Did the man ever relax?

The Mave settled behind her desk, waving a hand to the two chairs opposite her. “Have a seat.”

A command despite the polite tone. Duncan waited for Callie to perch on the nearest chair before taking his own seat, bracing himself for the latest disaster.

“Has something happened?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

The Mave wasn’t the type to invite people into her office for chitchat.

“I received a message from your chief this morning,” the powerful witch said in tones that revealed nothing.

Duncan frowned. Why hadn’t Molinari contacted him directly?

“What did she say?”

“I think you should view it for yourself.” The Mave reached to pick up a remote lying on her desk and pressed a button.

Immediately the light dimmed and flickering images appeared on the far wall.

At first there was nothing to see but the dim shadows that filled an empty house.

No, not a house.

A mansion.

One of those cold, sprawling places that looked beautiful in photographs, but had to be as uncomfortable as hell to try and live in.

So what was the deal? A big house with a lot of fancy artwork wasn’t that uncommon, even in Kansas City.

About to demand an explanation, he was halted when the security system shifted to a camera displaying the front yard, obviously set on motion detectors.

Duncan sucked in a sharp breath as he watched a woman with long chestnut hair and a slender build boldly striding onto the porch.

She was no longer naked and she was standing upright instead of being sprawled on her kitchen floor, but there was no mistaking that it was Leah Meadows.

“Is that . . .” He shuddered, the name sticking in his throat. He’d heard a hundred victims tell him that their blood ran cold. Until this minute he’d never actually experienced it for himself. “Holy shit.”

“Leah,” Callie breathed for him, her hands clutching the arms of her chair.

He resisted the urge to reach out and lay his hand over her clenched fingers. “Where is she?” he instead demanded.

“Mission Hills.”

That explained the McMansion. The upscale neighborhood was south of the city and populated with the swankiest of the swanky.

Callie leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she studied Leah placing her hand on a small screen.

“What’s she doing?”

“Disarming the security system,” Duncan absently responded, almost missing the significance as she turned to push open the door and stepped inside the house. Through a fog of horror he watched as the young, beautiful girl walked around as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Christ. Was it possible she was an empty shell being used as a puppet by some psycho necromancer? “That’s it.”

The Mave sent him a small frown. “What?”

“That’s the reason the ...” He struggled for the right word. The bastard wasn’t a diviner like Callie. He was the bogeyman the norms feared. “Necromancer chose Leah.”

“Of course,” Callie gasped as she easily followed his logic. “She could pass through security.”

The Mave nodded, her expression unreadable as they all turned back to the images flickering on the wall. The camera angle shifted to follow Leah as she moved through the house, her movements chillingly fluid considering she was a corpse. She was walking across a long living room when another form, this one a male, entered the room.

“Busted.” Duncan unconsciously leaned forward, taking a swift inventory of the newest player. An aging white male who moved toward Leah like a peacock. Puffed out chest, strutting walk. All he was missing was tail feathers to spread. Pompous dick. “This should be interesting.”

They watched in silence as there was an exchange. There was no sound, but they didn’t need to hear the conversation to know that the man wasn’t happy. At least not at first. There was a short tête-à-tête, then clearly reassured, the man was shoving his hand under Leah’s stretchy little top.

“A little too interesting,” Callie said with a grimace.

“Keep watching,” the Mave coolly commanded.

The zombie-Leah flirted with a disturbing ease before she turned to dash into what looked like an office. There was more flirting. But, even as Duncan felt a burning fury at the thought the mysterious necromancer was going to allow the ultimate defamation of Leah’s body, the young female was moving to stand directly in front of her lover, her necklace beginning to glow.

“What is that?” he muttered.

The words had barely left his mouth when the man jerked backward in shock, his skin ripping open like it was being torn from the inside.

“An amulet with a powerful spell,” the Mave answered.

“This is . . .” Duncan shoved his hand through his hair, his stomach threatening revolt as the man turned gray and began to flake away like a smoked cigar. “Fucking crazy,” he breathed. “Men don’t turn into ash. And dead women aren’t supposed to be walking around town.”

“No, they’re not,” the Mave said, her voice crystal hard with an anger she kept hidden behind her mask of smooth composure. “Which is why we’re going to put a halt to whoever is responsible.”

Yes. Yes he was.

Being a stubborn ass who refused to admit he was in over his head was actually a bonus in his job.

“Who’s the decomposed corpse?”

“A Mr. Calso.”

Duncan frowned. The name was vaguely familiar.

“A high-blood?”

“What’s left of him is being brought to our medical facility,” the Mave said. “We’ll soon know.”

Duncan glanced toward the witch in surprise. “The chief signed off on you taking the remains?”

The Mave shrugged. “Mr. Calso is a prominent figure in the norms’ financial world. She didn’t want to risk the PR disaster of having what’s left of his body disappearing from her morgue.”

Duncan snorted. “Yeah, not to mention the hysteria if a man who is supposed to be dead is seen at the country club.”

“I don’t think he’ll be walking anywhere, but yes, that was a concern,” the woman smoothly agreed.

“What is she stealing?”

Callie’s abrupt question had Duncan returning his attention to watch as Leah turned a stone vessel upside down and allowed a small metal object to fall into her open palm. Copper? Bronze? Impossible to say at a distance.

“A good question,” he muttered. “It looks like a coin.”

“It was locked in a hidden safe so it must be rare,” Callie pointed out.

“Maybe,” Duncan agreed. “But so is the Picasso hiding the safe and the Matisse statue on the mantel.” He pointed toward the small bronzed statue of a woman, belatedly realizing that three sets of eyes were regarding him with varying degrees of astonishment. “What? I’m not a complete barbarian. I like art.”

“What’s your point, Sergeant O’Conner?” the Mave prodded.

“The robbery wasn’t about money. Could the coin have powers?”

“Any item can be a focus for magic,” the Mave answered. “But if you desired true power it surely makes more sense to steal a witch.”

Duncan blinked. “Can a witch be stolen?”

“Can the dead walk?” the Mave smoothly countered.

“Touché.” Duncan’s lips twitched. The Mave had a subtle sense of humor. Unexpected and no doubt lethal to the poor fool who ever thought he could claim this woman. “And speaking of the dead, did anyone notice Leah after she left the house?”

“That’s your territory,” she informed him without hesitation.

“I suppose it is.” He pulled out his phone to start making notes. What made him a good cop were his instincts and his hidden talent. What made him a great cop was his acceptance that ninety percent of his job was dull, old-fashioned legwork. “We’ll need to canvas the neighborhood to see if anyone noticed how she arrived or left. We also need to find out more about Calso and his mysterious coin.”

“Your chief said to tell you she would meet you at Mr. Calso’s house,” the Mave said, pressing a button to allow the early morning sunlight to return to the room.

Duncan turned to glance toward Callie. “Are you going to join me?”

“Not yet.” She furrowed her brow, clearly debating how she could best use her talents to help. “I think I should try to discover the identity of the necromancer.”

His lips parted in denial only to snap shut as he met the glittering sapphire gaze.

She was clearly waiting for him to make a jackass out of himself and try to forbid her to put herself at risk. Maybe she even wanted him to annoy her so she’d have a legitimate reason to keep him at a distance.

Thankfully, he hadn’t been plagued by a gaggle of older sisters for nothing.

Swallowing his impulsive words, he managed a tight smile. “Where will you start your search?”

“Russia,” Fane announced from the corner.

Chapter Fourteen

Zak had time to shower and return to the main part of the house when Tony returned with Leah’s body and the coin.

Not surprising, the henchman was barely functioning, his human brain unable to process what he’d witnessed. That, of course, didn’t keep Zak from sending him off to dispose of Leah’s body. What did it matter where he took the corpse, just so long as it was far enough that it couldn’t be traced back to this house?

Now he sat in his office and studied the tiny object that he’d waited three hundred years to hold in his hand.

It didn’t look like it could offer him the power he’d been promised. Less than two inches in diameter, it was paper thin and tarnished to a blue green. It might have been mistaken for a piece of trash if not for the odd, winged bird etched into the metal.

Rubbing his finger over the ancient artifact, Zak felt the gnawing sensation in the dark pit of his heart.