Sovereign Malpractice (Office of Preternatural Affairs Book 3)

by Voss Foster

  "Of course it was. Why wouldn't it be?" I sighed and shook my head, already sorting through what I had that would work for the middle of the Nevada desert. "Do we have word in with locals to get info on the 911 call?"

  He nodded. "No replies, but I'll keep in contact when I hear something. And make sure you take proper protection. If they're still hanging around at the crime scene, or come back…no offense meant to you or Gutt, but I'm pretty sure neither of you are as hearty as Broff."

  "Don't have to tell me twice." I cracked my neck side to side. "If Ixel says anything, we'll hear?"

  "If it's important." He jerked his head toward the glass double doors. "Zar can port you to your house if you need something, then you're on your way."

  And I headed out. Definitely long sleeves to protect from the sun. But beyond the small inconvenience of heading home just to head out again? I was thrilled at the chance to get out into the field. In spite of what all we'd been dealing with, this whole case had still carried a general malaise of "riding the desk." But a stint out into the desert to look at a murder scene? Well, I wouldn't take it if I knew I'd end up shot dead. I wasn't suicidal or anything.

  But damn it did I ever relish the idea of actually getting out and doing something outside of getting my ass handed to me and sleeping on a cot in FBI headquarters. Even if it meant getting sand in my fucking socks and dealing with the possibility of scorpions.

  And, like, maybe terrorists.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nevada was fucking hot. The air-conditioned motel Zar had dropped us off at was acceptable, but once we'd gotten a workable room squared away, Gutt ported us out and to the location.

  And Nevada. Was fucking. Hot.

  The scene was empty of anyone at this point, although a few markers had been laid out. But we'd gotten clearance to be here, so here we were. And at least at first blush, my dumb human ass didn't see anything other than sand and a clearly demarcated place where Broff's body must have lain. The troll-sized crater in the sand definitely made that a little easier to figure out, but I'd take credit for the win.

  Gutt was our main tool here, anyway. He did hand me the magical sensor, the big version this time, energy moving up from the base and flaring out in calm, even waves of green…not electricity, but it looked like electricity. It was one of the few things I could do, while Gutt worked his own magic. At a reasonable distance, so that it wouldn't interfere with the sensor.

  I made the obvious move and waved it across the place Broff had lain, at the same time looking for any physical signs of conflict. Nothing that screamed "this is where he was beheaded," and the magic sensor didn't react in that particular area. "Had to try."

  Gutt nodded. "It's entirely possible he wasn't even killed here. Just dropped here. But at the very least, we should see some signs of remote transport. Besides our remote transport, but that will be very fresh. Difficult to mistake for something the killer might have used."

  I nodded and started my sweep, watching the movement of the magic. Behind me, Gutt splayed his fingers out, collecting tiny balls of light against his fingertips. I didn't honestly know exactly what he was doing with that one, but looking for something.

  I swept for about three or four minutes before I got a blip. Instead of even waves, well-contained between the bars of the sensor, the greenish magic broke apart, clinging in two separate threads to the metal. And maybe most strikingly, it changed color. Subtly, but the green moved to more of a teal. "Gutt."

  I swept around as he walked over, and it didn't take long before I was able to zero in and start walking toward whatever source of magic we were looking at. Due west, and with each step, the magic climbed higher up the curving bars of the sensor, slipping closer and closer to blue.

  Gutt followed behind me now. "This is powerful. It's drawing magic into its space."

  After a good ten yards of walking, the blue energy arced completely off the sensor, spinning around some invisible sphere sitting in the sand, and just coiling more and more like a gleaming ball of yarn. "I think we might have found something."

  "It seems so." Gutt circled around, leaning close to examine the magic as it flowed free, collecting itself around the remnants of this spell. "I'm unfamiliar with this reaction, unfortunately, but I've seen the sensor emit magic like this before. Immense power was used here."

  "Immense like another wild Class-A roaming around?"

  "No, not quite so strong." He placed his fingers against the tendrils of energy continuing to collect. He jerked back quickly, however, and shook his hand out in pain. He pulled out his phone and took a video of the collecting light, then sent it off somewhere with a beep. "You can pull back. I sent it to Bancroft. He should have the resources to help figure it out."

  "He also has Vellius." Slowly, I lowered the magic sensor to the side, careful to make certain that the sky blue energy didn't touch me. A small rune on the bottom provided the power that let a simple human use it, and I slid that off and to the side, breaking the connection.

  "If it comes to it, yes, but he's normally reliable with just his knowledge." In answer, his phone rang. Gutt answered and put it on speaker, holding it between us. "Bancroft. You have something."

  "Extraordinary magics are more recognizable, even when they're rarely used. So yes. I have something." He sighed, his voice going to static as he did so. "It's a much stronger enchantment than the usual, but it's undeniable evidence of a golem."

  "A golem?" Gutt closed his eyes. "The implication being that a golem committed this murder?"

  "I couldn't say. I'm merely a scholar, not an agent. I wouldn't usually consider that as so much as a possibility, but given the amount of magical power present, the golem could have had more than enough power at its disposal to carry out the murder."

  "And magically burning the Hand's symbol into the sternum?"

  "It's possible, Gutt. Improbable, but there are records of golems used by various practitioners throughout history, for all variety of fine control."

  "I'm aware, but a golem that refined is exceptionally rare."

  "Yet not so rare as a Class-A appearing in FBI headquarters, no?"

  Gutt snorted, meaning that he didn't have a decent comeback to that. "A golem of all things. Just when I think there's nothing left in this world that can surprise me."

  I shrugged. "Well, to be fair, golems aren't exactly from this world. They're your kind of thing."

  "We work in the same department. If they're my kind of thing, that makes them intrinsically your kind of thing." He winked one massive, olive eye at me. "Bancroft, anything you can recall about golems in relation to the Hand, by chance?"

  "Off the top of my head? They were used a few times I know of for certain. Usually as decoys. I'd have to check records to be more certain than that. Nothing that strikes my memory as potentially murdering anyone with a golem, though it wouldn't have been beyond their power, necessarily." The line crackled as though Bancroft was shuffling something on the other end. "There is precedent for them leaving their mark in this fashion, however."

  "Carved into the bone?" Why would someone make that decision? Flesh was easier. "Does it happen to solve the entire case?"

  "Solve the case, I would say not. But during one of their early attacks in Nedelwald, they breached the first order class-B containment. Reached nearly all the way to the seals themselves before reinforcements could arrive and turn them back. However, they took hostages, and when the Kingdoms refused to negotiate, they returned the hostages. They'd scratched their symbol into the sternums of a dozen guards. Their heads were returned later."

  Either these people were playing out the Hand's greatest hits for old time's sake, or there was some message that was playing out. And frankly, I preferred the former, because the latter skirted dangerously close to the implication that this was really the Seven-Fingered Hand.

  "There is one thing to consider, given the presence of the golem." Bancroft let out a heavy sigh, and another, unidentified crackle of s
tatic came briefly over the line. "If the party involved is using golems, and golems of such a magnitude that they would induce that level of reaction from the sensors, then we unfortunately can't trust…anything. A sufficiently powerful practitioner could make a golem that would be otherwise indistinguishable from actual life to the naked eye."

  My stomach tightened at that. "A golem could be anyone?"

  "Well, not anyone literally," said Bancroft. "A golem couldn't be feasibly mistaken for someone you know well. Subtle movements, facial tics, speech patterns. Those would give away the game sooner or later. But it would be simple enough to put a new figure into the mix as a golem."

  "Great. So we know we're looking for someone we don't know."

  "The golem will have dissipated by now." Gutt shifted the phone in his grip and sighed. "It's powerful magic, and there would be no reason to keep it around after the murder. That would just be evidence. Better that it collapse back into its constituent components and be taken care of easily."

  "Is there anything else of interest on the scene?" asked Bancroft.

  "Not that I can see. But I'm a stupid human."

  "There's nothing we've found yet that isn't a part of the report we already got. You can get back to work, Bancroft. Thank you." Gutt hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket, then wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, swiping off a small ocean of sweat. "Have I mentioned that Droshheim is much colder than this? Why do humans insist on living in the desert of all places?"

  "Oh, it's a human problem? Al-Sekar doesn't exist all the sudden? We don't have entire cities that have popped up in the southwest full of stone and fire elementals?" I rolled my eyes. "At least make a better argument than that with me."

  "If I'm being bested by you, I must really need sleep after all." He rolled his shoulders back. "We'll finish the sweep, then hit the sack." He was already gathering the little lights around his fingertips again. "Hopefully we won't have to call in the field office, but I'm expecting strongly we'll need a bit more support than just the two of us."

  I didn't disagree. I headed back where I'd been and got the magic sensor back working, making sure to steer well clear of the residual golem energy we'd picked up before. There were a few other little blips over the fifteen minute sweep. Gutt and I confirmed that there had been remote transport in two locations, so most likely in and then back out. Gutt seemed utterly shocked about that, since golems weren't meant to be able to use magic at all. Remote transport was commonplace, but that didn't mean it was easy, especially through a proxy like that. Couldn't argue there. All magic sounded beyond my ability, but cutting a pair of matching holes through different dimensions sounded especially beyond my capacity to ever figure out.

  Gutt picked up some very faint residue of some sort of fire magic used where Broff had been, which…the carving had looked like it was burned into the bone, but Gutt confirming that there had been fire magic utilized meant literally burned. I just hoped he was already beheaded before they decided to take that tack. Yeah, Broff had broken into FBI headquarters and made threats and attacked, but burning down into someone's bone was a wholly different level of punishment and violence.

  I mean, so was the beheading, but I could at least imagine that was quick and clean.

  "I think we're clear." Gutt shook out his hands as though his joints had gone totally stiff. "It's not a lot, but the golem is worth looking into at least."

  "And how do we go about that?"

  Gutt sighed. "Normally I would say that we could speak with the Kingdoms, but since that's been so unreliable lately, we'll have to settle for trying to stretch Vellius even thinner, and seeing what Bancroft and Kimmy can come up with between them." With that, he waved his hand through the air, creating the nigh-imperceptible shimmer of the remote transport portal, and we both stepped through, bright, lurid colors flashing past in the brief moment were in the Hidden Kingdoms. Then it was back out to our okay motel room. Honestly, not the worst one I'd had to stay in during my time with the OPA. One good thing about being partnered with Gutt: there were always at least two beds, since sharing a bed with Gutt was a safety hazard, at least for someone my size. Or really any human.

  Gutt went to open the door, and he froze, spine stiffening. I knew him well enough to understand I probably needed my Glock out. Now. "What's the problem?"

  His voice came out hoarse, quiet. "The door is unlocked."

  Except that they auto-locked as soon as they were closed. And I'd double-checked that it was fully closed before we left for the middle of fucking nowhere. I tightened my grip around the pistol. "Plan?"

  "Cover your eyes and don't move in until I say." Gutt curled and twisted his fingers around each other as white light began to coalesce between his palms. "It's going to be loud, and it's going to be bright."

  "Magic flashbang. Got it." I moved to one side of the door as Gutt flanked along the other. I put the Glock back in my holster, squeezed my eyes shut, and pressed my hands against my ears. "Ready when you are."

  I couldn't tell if he was doing anything, if he'd even heard. But then I heard the high-pitched shriek come from behind me, only slightly muffled by my hands. It still rang in my ears when Gutt tapped me on the shoulder and I went in, drawing my gun again. The light was still fading, leaving an almost angelic glow around the edge of the room, clinging to the furniture, but at least no direct noise, merely the echo. I could see why he didn't make much use of that particular bit of spellcraft. Attracting attention usually wasn't the name of the game, and already, we had heads poking out of doorways. But nobody seemed to want to approach, which was exactly the right choice.

  Gutt and I both stepped into the room. He was readying his normal golden ring. I was scanning, looking for any sign of anything.

  The bathroom door shifted a little on its hinges. I glanced to Gutt, nodded, and moved that way, taking care to be as light on my feet as I could, looking out for runes or other obvious spellwork that could be used to set traps for us in the room. Nothing caught my attention, and Gutt didn't shout at me to stop walking, so I got all the way to the bathroom door. No sounds of heavy breathing, no obvious shifting shadows through the crack between the door and the jamb.

  Gingerly, I pushed it open with the butt of my Glock. I would have normally kicked it open, but wanted my feet both planted in case I needed to shoot or run.

  As the door swung in, my nose and lungs burned, my heartrate jumped, and the sound of blood rushing drowning out anything else that might have been going on in the room. I dove aside before I even recognized the antiseptic scent for what it was: ozone. Strong magic.

  Bright red flames licked out of the bathroom, shooting through into the main space in a thin, winding line of fire. They didn't burn anything as they whipped through the room, didn't even seem to put off any heat when they crossed too close to my cheek for comfort.

  I scrabbled back until I stood next to Gutt. "What is this?"

  He reached out his hand, and a gentle light began to draw in around his fingertips. But he just shook his head. "I don't know."

  Slowly, the flames began to coalesce, forming a floating ring of scarlet fire about three feet in diameter. Burning lines shot out from the edges, creating a pattern in the middle. A familiar pattern. Seven angular lines, all stretching out from a single conjoined point.

  The Seven-Fingered Hand.

  The flames quivered, and then they rushed toward us. I ducked, this time able to feel that they very definitely were hot now. I smelled the acridness of burning hair and patted my head to put out any potential errant flames.

  Gutt didn't duck down in time. The fire coursed over his body, immediately blistering blue skin before he tumbled back onto the bed, patting himself out. But the flames didn't linger, simply heading for the wall behind where we'd been standing. They burned there, shooting off crimson sparks for several seconds before finally settling down, the flames slowly sputtering out.

  Between the fading of the flashbang and the
dying of the flames, it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. I walked over to Gutt, looking at his burning clothing, the slightly mangled skin where the fire had touched him. "You good?"

  "I'm made of heartier stuff than I might appear to be at first glance."

  "At first glance you appear to be made of giant boulders and muscle."

  "Yes, so imagine how much heartier than that I must be." Gutt sat up, still breathing heavily enough to rock his shoulders, and cringed as he pressed a hand to the raw, purpling flesh of his burn. I saw some repairing, some calming happen, but he'd definitely need an actual healer to make any progress with it. He'd survive, though.

  I went over to the wall, still warm. The Hand's symbol had been scorched in black along the wall, stark like ink. Below, however, was something else. A series of interlocking symbols that I was smart enough to stay well the hell away from. "Gutt. Runes."

  "Norse?'

  "No, something else I don't recognize." I'd become only too capable of recognizing Norse runes early on with the OPA, but these didn't have that angular look to them, curved and swirled together too much. And honestly, even if they had been Norse, the way they overlapped was too chaotic and knotted for me to have pulled out anything useful anyway.

  Gutt marched up to the wall and leaned down close, eyes squinting, tusks protruding. He didn't touch them either, but he hovered one massive finger over the symbols as he took them in. It was only a few seconds before something clicked. Clicked enough that he frowned, anyway. "It's similar at least to how remote transport is taught to children, though obviously this is far more convoluted than anything that would be used for a child."

  "How the hell does a child read this?"

  "As I said, they don't. They read something similar." He pointed out a few specific symbols. "These indicate it's remote transport, but the rest of this…I honestly couldn't say what the other runes are for in this case. Typographic magic is not a widely studied school, and I certainly never put much stock into it.