tried not to leap to my next conclusion, but I already had a spring in my step. “That doesn’t mean she’s our dark arts practitioner. She might simply be a para who works in a human field. Same for the ranger.” I explored the alcove for any hidey-holes. “She might have confided in me because she sensed my otherness. It must have freaked her out, no one talking about Andreas. So, she tested me.”

Done with my inspection, I dusted off my pants as I stood and headed toward the dock.

“Or—” Asa resumed his earlier speculation, “—she’s a killer returning to the scene of the crime who got spooked when she bumped into you because you passed her test. You knew about Andreas.”

“Kidnapping human children is begging to get noticed.” Clay kept pace with me. “If that’s what the perp wants, they won’t be happy their crimes are being swept under the rug. They’ll escalate until they get the recognition they crave.”

Frantic shouts drew my attention to the waiting boat where a man leaned over the edge to vomit.

“She’s dead,” he called to another deckhand on shore. “She’s…really dead.”

He emptied his stomach over the side again then slumped into a chair.

Human ears wouldn’t have picked up their conversation, but if I heard it, then Asa and Clay had too.

We wove through the other passengers to reach the dock but found a ranger blocking the gangway with his broad shoulders. His posture struck me as military, and his expression dared us all to try his patience.

Unease crawled through me when I noticed he wasn’t the man who pulled us aside for a chat. Several of the rangers were on duty, but I would have expected them to all come running after the scream. Unless, maybe, he ducked into the Battery and missed the commotion.

Around us, the crowd gathered, everyone concerned or curious, most having no idea what was wrong.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the ranger announced, his voice low and rough. “We must ask you for your patience. The boat has experienced a mechanical issue and will be unable to bring you back to shore.” His white-knuckled grip cinched around the railing. “That gives you thirty bonus minutes to tour the fort.”

The guy was a pro, I would give him that. He kept his composure, and the people listened to him, but his competence left us with the thorny issue of how to get on the boat before the human police arrived and muddied the investigative waters.

Time to get ahead of this story before it gained legs.