Sin's Dark Caress by Tracey O'Hara Read Free Book Online Page B

a more normal frequency. She ran the reader over the dead boy. There was some trace spell residue, but nothing dramatic enough to send the scanner into overdrive.
    The girl’s body was half hidden in the shadows, but before she got within ten feet, the thaumaturgic scanner went crazy again and the sick feeling returned, even worse than before.
    The scanner had trouble getting a fixed reading on the magic signature. Multiple colored strands twisted together and blurred as the frequency patterns intertwined across the LED readout. She’d only seen something like this once before—the other day when she attended the other murder. Even with group caste magic, the signatures usually remained different from one other, separate and distinct. But this . . . this was weird.
    And she didn’t need a piece of equipment to tell her how black the spell was. The loathsome corruption oozed out of the very air around her, making her head hurt and her stomach churn.
    Bianca dropped to a squat beside the victim’s body. A sense of recognition washed over her as she looked at the dead girl, but the light was too poor to see properly.
    â€œAnyone have a flashlight?” she called over to the others.
    Jones pulled the police issue flashlight off his duty belt and passed it to McManus, who came up and shone it over her shoulder. Some of the black hair escaped the elaborate hairstyle framing the pale lifeless face, making the bright crimson lips stand out in stark contrast. But it was the trademark violet eyes, even if clouding in death, that truly gave up the girl’s identity.
    â€œShit!” she spat.
    â€œYou know her?” McManus asked.
    â€œWhat’s the date?” she asked.
    â€œMay fifth.”
    â€œShit,” she said again, and turned around. “This is bad. This is real bad.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” he asked.
    Bianca moved away from the body. “If tonight is the fifth, then right now there’s a gathering of covens in this hotel celebrating the Age of Enlightenment for the granddaughter of Gayla Hilden—Domina of the East Coast covens.”
    â€œAnd the CEO of the Hilden Group—one of the biggest investment management corporations in the country. I know who she is,” McManus said. “What of it?”
    Bianca stood. “Well, I’m pretty sure this is the granddaughter.”

8
    The Delicate Taste of Grief
    M cManus knew that if Bianca was right, this was going to turn into a mega shit storm fast.
    He turned to Jones. “Why don’t you put young Mickey here in the back of the squad car for now and get him some coffee. I’ll be inside talking to the staff.”
    The officer helped the young man to his feet.
    â€œAnd Jones, call for more backup. Lots of it. I have a feeling we’re going to need it before the night’s out.” He turned to Bianca. “Coming?”
    â€œYou bet,” she said. “You’re really going to need my help for what comes next.”
    McManus banged on the door and it opened from the inside. The kitchen buzzed—people ran around yelling orders across the room, and delicious odors made his mouth water, reminding him that he’d forgotten to eat again.
    A jumped-up little man in a tuxedo confronted them with hands on hips. “What’s the meaning of this?”
    â€œDetective McManus.” He held up his badge. “Is there somewhere more private where we can talk?”
    â€œI’m a little busy right now. You may not have noticed, but there is a very important function going on tonight.” The man’s dismissive arrogance was really starting to piss him off.
    He leaned in close. “If you want me to shut this place down here and now, I can and I will.”
    The man pursed his lips and frowned. “Follow me.”
    McManus leaned over to Bianca and dropped his voice. “Keep an eye on this lot.”
    The tuxedoed man led him to a small office and