Page 6 of Alice Worth and the Elite Death Machine

Onone, Sean caught up and smacked my butt. I smiled to myself and went looking for Malcolm.

Chapter

Three

If someone asked me what it was like being a mage private investigator, I’d tell them I selected shampoo, soap, and laundry detergent based on how well they washed away blood and odors like decomposition, smoke, black magic, and sulfur. Some days I had to wash off all those thingsandburn my outfit. The mage PI life was rough on me and my clothing.

Showering by myself was way less fun than if Sean had joined me. Still, I took my time because shifter noses were a thousand times sharper than mine. My life might depend onnotsmelling like that dead demon or the hotel room he’d died in. I scrubbed my whole body like a scientist who thought their hazmat suit might have had a leak. By the time I emerged from the bathroom, I was squeaky clean from head to toe. The simple joys really were the best.

Our new house was unusually quiet this evening, with no houseguests or pack members around. I took a moment to enjoy the silence. After nearly six years of living by myself, I’d grown to love having guests in the home I shared with Sean, but I still preferred solitude sometimes. As foreign as that was to shifters,who were happiest surrounded by pack, they understood that I needed space.

Once I got my hair dried and braided and clean clothes and boots on, I went downstairs. I found Malcolm flitting around the living room, chased by mypukisEsme. They moved almost too fast for me to see. The little gray-and-scarlet house dragon hissed with glee, her tiny fangs bared. Our dog Rogue was nowhere to be found. He’d probably hidden under a bed.

“Help,” Malcolm said as he zipped past to take refuge behind me. “I am an unwilling participant in this game!”

“That’s how I’ve felt about most of my life,” I muttered. I raised my voice and said, “Cut it out, Ez.” I blocked Esme from grabbing Malcolm with her talons. She screeched in displeasure and flew around the living room once more before landing on the back of the couch.

Normally everything just passed through Malcolm, but Esme was a fae creature and the normal rules did not apply to her. I’d received her as a gift from a witch in another world, which was a long story for another day, and she’d followed me home to be my protector and headache. Though small, she was very deadly. Never judge predators based on their size alone. That went double or triple for creatures from the fae realm.

Violet magic swirled and Esme transformed into her other form: a small cat not much bigger than a kitten. She could pass as an ordinary gray tabby if you didn’t see the magic sparkling in her emerald eyes. Only a few people knew what she really was. Everyone else just thought she was a fearless feline unperturbed by living in a house full of werewolves and one long-suffering ghost.

“Thanks.” Malcolm emerged from behind me and eyed Esme in case she decided the game of Catch the Ghost wasn’t over. “You heard from Sean?”

“Not yet.”

“So what’s the plan? Wanna try tracking that shifter trace just for fun and see what happens? You’ve tracked other weird magic before.”

“Yeah, and sometimes doing thatdoesn’talmost get me killed.” Still, I grabbed the crystal containing the suspectedfaoladhtrace and headed for the basement door. “Let’s give it a shot. What’s the worst?—”

“Do not say it,” Malcolm warned. “Just do not. What’s thebestthat could happen? I’m manifesting positive energy for you.”

“Wow. I feel better already.”

We went downstairs to my small basement workshop. Along with strongly warded cabinets and a wooden worktable, it had three concentric circles inlaid into the concrete floor. My own home, which I’d sold to buy this one with Sean, had a much larger basement, but I made this one work because the house was otherwise perfect for us.

The inlaid circles benefited Malcolm and me in three main ways. They remained charged with magic and energy continually by both the house wards and my backyard blood garden full of carnivorous plants. That meant I could put them to use quickly without needing to draw a circle of my own. Best of all, neither Malcolm nor I needed to use our magic to create or hold a circle while doing other spellwork.

With chalk, I drew tracking spellwork in the innermost circle, then traded my shirt for a tank top so I could draw the last of the spell on my arms and across my upper chest with a washable marker. I’d been using tracking spells since age seven, so it took me only about ten minutes to be ready.

“Seriously, though, you’re good with this, right?” Malcolm asked. “You’ve never tracked afaoladh.”

“I haven’t needed to track any kind of shifter for a long time. I’m hoping the fact I have shifter blood will work in my favor here and give me a way to find him.”

“Oh, that’s a good point. But if this goes wrong?—”

“Eh, it’ll either work or it won’t. Even if this guy is a great warrior guardian capable of tearing through silver chainmail, he’s not a demon or a sorcerer or anything else that can come back through the trace at me. Worst case, it doesn’t work, and I just end up with a headache.”

He eyed me. “Why do I feel like every time you say the ‘worst case’ is a headache, the worst case turns out way worse than that?”

“So much for manifesting positive energy.” I took off my boots and socks and sat cross-legged in the circle. “I’ll be fine. But if I’m not, tell Sean he can eat the rest of the pizza in the fridge.”

“Will do.” Malcolm sighed. “So glad you’re taking this seriously.”

“Iamtaking it seriously. Pepperoni pizza is serious business around here.” I cut the tip of my finger on a hidden edge of the ring I wore on my right thumb and used a dab of my blood to invoke the circle. The magic flared and formed a bubble around me. The powerful ward would contain any magic that broke free during the spell. I rolled my neck and shoulders to relax, held the crystal containing the trace in my right hand, and closed my eyes.

Once I cleared my mind of distractions, I drew the tracking spellwork I’d chalked on the floor next to me and connected it to the part of the spell marked on my skin. The tracking spell surged and hummed, waiting.

Carefully, I withdrew the shifter magic and spooled it around my fingers. The crystal’s spellwork had done its best to preserve the trace, but little remained. I figured the odds of this workingjust went from slim to almost nil. Still, I had to try. The twin challenges of tracking shifter trace and only having a wisp to use appealed to me, and I really wanted to get a better sense of thefaoladhwho’d left the trace—if indeed that was the “John Adams” who’d slept in the bed in Room 401.

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