dumped the books on the sofa and made it a shrine.
Yellowed newspaper clippings from the Silver Stag case were taped to the wall in chronological order.
Layers of brittle tape curled, as if this mural had been taken down and put up many times over the years and the artist didn’t want to risk damaging the paper further. The fae presses had the most extensive coverage, but the major para newspapers—all magicked to appear blank to humans—had run the story.
Candids of Clay and me from those days filled spots here and there on the wall, but the bottom row…
For a moment, my heart forgot how to beat, and my blood turned to ice water in my veins.
Those photos were recent, taken within the last few weeks. If I had to date them, I bet I would find they were shot in the time since the first victims were found. The wards kept humans from seeing Colby, but paras could pick her out fine. The killer had taken a keen interest in her based on this spread.
There were dozens of photos of her. Just her. Her face. Her wings. Her legs. The rest of the mural might have been an afterthought compared to his dedicated study of her. Maybe he wanted to consume the one soul to escape the Stag and thus prove his superiority over his idol?
But how? How did he know about her? No one knew about Colby. She was my best kept secret.
The only way he could have discovered her existence was if…he was there.
The night she died.
The night I saved her.
The night I damned her.
“I have to go.” I stumbled back and fell onto the stairs, unable to pry my gaze from the collage. “Now.”
“Come on.” Asa helped me stand then guided me up into the cabin. “I’ve got you.”
“I called the Bureau.” Clay wrapped an arm around me. “They’re sending another team to handle this.”
“I’m calling in Malone,” Asa announced. “I want his input on this scene versus the previous ones.”
Our newest CI, criminal informant, could tie this case up for us with a bow. I just struggled to care.
All I could see was my first good look at Colby. All I could hear was her broken voice begging for my help.
I promised to protect her, keep her safe, and I was failing at the only job I ever had that mattered.
“This was a trap.” I blinked to clear my eyes, and tears poured over my cheeks. “She’s—”
“Shh.” Asa embraced my other side. “Not here.”
Forced to keep a wary eye out for the killer, we paced ourselves, causing the trek back to the SUV to take an eternity.
None of us spoke until the SUV’s tires hit the main road.
“This was a trap,” I repeated my earlier words. “He lured me away from home to clear a path to Colby.”
The ward blink and the security notifications took on sinister implications that twisted my stomach.
“Who is this guy?” Clay pounded a fist into his open palm. “Why fixate on the Silver Stag? Why Colby?”
I recognized the attempt to distract me for what it was, but I was happy to embrace it.
“The Stag had no family. No friends.” I reached back in my memory for those details. “He was a ghost.”
“Not a ghost.” Clay grunted. “An outlier. He lived off the grid with minimal social interaction. His victims were taken from big box stores. He moved around a lot so as not to draw attention to himself. He had at least forty-eight kills under his belt before he took the last group. We may never know the grand total.”
“We got lucky that Colby was a type one diabetic. She got hypoglycemic at the drop of a hat.” How times had changed. She lived on sugar now. “She wore a medical alert bracelet her parents had imbued with a locator spell so that if she had an episode outside the house, they could find her. We followed it right to him. He was in the process of transforming the girls for the hunt. Two of their souls were already outside their bodies, wrapping them in his chosen form. He consumed them while I hammered at his ward.”
Rage had consumed me, not over the girls’ deaths, those hadn’t affected me then, but at my inability to beat him at his own game. No wonder, with all the souls he had devoured over the centuries of his life.
But I had Grandfather’s voice ringing in my ears, the phantom agony of his cane striking