one’s powers never stopped. Countless families and labs kept trying to find a way to make their magic stronger, and the only way to do it was to experiment on human beings, preferably those with some magic and very little money. Sometimes that experimentation caused a cataclysmic response, twisting the bodies of the research volunteers into inhuman monstrosities. The majority died on the spot. The few who survived were no longer human, physically or mentally. They became warped.
According to the numerous articles and scientific papers I’d read, the transformation permanently altered the subject’s magic. Instead of their original powers, all their magic was now dedicated to keeping their warped bodies functioning. The constant magic drain killed them within two to three years.
No one magic-warped could have a magical talent by definition. Yet Sigourney’s killer clearly did.
Not only that, but a warped human couldn’t have pulled off this hit. It required critical thinking and performing a succession of tasks: break in, move quietly, kill the target, turn off the computer, stage the scene, set the house on fire. Nevada knew a warped woman, Cherry. Before Cherry died a couple of years ago, she’d spent her days swimming in the brackish water in a flooded part of Houston, eating fish and garbage. She couldn’t carry on a conversation for longer than a minute. If you somehow convinced, bribed, or forced Cherry into assaulting a House, she would probably crash through a window or bang on the door until she forgot what she was doing there.
Maybe it wasn’t a clawed hand. Maybe it was some sort of specialized glove. I peered at the screen.
My cell rang.
Across from me, Runa groaned. “Please answer it. My head hurts.”
I took the call.
“Greetings, Ms. Baylor,” Mr. Fullerton’s precise voice said.
I put the call on speaker. “Hello, Mr. Fullerton. I hadn’t expected to hear from you so soon.” He had told me it would take at least twenty-four hours for the DNA results.
“The official results will be available tomorrow; however, under the circumstances, I felt urgency was in order. Is Ms. Etterson present?”
“Yes,” Runa said.
“Very well. I can confirm that one of the bodies is that of Sigourney Etterson.”
As expected.
“The other body doesn’t match any of the profiles in House Etterson. It shares no similar genetic markers.”
Runa jerked upright in her seat.
“Could you please repeat that?” I asked.
“The other body isn’t Halle Etterson.”
“Where is she then?” Runa demanded.
“I don’t know. I know where she isn’t. She isn’t in the Forensic Institute’s morgue. I hope this was helpful. Ms. Baylor, Ms. Etterson, good day.”
Holy shit.
The three of us, Bern, Runa, and I, stared at each other.
Leon strode into the kitchen. He wore his bloodstained T-shirt on his head, like a turban, and his bare chest peeked through the gap of his open jacket. He was carrying a bucket of fried chicken in one hand and a bank deposit slip in the other.
“I closed Yarrow,” he said. “The three of you look like you’ve just been slapped by a ghost.”
“Neither of the bodies from the Etterson fire belongs to Halle Etterson,” Bern said.
“Wow.” Leon put the deposit slip in front of me, dropped into a chair, pulled the cardboard lid from the bucket, and fished out a drumstick.
“So, does this mean Halle’s alive?” Runa asked.
I glanced at Bern, sitting at the table, but he apparently decided to impersonate a statue from Easter Island, because all I got back was an enigmatic look. I was on my own.
“No. It means that the other body in the morgue isn’t your sister.”
“So she could be alive?”
Runa jumped up and paced around the kitchen, circling the island. She was desperate and drowning in grief. The small chance that Halle might have survived was a lifeline and she clung to it. She was irrational before, and she would be completely unpredictable now. I had to make sure she stayed put. The last thing we needed was her running out to “investigate.”
“She could be alive. If they killed her, why go through the trouble of planting a body? However, we aren’t sure where she is or what condition she’s in. Somebody went to great lengths to make sure she was officially dead. They didn’t want anyone to look for her. We have to tread carefully here. We may endanger her by our actions.”
Runa stopped pacing and stared at me. “Catalina, if there is the slightest chance that my sister is alive, we have to find her. Nothing else matters; not revenge, not finding the murderer, nothing