Luckily, I had been expecting him. There was no missing the surge of energy that hit, sending ripples out through the air like waves across a pond while leaving behind a stinging, tingling sensation in the tips of my fingers. Whoever was stirring up this strange magic was getting better at it. And I had an idea as to what this person’s purpose was.
“Come in!” I shouted when the warlock pounded on my front door like some disgruntled bill collector. I was tying my tie while sliding my right foot in a shoe when he stepped over the threshold. He looked surprised to see me already in my uniform, but then considering all the bitching he’d endured on our last outing, he probably thought he’d have to dress me himself.
Lying with Trixie in my arms last night, all too aware of the baby growing between us, I had forced myself to face the hard reality that it was time to get my shit together if I was going to keep my vow of protecting her.
The first step was coming to terms with my identity.
“You felt it?” he asked as he shut the door.
“No missing it.” Dropping on the sofa, I propped my foot on the edge of the coffee table so I could finish tying my laces. “It felt close. A lot closer.”
Gideon grunted. “Charlotte, North Carolina, area. He’s moving north.”
“You sure the maniac is a ‘he’?”
Gideon gave a little shrug. “No, I guess it doesn’t have to be.”
Pushing to my feet, I grabbed my blazer and cloak from where I’d tossed them over the back of the chair. “I’ve been burned by that assumption already. A tattoo artist was murdered recently and the killer has gone on to stalk pregnant women in Low Town. A blood spell revealed that the killer was actually a woman.”
“Putting aside the fact that you’re doing magic that you shouldn’t be,” Gideon said with a weary sigh. He pinned me with what I’m sure he thought was a threatening glare, but it just didn’t work anymore since I was now using magic in his presence to serve the Towers. The whole situation had become too damned complicated to worry about Gideon hauling my ass in for illegal magic use.
“That is a bit surprising,” he continued after I gave the required nod indicating that the warning had been received. “Women tend to commit crimes of passion. Stalking is methodical and premeditated. That’s very . . . unusual.”
“So is the tattoo that has pushed her over the edge.” I checked one last time to make sure that my wand was properly secured in the holder on my left wrist and easily accessible through my shirt sleeve. Taking a deep breath, I pulled in a little bit of magical energy to put a charge in the charms and spells woven into the garments. A low level hum surrounded me for a second, but unlike the wave that hit earlier, this was comforting because the resonance matched the energy that came from my own soul.
“Let’s do this,” I said, expelling a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding.
Gideon said nothing, his expression remaining grim. He put a hand on my shoulder and the world turned dark. There was a slight shifting sensation as we traveled the miles separating Low Town from Charlotte, North Carolina. It lasted only a couple of seconds before we were standing in bright sunlight on the edge of a park. Screams and panicked cries echoed through the still winter air. At first I expected to be faced with the killer creating ugly magical waves, but then my eyes focused on the people rushing away from the park, looks of fear and hatred clouding their faces as they scrambled to put more distance between them and us.
“Do you get used to it?” I asked softly, unable to tear my eyes from the frightened people. Moments ago, they had been walking their dogs and children through the park on a sunny, mild winter Monday.
And then the Towers appeared, reminding them that they were vulnerable to a higher, darker power that could strike them dead in a heartbeat.
“I stopped worrying about them because I had bigger problems. Just like you do.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. He was right. I did have enough problems on my plate. I didn’t need to worry about what other people thought, particularly when I’d never see them again. “Any new clues as to who is doing this or why?”
“No, not yet, but I’m