Taliesin Ascendant (The Children and the Blood) by Skye Malone, Megan Joel Peterson Page A

Elliot.”
    At this, Harris looked up.
    “They haven’t reported it yet,” the mortician said, flustered by Harris’ expression. “They’re trying to get an ID, notify the family, that sort of thing. It’s procedure.”
    “Anything to tie him to this guy?”
    The mortician blinked. “Why would there be?”
    Harris gave him a look.
    “Well, not that anyone’s told me.”
    “How many died in the apartment fire?” Harris asked, returning his attention to the body. From the brief interchange he’d had with Simeon, there hadn’t been any discussion of fatalities, just mention that they hadn’t found anything and then a click as the call came to an abrupt end.
    After talking to the man, he’d been reminded why he was grateful to have mostly dealt with Brogan and Jamison thus far. For some of the wizard converts to Jamison’s cause, their prejudices against ‘regular’ humans obviously hadn’t been left behind.
    “Ten,” the mortician said. At Harris’ raised eyebrow, he grudgingly gestured to the bodies on the autopsy tables. “Six burned and four shot. But the burned ones show minimal traces of smoke inhalation, and no bullet wounds or other injuries, so we’re checking for drugs to see if they were unconscious before they were set on fire.”
    Pausing, the man studied the bodies. “It’s sort of sick, if you think about it.”
    Harris stared at him and the man’s pale skin flushed a splotchy pink. “Well, I mean… I mean, obviously or whatever, but–”
    “Thanks for the help,” Harris said, cutting him off. He cast a last glance to the body on the tray.
    “So is he the one you’re looking for?” the mortician asked again.
    Harris shook his head. “Not quite.”
    Without another word, he left the morgue.
    Shutting the car door behind him, he closed his eyes and then wrapped his hands around the steering wheel. Ten bodies. Eleven, counting the homeless guy who might have been one of Brogan’s men.
    Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he’d just been some poor schmuck, sleeping off his last beer or whatever.
    And then he’d gotten in the way.
    Harris looked out the window. Cars slid past and people strolled along the sidewalk. The spring weather was drifting toward summer, and pedestrians were gladly taking advantage of the renewed warmth. Fluffy white clouds dotted the blue sky and in all ways, it was a postcard perfect day.
    It took effort to force himself to breathe.
    There was a chance she’d left the city already. He had to admit it to himself. But there was an equal chance she hadn’t, and until he’d exhausted every lead, he couldn’t abandon the search. And meanwhile, she had one less ally. He knew it wouldn’t slow her down but, on some level, it was still comforting.
    Turning the key, he glanced back at the street. She’d come here for a reason, taken the old lady hostage for a reason, and burned that building for one too. There was a purpose to this place, to Monfort, to everything she’d done. And no matter what, he’d figure it out.
    He had to.
     
    *****
     
    Grimacing, Ashe opened her eyes.
    She was still in the same room. Soft pillows supported her head, and the gun remained clutched in her fist. A few lights glowed in the drop ceiling of the converted office, and the thick blanket beneath her felt uncomfortably warm.
    But nothing had changed. Despite what she wanted, nothing had turned out to be a dream.
    Same as always.
    Pushing away from the pillows, she sighed. She’d only lain down for a moment after Katherine left, just to process the chaos spinning through her head, and then… morning.
    Or several hours into the morning, she realized, glancing at the bedside table and the small clock perched there. But in spite of the time, a tray of steaming food sat waiting on the nightstand.
    She looked to the door. They’d slipped in and out of the room while she slept, replacing the food without her waking. And despite their words, repeated over and over about her safety, the