Page 36 of Foul Days

“You have to interrogate that harpy from the Witch’s Cauldron. I’d bet you she’s involved. I saw it in her notebook, she kept trying to get her hands on the shadows—”

“Trust me,” Bakharov said. As if. “We’ll explore every possible avenue. Don’t concern yourself with the investigation. As I said, lie low. Do nothing. We’ll find your shadow.”

“Yes,” Kosara said. “Of course.”

A line appeared between Bakharov’s eyebrows. “I really didn’t expect you to agree so easily.”

“What can I say, I have full faith in the competence of the Belogradean police.”

The line deepened. Perhaps she’d gone too far with that one. “Is that so.…”

“Detective Bakharov!” shouted one of the officers examining the scene. “You have to see this!”

“Excuse me.” Bakharov rushed back into the room. He had to bend to pass under the ladder in front of the door. A copper stood atop it, scraping droplets of dried blood off the ceiling and collecting them in a test tube.

Kosara tried to follow Bakharov, but a police officer the size of a three-door wardrobe blocked her way. She stood on tiptoes to look over his broad shoulders.

“What’s the problem, Lila?” Bakharov asked.

One of the officers held some kind of device towards him. It made a loud beeping noise. Electric light flashed between its two protruding wires.

“The magic interference in this room is off the charts,” Lila said. The device’s light reflected in her eyes. “The detector has been going wild ever since I switched it on, but look, as soon as I get closer to the victim…” A flash of electricity jumped between the wires, hissing.

Kosara squinted, trying to see what the device was pointed to. She made out the symbol she’d seen earlier, Karaivanov’s two crossed K’s, and then she saw another symbol on the floor near it. Another one was drawn on the dresser, and one on the curtain.… She hadn’t spotted them earlier; closer up, they blended in with the gore splattered all over. From a distance, it was obvious. A magic circle covered half the living room.

Bakharov examined the device, pushing the same big red button over and over. “It might be malfunctioning.”

“Maybe we should try switching it off and on again,” Lila said.

“I know what it is!” Kosara shouted. The tall policeman stood straighter, trying to block her view of the scene. Too late. She waved a hand over his shoulder. “Bakharov, I know what it is.”

Bakharov considered her for a second. “What is it?”

“Can I come in?”

“Obviously not. This is a crime scene. What is it?”

“It’s a magic circle. Look, this symbol over here is connected to that one, right across from it. This one—to that other one over there. Do you see it?”

“Is it a trap? Is that what killed Irnik Ivanov?”

“Not a trap. The symbols scattered around the room are directions. This one literally says ‘North.’” Kosara pointed at a North arrow scribbled on the mirror frame. “And this”—she nodded at the two K’s—“is the destination. It’s a teleportation spell. Whoever the murderer was, they had one of Karaivanov’s amulets for crossing the Wall. It teleported them straight to Chernograd.”

Was this what Roksana had meant when she’d told Kosara she’d find some other way to cross the Wall again? Christ.

Bakharov looked down at the two K’s. His lips shaped a swear word, but no sound came out.

“What does that mean?” Lila asked, the device in her hand still hissing.

Bakharov sighed. “It means they’ve escaped us again.”

“Should I send another request for assistance to the colleagues from the Chernogradean police?”

“Yes. Send them another one. Kosara…” Bakharov shuffled past the policeman guarding the door. He leaned in and whispered, “Are you certain it’s a teleportation spell?”

“Absolutely.”

“And it leads back to Chernograd?”

---