And then there was the whole threefold law—one that said all the good a person does for another returns threefold, as does all the harm. No true Wiccan would risk hurting another, let alone killing them.
Those who did cast dark spells weren't witches. They might be sorcerers, they might be Satanists, or they might even be Charna—a name given to those who followed the darker paths of magic.
Azriel nodded. "The person behind this is someone who follows darkness. The magic is powered by blood. That is never a good sign."
A shudder ran through me. Blood magic. The worst kind. "What about the soul stealer? I know you said you couldn't see it, but were you able to see anything that might provide a clue in Handberry's memories?"
He shook his head. "No. All this man saw was a twisted, smoky essence."
I frowned. "That could describe the Aedh."
"This wasn't Aedh. They can free souls without the need for this." He indicated Handberry with a short, sharp movement of his hand that was all anger and frustration.
My frown deepened. "I was under the impression that it was tough for Aedh to take souls from flesh."
"It is, but that doesn't mean they have to resort to such force. It drains them, that is all."
Great. So we'd eliminated a possibility, but it didn't leave us a whole lot closer to the who.
"Blood magic has an inpidual taint, so did you sense it in Hanna's room?"
He shook his head. "But that death was older. Within an hour, the scent of this will be long gone, too."
"Then why can't you follow it back to its source now?"
"Because it begins and ends in this room."
Which more than likely meant some sort of transport spell had been involved. Great. Just great.