Page 363 of Castings & Curses

“The hat the kid is wearing. It’s a magical wanna be.” Devi took in the rest of the scene, nausea pooling in her gut. “You know? Like charging a battery?”

“Not something we’ve seen much of around here, detective.”

“But I bet you have in your own circles.” She let her gaze linger over Cappelli’s and the woman’s icy façade melted just a little.

“It’s happened before. Vampires drinking those with power to take their essence.”

“Witches do it, too.”

But among the ravers lay the missing members of the homicide team, their throats torn open, eyes staring blankly into the night.

“Cappelli. Oh, no.”

“I see them.”

“This is seriously fucked.”

A shadowy figure burst out of the woods, darting toward them at breakneck speed. He was covered in gore, his eyes wide with terror.

“Get out of here! It’s coming.”

“Andrews?” Cappelli backed up a step, her mouth open in shock. “What happened to the team?”

“Go!” Andrews roared. His right arm was drenched in blood, a bite wound laying open his flesh.

Devi moved on impulse, the blade she carried under the suit jacket freed by virtue of muscle memory and a will to survive. Something was chasing him and she didn’t want that something to clamp down on her.

Cappelli stepped into the panicked officer’s path. “Jesus, Andrews. Stop.” She reached out to detain him but he maneuvered out of her grip.

“No,” he moaned. “Not going to become that.”

He gave Cappelli a mournful look.

“Leave this place before you die.” Then he dove head first into the bonfire.

“Stop! What the fuck are you doing, man?” Cappelli tried to pull him from the fire, but it was more than a little too late. The inferno grew, engulfing him in flames.

“Leave him.” Devi broke her own rule and touched the vampire, this time putting up her shields.

“He was one of the best in the department. None of this shit makes any sense.” She thrust her fingers through her hair in frustration.

“We have to know what to look for. And if whatever was chasing him is still out there, we better be ready.”

Without a word, Devi sheathed her weapon and pressed down the radio call button. “This is Graves and Benoit requesting a bus and backup. Multiple victims on site. Officers down. I repeat, officers down.”

Nothing else in the macabre scene moved. Whoever else performed the rite was long gone. It was a wasteland of death and destruction. She walked along the edge of the campfire and noted the strange markings on the stones.

Runes.

Sigils.

All meant for drawing power.

A bloody pentagram drawn in the dirt enclosed the space, and the fire burned in the middle like a beacon in the night. The smell of sulfur was unmistakable, but faded.

On the ground lay a discarded copy of the Necronomicon. It was the kind of cheap paperback you’d find at any chain bookstore. Well-thumbed and covered in bloody fingerprints, it was a spell of intent. There, hidden in the sand, were the complex drawings she was looking for. In the shadows of the trees, she found the twin scythe moons and a throne-like chair between them.

She thought back to the 911 call and shuddered.

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