“Needs incense,” I heard her mutter from behind me.

I swung the tiny flashlight in an arc, blue light reflecting eerily off the metal table and stained walls. “Let’s just hope no one gets brought in while we’re doing our little bit of breaking and entering.”

The cooler was locked, but I knew that the key was oh-so-cleverly hidden in a drawer right next to it. A wave of cold dead air rolled out as I swung the door open, and once again I pulled my aunt inside, this time propping the door slightly ajar with an office chair. I panned my flashlight around the cooler, relieved to find that there was only one stretcher with a body bag atop it. I checked the tag on the outside of the bag to be sure. Yep, this was my victim, Mark Janson.

The bag was secured with a plastic zip tie, which I sliced through with my knife. I quickly tugged on latex gloves, then unzipped the bag, exhaling as the sight of the young man struck an emotional chord once again. Then I grimaced. The arcane smudges had faded drastically, as I’d feared.

“There’s not much left of them, Aunt Tessa. Can you see anything?”

Tessa leaned over the bag, slowly scanning the body, nose wrinkling at the faint odor of sweat and blood and death. “I see what you’re talking about.” She frowned. “Turn your flashlight off, please.”

I switched the flashlight off, suppressing a shudder at the near-absolute blackness inside the cooler, broken only by the faint illumination sneaking past the propped-open door. But I could see why my aunt wanted less light. The smudges were far more visible to othersight in the dark.

“There’s not much to see,” Tessa said, “but it’s definitely a male who left these.”

“The profiles that were done all indicated a white male in his thirties—”

“Lives alone, parents divorced, yeah yeah yeah,” my aunt cut in with a laugh. “Isn’t it funny how every profile is darn near the same?”

“No shit! But I was going to add that I also got the impression of a male.”

“Hmm … But that doesn’t mean he’s the killer.”

“Sure, but that’s some pretty damning evidence.” I shrugged. “I mean, if any of this were admissible in court.”

Tessa made a low noise in her throat. “They.”

It took a second for my aunt’s comment to register. “Wait, there’s more than one?”

“Yep. At least, there are two different sources on this body.” She sighed. “But I can’t really tell anything about the second one. Can’t even tell gender or species.”

“Species?” I said, startled. The dark shape of my aunt’s head turned toward me.

“Yes, dearie. Not necessarily human.”

I groaned. “Aw, crap. So this guy could be teaming up with a demon?”

“You weren’t listening,” she chided. “I said I couldn’t tell. It could still be a human, it could be a demon. It could be a squid person from Mars.”

I snorted softly and smiled. “Of course, Auntie Dearest.”

“Oh, please,” she groaned. “Enough of that. Now gimme some light, Darling Niece.”

I flicked the flashlight on again, only to have Tessa pluck it from my fingers and shine it directly on the symbol on the man’s lower abdomen. She stared at it, mumbling softly under her breath, then finally sighed and shook her head. “I can’t figure that thing out at all.” She handed the light back to me. “We’ll have to ask one of the demonic ilk for advice on that one. I wish we knew how you muffed up the Rysehl summoning.”

My jaw tightened. “I didn’t muff it up.”

She winced. “Sorry, that came out harsher than I meant. But something went wrong, and I’d be a lot happier if I knew what it was.” She smiled and patted my cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll figure it out.”

I zipped up the bag, then pulled a fresh zip tie out of my pocket and resealed the bag. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s go.”

We left the cooler and I relocked it, but Tessa paused before following me out of the morgue. “I’m not your enemy here, Kara. I know I’ve screwed up in the past, but I’m really trying here.”

My shoulders slumped. I was being a jerk and letting my own stress spill onto her. “You haven’t screwed up.”

She shook her head. “You and I both know that’s not true. That month while I dithered in Japan and left you in that awful foster home—”

“You made that right,” I cut in, voice a bit rough. I looked at her, seeing the guilt on her face again. “Aunt Tessa, that’s in the past. You … did the right thing. You made it right,” I repeated.

She exhaled, nodded. “Well, I should have made sure you had more friends in high school. Made you get out more—”

“Okay, are we just going to stand here and flail around in guilt all night long?” I gave her a mock glare. “Because if that’s really your plan, I’d like to do it someplace that doesn’t stink so damn much.”

She laughed and gave me a quick, bony hug. “Impudent little bitch. I don’t know why I bother with you at all.”

“I don’t either, but you’re fucking stuck with me.” I gave her a squeeze, then released her. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

The next several days were spent doing the most exciting police work I ever thought I would be involved with.

Not.

I sighed and popped another VHS tape into the VCR and settled back onto my bed, hitting the play button on the remote. They never showed this stuff on TV, the endless hours of searching through surveillance video on the mere hope that maybe possibly hopefully some glimpse of something that might occasionally point the investigator to a lead could be found. The day after breaking into the morgue with Tessa, I’d gone to every business and convenience store and gas station within a mile of either crime scene and collected surveillance videos for the times between sundown and a few hours after the bodies were discovered.

Then I’d brought the box of videotapes home, settled in, and watched. And watched. Watched until my eyes crossed, searching for anything that could help, any consistencies between the time frames surrounding the two murders. Hoping to see someone walk into one of the gas stations wearing a T-shirt that proclaimed, I AM THE SYMBOL MAN!

I scrubbed at my eyes. I’d been at this for nearly a week. I’d seen seventeen instances of shoplifting, four instances of employee theft, nine drug deals, twenty-one gas drive-offs, and one instance of a couple having sex by the beer cooler, but nothing at all that leaped out as being relevant to the murders.

I finally turned off the TV and flopped back onto my pillows, looking up at the shifting shadows cast by the waning moon filtering through the trees. I hated to think that these murders were unsolvable. This killer had to have slipped up somewhere, left some clue. Or maybe he had, and I was just missing it? With zero leads, I knew that I wouldn’t be allowed to keep working this case exclusively forever. I was spinning my wheels chasing down nebulous possibilities, while others were picking up the slack with my other cases—the assaults and robberies that continued despite the Symbol Man. Beaulac’s police force wasn’t large enough to have detectives dedicated solely to homicides, and I knew that there was resentment simmering among other detectives about the shift in caseload. Boudreaux and Pellini had made it crystal clear that they weren’t content with the fact that I’d snagged a primo case.

I sighed and pushed the pillow into a more comfortable position. Of course, I still had the arcane angle to pursue. But I’d feel a lot more comfortable performing another summoning if I had even the slightest idea of what had gone wrong with the Rysehl summoning. “I screwed up,” I said aloud, hating the sound of it. It still felt terribly jarring. I wasn’t an anal perfectionist, and I’d certainly made mistakes in summonings in the past, but I’d always known what the mistake was. What if I summoned again and accidentally pulled another powerful creature through—one who was perfectly fine with killing me in spectacular fashion instead of merely fucking my brains out?