I crouched next to Amanda, wanting so badly to tuck the loose strands of white-blonde hair behind her ear. But I didn’t dare. God, please don’t let this be what I think it is.

As we waited for the paramedics, I used the time to scan her body, searching over the Black Watch plaid skirt, the knee-high white socks, the chunky black Mary Janes, and the white blouse. It was the same uniform Emma had worn to school, the same one she wore every day. Nothing seemed out of place, except for Amanda herself. She looked peaceful, happy even.

The medical examiner entered the bathroom with her hard, shiny black case and equally shiny black bob, which curved under a small oval face, determined red lips, and dark Asian eyes. She’d gotten another new pair of glasses and they framed her eyes perfectly, as did the other twenty-odd pairs she owned. Liz bought designer eyeglasses like some women bought expensive shoes. “Hey, Madigan.” She shut the door behind her. “How is it you can afford to send your kid to a swanky place like this?”

I was going to kill Hank. The blabbermouth.

I stood and moved aside. “It’s called child support. Automatic draft is a wondrous thing.”

“Ah, that would explain it.” She set down her case, opened it, and withdrew a small pair of latex gloves, which she put on with a loud snap. Then she knelt next to Amanda to check her pulse and listen to her heartbeat. “Heard over the radio you have a live one here.” She sighed, preferring to analyze the dead over the living. “Not exactly my specialty but … How old is she?”

“Sixteen,” I answered quietly, allowing Liz to be the brilliant medical examiner that she was. Of course it didn’t hurt that she was also a kick-ass necromancer. Usually, what the dead couldn’t tell us from our investigation, they could tell Liz. But we always tried to solve a case ourselves. It took a massive amount of energy and life force to raise the dead. And if Liz did it for every John Doe who rolled through the door, she would’ve lost her own life a long time ago. After a long moment, she removed the earpieces to the stethoscope.

“Anything?” I asked.

“Heartbeat is so damn faint and slow you can hardly hear it with the stethoscope. At this rate, she should be going into cardiac arrest. Looks like all the others.”

I glanced impatiently at the door. Where the hell were the medics?

Still hopeful, Liz examined Amanda’s skull. “There appears to be no external damage to her body at all. Maybe an aneurysm, or …” She lifted Amanda’s eyelid, and we both gasped even though we’d seen this a dozen times in the last week.

I knelt down. “Damn.”

A cloudy white film glazed over Amanda’s eye. Goose bumps crept up my arms and legs, a sign of foreboding that left me downright cold. The Pine-Sol scent of the room was starting to give me a headache.

“Looks like ash has just moved uptown,” Liz said on a resigned breath.

Hank dropped to his haunches next to me and took in this new information. A steel curtain slid over his features. Hank always showed his emotions. And with the realization of what we were seeing, ash making its way from Underground Atlanta into a midtown private school, Hank should’ve been cursing or hitting something by now. I studied him intently and didn’t miss the telltale flex of his jaw before he stood. Yeah, something was definitely up.

“Mom! Mom, what’s going on?” Emma’s terrified voice echoed from the hallway.

Motherhood and work. Usually I had no trouble keeping the two separated, but this time the lines were seriously blurred. “Damn it.” I closed my eyes for a second, hating that they had crossed, hating that they’d even come close. I drew in a deep breath and switched gears from detective to mom. “Hold on a sec,” I told Hank and Liz and then walked calmly into the hallway, mentally preparing myself.

Seeing her standing there in her uniform, all tall and thin, approaching twelve way too fast, it suddenly hit me how much Emma had grown in the last year. A rush of sad realization squeezed my chest. Time was racing by where my daughter was concerned. She pressed against the police tape, which had gone up while we were inside, and pushed against the school security officer. He held her back with a hand on her shoulder. My hand went to the service weapon on my hip. An automatic gesture. I didn’t intend to use it, but the guy had better get his paws off my kid.

“Hey.” I placed my hand on his left shoulder, probably harder than I should have. “I got it.”

He hesitated. He might be the big guy here at school, but he knew not to mess with an ITF agent. Our training and selection process had become legendary. Not many people could look a hellhound in the eye and know how to defeat it. We’d been trained to face every being and beast from both worlds, and we all had the scars and nightmares to prove it.

“Ma’am.” He nodded, stepping back.

I turned to my daughter, lowering my voice. “What are you doing out of class?” I had to show my confident side, let her know everything would be all right. But my heart pounded. She was highly intuitive and knew me better than anyone. I reached out to smooth the wavy brown bangs behind her ear. She always wore a ponytail to school—couldn’t convince her to do anything different.

She did a quick wave with her wooden bathroom pass. “Mom,” she began in an I’m-not-a-stupid-kid-I-know-what’s-going-on tone, “they told us to stay in class, that something happened with a student, but I saw you and Hank from the window and said I had to go.” She leaned close, her big brown eyes turning wide and glassy. “Amanda was supposed to be my lab buddy today, but she never showed.” Her nostrils flared and tears rose to the surface. “It’s not her, is it?”

I opened my mouth to answer at the same moment the paramedics burst through the front door and raced down the hall. Great. I turned back to her. Two lines of tears trailed down her cheeks. Her bottom lip trembled, tugging hard on my protective instincts.

“Oh, God. I knew it!” There was a hint of accusation in her tone, as though I somehow had control over what had happened.

“Oh, baby.” I pulled her close, hugging her tight and smoothing back her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of Cherry Blast shampoo. She was too young to know this kind of worry and fear. But Emma was a strong kid. She’d had to fly by the seat of her pants right along with me when I became a mother at nineteen, and she’d handled that learning curve like a champ. And she’d been able to get through the divorce with way more strength and understanding than me.

We’d get through this. And I damned sure as hell was going to find out who was flooding the city with ash. The optimistic part of me wanted to believe there was another explanation for Amanda’s condition, that somehow it was just a medical issue. But I knew it was a silly hope. No medical problems I knew of turned your eyes into something out of The Exorcist. How in the hell had it spread so quickly?

“It’ll be all right, kiddo.” I leaned back and gazed down at her, giving her my most reassuring smile. She was the one innocent, good thing in my world. And I intended to keep it that way. “Amanda will make it, you’ll see. She’s not hurt, not bleeding; she’s just asleep and we can’t figure out why.”

I kissed her forehead, pausing there for a moment to breathe in her scent again. No one else could give me that kind of immediate peace. She grounded me, kept me always looking forward and never back. Kept me from lingering too long on all the evil things I’d witnessed over my career and in my past. I straightened and drew in a deep, cleansing breath, then looked her straight in the eye. “But we’ll fix this, I promise. Okay?”

Her mouth dropped open. One hand went to her hip. “Okay? That’s it? Okay? Like I’m eight years old or something?” Her chin lifted a notch, and her eyes glinted in opposition. “It’s not okay. I want to see her.”