Page 82 of Livewire Witch

“Sorry.” Dante squeezes gently before stepping back. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I guess we’re never going to know what happened to them,” I say, rubbing my tired eyes.

By now, it’s the middle of the night and it’s cold as hell out here.

Why does everything always seem to happen when I should be tucked up in bed, sleeping?

“Did you find out anything at all?” Dante asks. “From the, er, ghosts? Or the bodies?”

“They were all on a night out. Something happened and then they were dead. Their bodies were kept somewhere for a while, but they couldn’t tell me for how long and then they were dumped here.” I shake my head. “That’s all I got, sorry.”

“Where they turned to bone.” He hums softly. “I’m guessing the bodies were either spelled or were covered in a potion that meant they’d disintegrate after a certain amount of time. If Lily hadn’t walked by when she did, we might never have known about them at all.”

“Makes you wonder if this has happened before,” Fabian says.

“When Simpson and the other vamps were talking about their grand master plan, they said something about drugging people and then draining them. Do you think that’s what happened here?”

“They said it gave them a boost of power,” I mumble.

The implication is clear enough.

If the vamps get a boost of power from draining drugged bodies, then how much power would they have gotten from the fifty or so bodies dumped here tonight?

And what exactly do they plan to do with that power?

“If I did the same thing as Roscoe the other day and recreated one of their images, could you use your fancy surveillance across the district to see where and when they were last seen?” I ask Fabian. “If we can pinpoint their last known location, we might get a clearer idea what happened and maybe even see who they were with.”

“Track the ones that did this.” Dante nods.

“That’s a great idea,” Fabian says with a little smile.

I nod and summon my illusion magic, focusing on the image in my head and drawing it out of me until the female ghost is standing in front of me. “Keep in mind I don’t know what color her hair was or what she was wearing.”

“Brunette. Red skirt. White top.” Dante says.

When I shoot him a confused look, he gestures to the pile of bones. “I saw her. She was... close to the top.”

A shudder of revulsion goes through me, and I have to push it away. Now is not the time to freak out. I need to concentrate.

It only takes a minute or two before the figure of the ghost woman is in front of me, her hands on her hips.

Fabian snaps a picture of my recreation and starts typing on his phone, thumbs flying across the screen. “I’ll get one of our guys on it.”

I look to Dante, who is grimacing at his own phone. “I took photographs,” he says.

He shakes his head in disgust. “The fact they were all drained of blood should be enough proof for the elders to take some interest, but—”

“You still don’t think it’ll be enough?”

“I very much doubt they’ll care about a pile of corpses. However horrific that sounds. They’re old as dirt. All they really care about is something blowing back to affect their reputation.”

“Have you considered whether this whole getting proof thing is a way to keep you busy?” Fabian asks.

“It crossed my mind. Although, ifthisis what we’re dealing with, I think I’m unevenly matched.”

“Why do you care?” I ask. “If vamps end up ruling the city, won’t that be good for you?”

His disbelieving bark of a laugh sends a jolt through my stomach.

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