Chapter ONE - Weebly

half expected her to gloat at the apparent failure of his
spell, but she merely continued to stare at the still form
on the slab and rubbed her arms to keep warm.
“Well, that was damned peculiar,” Ethan said
eventually.
She shot him a disapproving look. But instead of
chiding him for his oath she said, “You expected more
to happen.”
“Aye.” Ethan thought about trying the spell a second
time, but he didn’t think Bett would stand for it. He also
didn’t expect that it would make any difference. The
killer had gone to great lengths to mask the nature of his
—or her—conjuring, something Ethan hadn’t thought
possible.
This conjurer possessed skills that Ethan couldn’t
fathom, much less match. Where had he—she?—come
from, and what had brought such a cursed presence to
Boston?
Bett had been watching him, and now she said,
“There’s blood on your shirt.”
Ethan glanced down at the stain. “It’s from last
night. And it’s not mine.”