“Captain, this isn’t some pedestrian attack. Look at the wounds. This isn’t some random act of violence. I get wanting to get it closed as quickly as possible, but if we don’t address what’s happening in the city, we’re going to see even more bodies like this.”
“You don’t think this is one off?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
Moreau’s eyes narrowed, her mouth a thin line of displeasure. “I haven’t seen anything like this cross my desk, Broussard.”
“Exactly like it? No, but a lot of similarities… more like a thread running through things. We’ve closed most of them, but I still think they’re connected.”
“Connected or not, what I care about is results. So, do your job. But keep your theories out of the official report, understood?”
Griff bit back a retort, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. “Understood.”
She gave a curt nod before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving Griff standing over the body, frustration gnawing at his gut. He couldn’t just walk away from this. Not when everything in him screamed that this was bigger than anyone realized. And not when it reminded him so much of his father’s unsolved case.
Griff stood up and motioned for one of the forensic techs. “Get me a sample of that residue,” he ordered, pointing to the dark substance on the victim’s skin. “I want it tested for anything unusual.”
The tech nodded, already moving to gather what was needed. Griff turned and made his way back toward his bike, pulling out his phone as he walked. He knew someone who might have answers—or at least be able to tell him what the hell kind of magic he was dealing with.
Dr. Geneva Duvall, one of Phoenix’s younger sisters and the assistant medical examiner for the city, was one of the few people Griff trusted with cases like this. She wasn’t just good at her job—she knew the world beneath the surface, the one most people pretended didn’t exist. She’d helped him more times than he could count when magic and death intersected in ways the normal authorities couldn’t explain.
“Geneva, it’s Griff,” he said as soon as she picked up. “I’m at a scene. We’ve got another body, and it’s bad. I’m sending you a picture of the wounds. There’s some kind of residue. Looks magical.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Geneva’s voice came through, calm but concerned. “I’ll be at the morgue in twenty. Bring the body directly to me, and I’ll take a look. But from the sound of it, we might be dealing with something new.”
“New?” Griff’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”
“Something Phoenix mentioned at dinner. I’ll be able to give you a better idea once I see it in person,” Geneva replied. “Just get it to me as soon as you can.”
Griff hung up, his mind racing. Geneva’s tone had been careful, but he could hear the undercurrent of unease in her voice. If she and her sister thought this was something new, something worse than what they’d already seen, then they were in trouble.
He strode back to Moreau, catching her just as she was finishing up with another officer. “I’m having the body sent to Geneva…” he said, his voice firm.
Moreau rolled her eyes. “That’s not protocol…”
“You want results, or you want protocol?”
Moreau snorted. “You know the answer to that.”
Griff nodded. “I’ll ask her to get you a preliminary report by morning.”
Moreau gave him a long, hard look, but after a moment, she nodded. “Fine. But don’t drag this out, Broussard. We don’t need another mess on our hands.”
Griff didn’t bother responding. He turned and headed back to his bike, feeling the weight of the case with every step.
The morgue was cold and sterile, the scent of antiseptic clinging to the air as Griff entered, accompanying the body as they wheeled it inside on a gurney. Geneva was already there, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, her eyes sharp and focused behind her glasses as she prepared her tools.
“Griff,” she greeted, nodding toward the body. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
Griff stepped back, letting Geneva work as she peeled back the sheet covering the victim. Her brow furrowed as she studied the wounds, her gloved fingers lightly touching the residue.
“This is…” Geneva trailed off, her expression tightening. “This is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The magic in this is… ancient.”
Griff frowned. “Ancient? What do you mean?”
Geneva glanced up at him, her eyes serious. “This isn’t your run-of-the-mill dark magic, Griff. This is something older, something more dangerous. It’s the kind of magic that hasn’t been seen in centuries. Whoever did this, knew exactly what they were doing.”
“Family knowledge?”