“Younger than you, Abraham Lincoln, but then you did die in 1865, so—.” I smirked, rocking on my heels. Scrunching my nose, I paused, allowing him time to give me his real name, but he merely smiled. “So, who is in command of the offices in Seattle?”
“If he wanted you to know, you’d know,” he stated offhandedly. “You think something inhuman killed the poor sod up the hill, and that’s why you’re really here?” Lincoln’s demeanor eased to a causal conversation while dodging the question.
Swallowing down the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all, I shook my head. “No, and yes,” I elaborated while keeping certain aspects to myself. “My father, Xavier Anderson, went missing a few days ago. It could be him, but the chances of his kidnappers murdering him and leaving the body to be found are slim. The attack felt personal, and that normally comes with a message sent back with the dead. Since they abandoned the remains in the woods with predators circling, I’m guessing this is just a supe’s killing ground.”
Lincoln’s expression softened, but only a tad. Jeffery swallowed hard before clearing his throat. He nodded toward the trailhead, and everyone holstered their weapons as Tanner’s clumsy feet smashed through the underbrush.
“As I was saying, Xariana,” the sheriff started softly. “It’s a rather grisly scene, so you need to prepare for what lies ahead.”
Tanner paused at the sight of the newcomers, slowly sliding his gaze through them before speaking. “I thought I was moving too fast, but you guys never seemed to complain about the speed. I was an Eagle Scout, so I’m fluid motion on the trail. They used to call me Eagle Lightening.” I blinked as Lincoln’s mouth jerked up in the corners.
“Follow me,” Jeffery stated, sidling closer to me while we moved into the clearing where the deceased was located. “We didn’t touch anything or move it. Your father always asked me to leave the weird shit alone, so I did. I put tape up, protecting the scene, and told our guys to stay off and away from the ground surrounding it.”
I paused at the edge of a large hexagram that circled the remains. In the middle was the charred body, its hands staked into the dirt. I didn’t even need to pass the barrier to know this wasn’t my father. Instead, this was someone who had pissed off the witches, and they’d left him out here as a sacrifice for the creatures in the forest and the carrion birds, as a warning.
Looking at the others, they cautiously moved into the circle, unable to see it beyond the spirit realm. They couldn’t tell where the candles had been, burning on each point of the hexagram. Sage still hung thickly in the air, which told me the body hadn’t been here very long. His death looked recent.
“What can you see that we don’t?” Lincoln asked, drawing my attention to where he stood, studying me closely.
“Everything,” I grunted, slowly shifting my focus to the treeline, noting the wolves waiting for their meal. They weren’t werewolves or shapeshifters, though, just a pack of hungry wolves driven here by the scent of a kill.
“Not your father, I take it?” Lincoln asked. “And my name is Lynx, or at least it’s what my friends call me.”
“Not my father, and not your name,” I returned, backing up to get a better look at the display the witches had left behind. “We’re done here, Sheriff.”
“You don’t need me to clear the area so you can figure out what did this?” he asked.
“No. I know what did this and exactly who did it.” I nodded at the wolves. “You’re finished here, too. They won’t let you take the kill out of here. He’s an offering to nature, a meal promised to them for staying away during the sacrifice. If you try to take his corpse, you have to kill the wolves. There are also birds of prey surrounding us right now, waiting for the pieces they’ll leave behind. Insects are swarming, knowing even after the birds fly off; they’ll eat. His legs were severed and placed against the knees. If you got closer, you could see his sexual organs were harvested. He trespassed against a witchling, and her sisters came for vengeance. Do not touch him, sheriff. Clear your people out, and make it look like a staff error, so those waiting on their food can eat. Whoever touches the remains not only has to deal with nature, but the witches that left him here will seek them out, too. That is precisely why one doesn’t fuck with witches. Witches don’t leave anything to chance, and nature gets what it was gifted in the end. Be it your men or this one, the forest will feed tonight. Don’t let it be your people, please,” I stated softly in warning, holding his hazel stare.
“Jesus Christ, kid,” he muttered, covering his mouth with his hand. “It doesn’t explain your father’s wallet being here.”
“It does,” I returned. “The witches knew I’d come, and they ensured it to be so. I’m here to protect you from touching that corpse. If I hadn’t shown up, you’d take it with you back to the morgue. One of your men would have died here, and I’d be at their door to enforce our laws protecting humans. It was also a message, indicating they wish to talk to me.”
“They couldn’t leave a fucking note?” he asked in frustration.
I cleared my throat and turned to the wolves, who let loose warning howls into the air. Shrugging, I took a step back from the circle, scrunching my nose.
“I speak asshole, and I’m fluent in what the fuck. Now, do as I said so that I know you are safe from harm. We’re on our way to visit some witches. I’d prefer to be reassured that you understand the gravity of what I am saying.”
“I get it, but I don’t like it, Xariana. I appear to be the biggest idiot when shit like this happens.”
“Better to look bad than be dead, wouldn’t you agree? There are lots of times that you’re the hero, too. Take the bad with the good, because life doesn’t give a shit about any of us in the end. You’ll be a hero again, and this will be forgotten. Besides, no one else wants to be sheriff of this city. You have job security.”
I turned toward Lincoln, or I guess I should call him Lynx, and nodded. “Mystery man, I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, but it honestly wasn’t. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you around. Let’s hope it’s on good terms, and that eventually, I’ll have your actual name.” I lifted my hand and rotated my finger to show my team that we were moving out. Talia needed a better way of communicating that didn’t have me hiking into the canyon to receive her message.
Chapter Fourteen
Standing outside the House of Witches, I tapped my boot over the cobblestone driveway, where I’d stood for over an hour. Talia appeared sometime later, and I lifted my head, zeroing in on the witches walking with her toward the gates.
The house they’d claimed, appeared small and had dark aesthetics to keep humans from getting too close. Gothic wrought-iron gates with massive gargoyles enclosed the exterior courtyard. Beyond that, a small Victorian cottage sat behind the giant weeping willow trees that stood guard. Delicate arches rested between rounded columns on each side that tapered into points high above, with the witch’s mark etched in the glass above the door at the entrance.
Once I stepped into the courtyard, I would cross a barrier that would reveal the house’s secret, revealing that the structure seen on the outside was a magical illusion. The inside was huge, flowing into large elegant rooms with wings that stretched out in all directions for miles and miles.