Part 30 (1/2)
”So, would you find it strange for a foreign national to have visited McCroskey?”
”Depends. But for the most part, yes. I would find that noteworthy.”
Eve nodded and resumed walking, but at a slower, more contemplative pace. ”Edwards said that he's been here before.”
”Any details?”
”Not really, but he did say there were a lot of bugs here. He called the place a 'dump,' I believe. Said it was overgrown and crawling with vermin.”
Reed's brows rose. ”You can't tell that from the public areas.”
”Right. When we first got here, I remember thinking that it wasn't what I expected. It was clean, well maintained. I told Alec I thought the troops probably missed this base.” She glanced at him. ”So how would a Brit know its state of disrepair?”
”A Google search would probably reveal that.”
”But it doesn't explain why he's been here before.”
”Right.”
They turned a corner at the end of the main street and Reed saw the diner up ahead.
”Izzie's been to California before, too,” Eve said. ”And she showed up to training with a gun, against Raguel's orders.”
”Izzie?”
She stared at him. An image of the blonde who'd sucked him off popped into his brain.
”Oh . . .” He winced. ”That didn't look good.”
”No, it didn't.”
Reed quickly changed the subject. ”Are you thinking Edwards is involved in some way?”
”Honestly, I really can't see how he would be involved. I've trained alongside him for three weeks and there's nothing even remotely Infernal-like about him.”
”And remember, the masking agent wears off. At some point or another, an Infernal in your cla.s.s would've reeked.”
”Izzie, though . . . There's something going on with her. I just can't put my finger on it. She gives me the evil eye a lot.”
Reed smiled wryly. ”She's probably jealous. You're smokin' hot. Makes me hard just to smell you.”
”Eww.” Eve smacked him. ”Don't be crude.”
They paused at the end of the alley where Molenaar had been killed. The Mark was long gone. Since he'd been drained of blood before being pinned to the wall, there was very little left behind to proclaim that a soldier of G.o.d had died here. A couple of holes in the wall, that's it. Two men and two women occupied the narrow s.p.a.ce. Two in black-Raguel's guards-and two in navy blue jumpsuits with the initials E.P.D. on the back-the investigators from the Exceptional Projects Department.
A female guard caught sight of him first. ”Abel.”
”Draw any conclusions?” he asked, leading Eve closer with a hand at her back. The nearest investigator glanced up. He had a lanky frame, gray hair, and intelligent green eyes. ”We're still collecting evidence, but the jaggedness of the wound edges suggests that the head was severed with a physically wielded blade.”
”Because magic would have left a clean slice, like a laser, right?” Eve asked.
”Right. There are also contusions on the wrists and ankles. Our attacker was hands-on with this killing. But preliminary tests show no signs of Infernal blood. Usually in knife attacks, the a.s.sailants injure themselves. The hilt becomes slippery with blood and their grip slips.”
Reed smiled, remembering Eve saying something similar earlier.
”How do you test for Infernal blood?” Eve queried.
”By spritzing the area with holy water. Even the smallest trace will sizzle and steam. It doesn't have the wow factor of luminol,” he said dryly, ”but it works the same.”
”I have a question,” she said. ”When we first discovered the masking agent, we learned that it was Charles's in-laws-a mage and a witch-who had cast the spell that helped create the Infernal mask. Hank said it was the combination of mage and witch, male and female that allowed the mask to work on all Infernals, regardless of cla.s.sification or s.e.x.”
”Right.”
She pointed at Reed. ”He killed the mage, but we never found the witch. Could she have found a new partner, someone who could alter the spell sufficiently to make it longer lasting?”
The investigator scratched his head. ”Doubtful. I think it's more likely that the intimate relations.h.i.+p between the original pairing made the spell potent to begin with. Unless she's fallen madly in love with another mage or wizard, any other combination would lack that edge.”
”I agree.”
The voice came from behind Reed, forcing him to turn his head to see who was speaking. Hovering at eye level was a tiny blonde pixie in a minuscule green dress. Bernard. In a Tinker Bell glamour. Reed scowled.
Eve leaned forward to look around him. ”Hi, Bernard.”
”Hey, toots. What a day, eh?”
”Has it only been a day?” she asked, weariness evident in her tone. ”Seems like an eternity.”
”Let's take a closer look,” Reed said, dismissing the Infernal.
She shook her head. ”No, thanks. I saw enough earlier. I'll just hang out here with Bernard.”
”I thought the whole point of coming to Anytown was to check things out.”
”I wanted to guesstimate the time it would take to get from the video store-where Claire last saw Molenaar -to here. When you're done, we'll walk the various routes and see if we can get an average timeline.”
”We'd appreciate it,” the investigator said. ”When we were called out here, it was for one scene, not two. We're understaffed.”
Reed looked at Eve. ”Give me a second, then we'll go.”
She winked at him, a playful gesture that rocked him back on his heels. She took hits, but kept on trucking. That trait made him admire her, and that admiration was leading them both into dangerous territory. Especially now that Cain had apparently stepped aside.
He'd traversed half the distance between Eve and the murder site when his cell phone vibrated. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID.
Unavailable.
He turned the power off and shoved it back into his pocket.
Prolonged exposure to darkness destroyed minds. Prisoners who were sent to ”the hole” in prisons usually emerged disoriented and senseless. Even He Who Inflicts Punishment on the World and the Luminaries felt claustrophobic dementia flirting with the edges of his mind, and he had only been in the belly of the beast for a few hours at most. But then a prison ”hole” would be preferable to the gore he was presently stewing in.
If he was forced to fight now, Raguel would be at an undeniable disadvantage. He'd been cramped into the fetal position for hours, coc.o.o.ned in his wings to protect his flesh from acid, lacking water and sitting in a waist-deep pool of Mark blood. The beast purred and cavorted gaily, inundating him with noise and nauseating jostling. Raguel definitely wasn't at the top of his game, and that would worsen the more time pa.s.sed.