A Vigil in the Mourning (Soulbound #4) - Hailey Turner Page 0,80
to be around Carmen when she was really leaning into her power of desire. Beneath all that was a shadow charge of electricity that spoke of the presence of a god. Patrick wondered if Ethan had put Odin in the middle of that circle, or someone else, because it didn’t feel as if a god had died here.
Patrick tightened his shields as he lowered his gun a little, staring at the sacrificial circle and wondering just what the hell sort of spell had been performed here. Despite the lingering traces of black magic, the space didn’t feel like death.
It felt more like life.
Patrick didn’t step any farther into the room, wanting to preserve the scene until the Evidence Response Team arrived. What he could see wasn’t good, and he didn’t like what it could mean.
“No one enter this room until the evidence is catalogued,” Bowden said loudly. She pointed at another agent. “Stay here and keep watch. I don’t want anyone to enter or disturb the scene.”
“Is it safe?” the man asked.
“Whatever happened here is over, but you’re not getting out of having your soul scoured clean.”
Someone pounding up the stairs made both Patrick and Bowden turn around. The panting agent who arrived on the landing waved at them. “Got a body in the wine cellar.”
“Westberg sure knows how to throw a party,” Patrick said. “Speaking of that guy, do we know where he’s at?”
“Not here,” Bowden said as they headed downstairs.
“His alibi is going to be interesting.”
Patrick was curious what sort of defense the guy would come up with to deny any involvement in whatever sort of ritual had happened in his hearth and home. Considering his platform, it wasn’t a good look politically.
They made it to the wine cellar by way of a door next to the pantry on the first floor. Wooden steps led down to a temperature-controlled cellar filled with racks of wine Patrick assumed were expensive. At the bottom of the stairs was a body burned beyond recognition, curled in the fetal position, and smelling like they’d been dead for at least a week.
Patrick made a face at the smell, motioning for everyone to get back upstairs. “We need to preserve the evidence and call in the Medical Examiner.”
“I can honestly say Westberg isn’t getting my vote,” Bowden said.
Patrick didn’t care about votes, just where the bastard was. “Call it in to the SAIC. I’m going to get an update on his whereabouts. We need to bring him in.”
He left the house and the lingering wrongness of the ritual on the third floor. He ducked his head against the wind and snow, jogging back to where Jono and Wade waited in the SUV. The engine had been turned off, but the heat charm he’d cast was doing its job when he opened the door.
“That was quick. Thought it’d be longer,” Jono said.
“Someone did a ritual of some sort, and there’s a dead burned body,” Patrick said as he yanked the door shut.
Jono handed him the car keys, and he shoved them into the ignition. “So they sacrificed someone?”
“Don’t know. The body was in the wine cellar, and the ritual happened upstairs.” Patrick took a deep breath before starting the engine. “I think they did something to Hannah.”
It was the only answer, because he couldn’t have felt the backlash in the ley lines unless he was tied to Hannah, who was the focal point of a spell.
Jono grimaced. “Can’t put that into the report.”
“Nope.”
“Any sign of Odin?”
Patrick ran the windshield wipers to clear off some of the snowfall before backing up. “Traces of a god, but I don’t know if it was Odin. Could’ve been Hel or Loki for all we know.”
“So are you done here if we’re leaving?” Wade asked.
“Weather is getting worse. I’m going to drop you guys off at the hotel while I figure out where the hell Westberg is. We need to bring him in for questioning.”
“You sure you don’t want us nearby?” Jono asked.
“You’re in Chicago. I can tap your soul from a couple miles.”
They’d worked on doing that in New York after Christmas. It was easiest when they were fighting together, but if Patrick was on the other side of Manhattan from Jono, he could still tap a ley line through Jono’s soul.
“If Westberg is a politician, will he ask for a lawyer?”
“Yeah.” Patrick frowned before digging out his cell phone and calling Setsuna. There weren’t that many people on the street in this area, not like downtown. “I might