Page 9 of Horn of Winter

“It’ll take us about ten to get there.”

“See you soon.” I tucked the phone away and stopped a few feet away from the dead man Mathi was patting down. “Sgott and his people are on the way. You find anything?”

“No phone, no wallet, and no car keys. He’s not even wearing a watch.” He motioned toward the body. “And the fact he came out on an evening like this without a coat suggests he was likely driven here, either via a cab, Uber, or whoever told him to shoot himself.”

“We’re only presuming the latter.” I scanned the area again. “The frost is light on the ground here, but it’s possible our spellcaster left some prints further along.”

“Unless he went up the embankment and over the fence.”

“Even if he did, there’d be some evidence of it. We should look.” I glanced at him. “It’s better than standing around doing nothing but freezing our butts.”

“Oh, I can think of one or two ways we could keep the chill at bay, but sadly, you refuse to even entertain the prospect.”

“Because you’re past entertainment, not current or future. Shall we move?”

His sigh was a dramatic thing, though amusement danced through his bright eyes. “I guess if I have no other option?—”

“Well, you could stand here and stare at a dead man.”

“Not something I’ve ever been prone to do, even when responsible for said death.”

“You know, there’s a part of me horrified by that comment, and yet, also intrigued.”

“As our ghul noted, the Dhar-Val line does have something of a reputation.” He carefully stepped around the body and fell in step beside me. “Two shooters and a spellcaster is certainly what most in the business would consider overkill, and suggests once again we’re not dealing with professionals.”

We came out of the trees, but there was no sign of disturbance on the frost-kissed grass or indeed the embankment. Either our caster walked more lightly than elves, or they had wings.

As the faint sound of approaching sirens began to bite the air, I shoved my cold hands into my pockets and said, “This is useless.”

“I would have to agree,” Mathi said. “But hopefully, there’ll be a tracker amongst Sgott’s people, and they’ll have a little more luck.”

“I wouldn’t be putting money on it. If you ask me, this has all the hallmarks of a carefully planned, even if not perfectly executed, event.”

“Which brings to mind a question—how did you learn about the ghul’s presence? I had no idea one existed here, and I’ve been living in Deva far longer than you.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Overheard a conversation between a couple of customers and asked them about it.”

His eyebrows rose. “New customers, by chance?”

“Tourists, so yes.” I glanced at him. “You’re thinking it was a setup?”

“Well, you have to admit it’s likely.”

“The ghul wouldn’t be party to such a thing. They are honest folk.”

“But, as she said, two visits in under a week is rather unusual. It’s a shame she wouldn’t tell us what that other person wanted. I suspect it might provide some clue as to her identity.”

The wail of sirens ended abruptly, but blue and red light washed across the darkness. The silence briefly felt heavier, but the sound of approaching voices soon changed that. I didn’t hear Sgott’s voice amongst them, but maybe he was still on the way or had simply sent the investigative team that was closest.

“You head up there and meet Sgott’s people,” I said. “I’ve got a tree I need to heal first.”

He raised an eyebrow but kept on walking. I moved back down the slope, following the song of pain until I found the bullet-ridden old oak. I brushed my fingers down her trunk, then gently connected to the golden rivers of her energy, following the network of fibers until I found the deeply embedded bullets. One by one, I gently eased the metal back up the tunnel it had gouged, healing the wound behind it as I went. As the bullets neared the surface of the trunk, I tugged a sleeve over my hand to catch them, then reconnected the torn fibers over each entry point, allowing the river of light and the tree’s song to once again run rich and unimpeded.

But as I stepped back, the faintest glimmer of red caught my eye. It was hanging from the very tip of a low-hanging branch of a nearby tree, and very much looked like several strands of fiery red hair.

My heart leapt in hope. The woman I’d briefly glimpsed in the ghul’s memories had traded strands of red hair, so there was every chance that these strands belonged to our caster. And if we could find her, then maybe she could lead us to the pixie who’d magicked our dead men.

I walked over to untangle the strands from the limb, but the minute my fingers touched the hair, my second sight leapt into action.

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