The Thirteenth Sacrifice (12 page)

She felt like he had just punched her. She hunched
her shoulders and dropped her eyes. Just a few more seconds and there would be nothing anyone could do. It would be over.

“I can’t do it alone,” she whispered.

“I’m here. Whatever you need.”

She nodded. He started to pull away, but she grabbed his hand. She placed her free hand on Katie’s chest, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Then she shoved energy through her hand and into Katie. At the same time she pulled energy out of Ed.

She felt him gasp and reflexively pull back, but she hung on.

She sent waves of energy into Katie and pictured them rushing through her body, pushing out the toxins. She could feel Katie dying, and when her heart stopped, it was like her own had as well. She ceased to breathe because Katie no longer breathed. She was linking their two systems. It was dangerous, but it was the only way.

There were only moments left. She could feel Katie’s mind slipping away to a place where she couldn’t follow. The connection was weakening. Fear flooded her. If she pushed too hard, she risked doing catastrophic damage. But if she didn’t push hard enough, Katie would still be dead of the toxin.

It had to be expelled, but it was too pervasive to be done quickly or from one source. A flash of insight came to her and she spiked Katie’s temperature. The girl’s body began to sweat. Samantha took a deep breath and pulled as much energy out of Ed as she dared. She could feel him starting to weave beside her, on the verge of losing consciousness himself.

She sent a sudden rush of energy throughout the girl’s body, sterilizing, purifying, just as fire cauterized a wound. Then she pushed the toxins out of each organ,
each blood vessel, to the skin, where they began to ooze out of her pores with her sweat.

The stench of something rotten filled the air, and behind her she could hear another police officer arrive and begin gagging in response. Katie’s skin briefly took on a greenish tinge and then returned to its normal pallor. Samantha removed her hand with a gasp, forcing air into her own lungs as she broke the connection. Her own heart began to beat again and she felt light-headed.

“She’s still not breathing,” Ed slurred beside her.

Samantha held her hands together, funneling all the strength she had left into them until she could feel the heat radiating from them. Then she slammed both hands down on Katie’s chest and the girl convulsed as the electricity rushed through her.

Samantha watched for a moment, praying she wouldn’t have to do it a second time. And then, miraculously, Katie coughed and began to breathe. Samantha fell backward flat on the ground and shuddered with exhaustion. A ragged sob escaped Ed.

Katie was alive. They had succeeded.

But Samantha suspected it had cost her dearly.

By the time the paramedics arrived, Katie was conscious but no less terrified. “I could have been killed,” she said around her sobs.

“But you weren’t.” Ed tried to reassure her. “We told you we would protect you and that’s what we’re going to do.”

Katie looked up at Samantha. “And you saved me? How?”

“That’s not important,” Samantha said, looking away. The last thing she wanted was for Katie to realize what she’d done, who she was.

Who I still am,
she thought grimly.

The magic came back so naturally, so effortlessly. It frightened her. And she knew that the closer she got to this case, the worse it would get. She desperately wanted to distance herself, and fast, but she knew that wasn’t a realistic option.

“I should have gone on vacation,” she muttered.

“Aren’t I always telling you to take one?” Ed said. “Bet you wish you’d listened to me now.”

She wanted to hit him, but the strength required to lift her arm seemed beyond her at the moment.

They were both sitting on the floor, still drained from what had happened. The stench of formaldehyde hung
heavy in the air and she noticed that Ed did everything he could to avoid looking at the fetal pigs. She could feel his relief when Captain Roberts arrived, even though the man’s face was like a thundercloud.

“Somebody want to tell me what the hell happened?”

Captain Roberts kicked one of the tiny carcasses, looked down at it, and swore.

“Our location was compromised and we were forced to move the witness,” Ed said.

“And?”

“And when we reached the lobby, the crowd recognized Katie from the news broadcasts and decided the only good witch was a dead witch,” Ed continued.

The words made Samantha wince.
I’m not a witch. Not anymore
. But Ed had called her one earlier, and she had not forgotten it. He had used the word purposely to manipulate her emotions and get her to save Katie.

Words had power. Names had power. It was true even for people who didn’t use magic, and Ed had played the game like a pro.

“And the dead woman?” Captain Roberts asked.

“An assassin,” Samantha said. “A witch sent to kill Katie. I suspect that she also put a spell on the crowd, incited them to riot in order to cause confusion so she could get to Katie more easily.”

Captain Roberts knelt next to her and looked her in the eye. “And she was a real witch? You’re absolutely sure?”

Samantha nodded and he sighed and sat down too, looking suddenly tired and worn.

“Okay, boys and girls, then what’s our game plan? We’ve killed one of their own and they’re not about to take that sitting down, I’m guessing.”

“We can’t let on that we know they exist. These people
will go underground and we’ll never find them,” Ed said.

“What are you suggesting?” Captain Roberts asked. “They’ll know she’s dead, or at least figure it out eventually.”

“We announce it publicly,” Samantha said. “Make it sound like she was a bystander who was killed when the riot happened over the alleged witch.”

He stared at her like she had lost her mind, his mouth working for a moment before any sound came out. “Are you crazy? Do you know how that would make the department look? And more, we don’t want to feed this whole witch thing, especially if it’s real.”

“That’s out of our hands now,” Ed pointed out. “Press is going to run with this no matter what we say or do. This plan at least helps us out in the long run, gives us time to catch these people.”

“And I think we need to report that Katie was killed in the attack,” Samantha added. “We can only protect her if they stop looking for her.”

“You think it will work?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It will buy us some time at the very least.”

“Okay, we’ll play it your way for now,” Captain Roberts said with a nod. He caught the eye of one of the paramedics. “Tell me when she’s good to travel.”

“She’s good now,” the man said, looking slightly confused. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with her—or
was
wrong with her. We can’t find anything. They’ll run tests at the hospital to check everything.”

“No, they won’t. She isn’t going to any hospital. And I’m going to have to ask for your help,” Roberts said, getting back on his feet and moving over to talk to the man.

“You okay?” Ed asked after a minute.

“No. You?”

“Not even a little bit,” he admitted. “Don’t suppose there’s any chance that this is all just a really bad dream?”

“Neither of us is that lucky.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” he said with a sigh. He hesitated a moment and then continued. “I feel like crap.”

“You were the one who volunteered to help,” she said, feeling defensive.

“Yeah, about that… what did I do exactly? Or, rather, what did you do?”

“Most of witchcraft revolves around the manipulation of energy, electricity. I needed more energy than I had, so I borrowed.”

“Borrowed? Does that mean there’s a chance you’ll give it back?”

She forced herself to smile. “Okay, took is more like it. And you’ll feel fine after a good night’s sleep. I warn you, though, you’ll be out for the whole day if you don’t set your alarm.”

“That sounds good,” he said with a groan.

“But duty calls,” she said softly.

“I hear you. Now, any chance can you help me stand up before I decide to just sleep here on the floor?”

“If I had the strength to stand up myself I’d be there for you,” she said ruefully.

Ed glanced grimly over at the paramedics. “Hey, fellas, a little help?”

In the morning, when Samantha arrived at the precinct, she found Ed already at work, eyes bloodshot, massive coffee cup in his hand.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Nothing good about it. The neighbor’s dog woke me up with his barking every hour last night. At four a.m. I seriously considered shooting him.”

“The dog?”

“No, the neighbor. He should have let the poor animal go inside so we could all get some rest.”

She nodded and sat down, glancing at a few things that had been stacked on her desk.

“Got something for you,” Ed said, handing her a file.

“What is it?”

“The police report that was filed regarding the assault on Jane four months ago.”

Samantha took it and flipped it open. She skipped the written report and focused on the pictures, which showed Jane, half dead, covered in dirt and bruises. She felt for the girl and prayed fervently that she would find peace. Then she flipped to the last photo and stopped.

It was a picture of the mark on the back of Jane’s neck. It was an odd mark, part drawing, part scratch. Samantha looked more closely. Someone had drawn on her in pen and one portion of the skin had been cut, as though someone had traced a pattern and then begun carving it. Blood and inflamed tissue made it hard to see what the pattern was, and part of the ink was smudged, making the original lines unrecognizable. When Jane had shown it to her the day before, she hadn’t been able to make out much. She squinted now, staring at the picture. There was something about the placement that was familiar—

Her heart stuttered and she rose abruptly from the desk.

“What is it?” Ed asked.

“Did you see this?” she asked, showing him the picture.

He nodded. “Officers couldn’t tell what it was supposed
to be. They thought it was some kind of gang symbol or something.”

“Let’s go,” she said.

“Where?”

“We have to go talk to the coroner.”

Half an hour later Samantha stood staring down at the dead nun as a chill swept through her. “She’s got something carved on the back of her neck,” she confirmed. The skin was so mangled, though, that she couldn’t tell what it had been. She turned to Ed, who was looking down at the body of Camille.

“There’s something here too,” he confirmed.

Samantha turned to the coroner. “Have you been able to identify what kind of a mark this is?”

He shook his head. “But I can tell you that whatever made it was razor sharp.”

“An athame,” she mused.

“Pardon?” the coroner said.

“A ceremonial dagger, used by witches.”

He raised his eyebrows. “So are we actually going with the press’s whole witch theory?”

“More than just a theory,” Ed said grimly.

Samantha stood, thinking. Jane had been attacked, nearly sacrificed, four months before. Had it really taken them that long to find a replacement? It didn’t seem likely. They would have wanted to sacrifice someone else back then. She thought back, trying to figure out what ritual they might have been performing at that time of year. Practitioners of black arts did not celebrate the phases of the moon and the season in the same way as Wiccans or pagans did. There were, however, a few rituals that were tied to such things. It would have been too early for the summer solstice.

She shook her head. She wasn’t going to figure out what they were doing based on the time of year of the first attack. What she needed to figure out was if it had been the only attack until the day before.

“Have any young girls come in during the last four months with something carved into their bodies? It wouldn’t just have to be the back of the neck; it could have been concealed elsewhere.”

The coroner thought a moment and then moved to one of the large filing cabinets in the room.

“Is that a yes?” Ed asked.

The man didn’t say anything, just started flipping through files. Finally he pulled one out and looked at it. Then he turned and looked at Samantha.

“She came in about three months ago. Jane Doe—we never did figure out who she was. Her body was discovered in a park and I estimated that she’d been dead a week. She had a symbol carved on the sole of her left foot.”

He held out a piece of paper from the file and turned it so she could see it. It was an eight-sided star cut into her foot with the skin from one section of the star completely removed.

Samantha fell to her knees and began to retch. Terror surged through her and she could feel her world flying apart.

“What is it?” She heard Ed ask it as though from a distance.

She stopped heaving after a moment and looked up at him. “An octogram,” she said, her voice shaking.

“What does it mean?” Ed asked.

Wholeness, regeneration, so many things—but only one of them was important.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “It means I have to go back.”

Samantha clutched the piece of paper the coroner had given her tightly in her fist. Captain Roberts’s door was open and she closed it behind her as she entered his office.

He looked up from his desk, a mixture of caution and hope in his eyes as he stared at her.

She tossed the piece of paper on his desk and then collapsed into the chair across from him. He picked up the paper and studied the symbol for a moment. “Okay, I give. Other than some kind of star, what is it?”

“Part of a spell to raise the dead.”

He stared at her, thunderstruck. “Is that even possible?” he asked at last.

She nodded slowly. “Not easy, not even probable, but certainly possible.”

“How?”

“Is that really the question you want to be asking right now?” she said with a sigh.

“That’s what all of this is about?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “I’m not sure if that’s the endgame or just step one in whatever they’re planning.”