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  “Good.”

  “I want to know about their lubricant usage!” Loch demanded impatiently.

  “I’m sure they didn’t call to talk about lube,” Sloane drawled.

  “They might have!” Loch argued. “I’ve also been thinking that Uncle Gordoth should change his name. Seeing as how he’s been touched many times now by Chase, the ‘Untouched’ makes no sense.”

  “Loch, we can talk about that later—”

  “I would like to suggest Gordoth the Slut.”

  “Yeah, no. I don’t think he’s gonna go for that.” Chase cleared his throat to stifle a laugh. “Do you remember the whole thing with the Salgumel cultists maybe increasing their bullshit ’cause they got an eyeful of Merrick and Loch doin’ their godly thing when we saved Ollie?”

  “Kinda hard to forget,” Sloane replied. “We were actually just talking about it.”

  “Well, we think it’s going down.”

  Sloane exchanged a worried glance with Loch. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s two registered Sagittarian covens in Archersville now. Both formed in the last month. One is led by some fuckhead named Ronald Tip, the other by a guy named Gerard Ziol.”

  “Ziol? Why do I know that name?”

  “He’s a big-time fancy Sage scholar from the West Coast, and he specifically traveled here to start up a coven. Was on TV fightin’ last week with the Lucian church about that damn tree.”

  “The Tree of Light.”

  “What’s that?” Loch whispered loudly.

  “It’s this big tree that they say magically popped up in the city park,” Sloane explained. “Just came out of nowhere, bam, full-grown tree where there wasn’t one.”

  “Ah! A Xenish Sprig!” Loch exclaimed.

  “Huh?”

  “They appear when the veil between worlds has been torn. They glow like white fire and have immense magical power.”

  “This is just… a tree. I’ve seen it. It doesn’t glow.”

  “Oh. Perhaps it’s broken.”

  “Well,” Chase said, “Ziol seemed to think it was one of those magical Xena tree things, and the Lucian church said it was a gift from the Lord of Light.”

  “Pffft.” Loch sneered. “The Lord of Light is a mortal fabrication. Therefore, the tree must be a Xenish Sprig.”

  “Whatever the fuck it is, it’s about to get fuckin’ bulldozed. They’re expanding the playground, and that tree is gonna get real friendly with a wood chipper.”

  “I saw people protesting it on the news.” Sloane frowned. “I didn’t realize they were Sages.”

  “Not all of them are. That’s the problem. I got two groups of idiots who want the same damn thing, but one is Lucian and the other is Sagittarian. Fun fact, they don’t get along very well. One of the guys from the coven threatened to kill this Lucian priest, and then some of the Lucian guys threatened to kill the Sages right back.”

  “Well, that’s not good.”

  “It is exceptionally not good because Deacon Thomas Hills, the Lucian priest in question, was murdered yesterday,” Merrick’s grumpy voice interjected. “We are looking for the member of the coven who made the threat, but we have not been able to locate him.”

  “And it gets worse,” Chase said. “While we’re trying to find our suspect, turns out he was real close with Ziol, so we go over there to see what’s up. Guess who else is dead.”

  “Ziol.” Sloane’s heart sunk. “So, a Lucian and a Sagittarian priest have both been murdered?”

  “Yup. Within hours of each other. Looks like Ziol was killed first, then the Lucian guy.”

  “Someone retaliating? You think the Lucian was payback for Ziol being killed?

  “Lookin’ like a very strong maybe, but that’s not why I called you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Me and Merry are here at Ziol’s house, and, well, we got some goo.”

  “Goo?” Sloane’s stomach sloshed. “As in, the godly kind of goo only the gods leave behind?”

  “That’s the one. As if that wasn’t freaky enough, Ziol has got research notes all over the fuckin’ place about Salgumel. Looks like he was trying real hard to find a way to wake him up. So, yay that he’s dead, I guess, but uh, he has a whole coven of followers who might all be on the same ‘let’s wake up Sally boy and end the world’ train.”

  “Shit.” Sloane’s stomach kept churning. “It could be the cult all over again.”

  “Yup.”

  “Uh, any leads yet?”

  “We ain’t got shit for who killed Ziol other than the mystery goo, but our suspect for the deacon is primo. It’s this kid named Nathaniel Ware—”

  “Hey!” Sloane’s eyes widened. “That’s our new case! His sister says he hasn’t been home in almost a week!”

  “We believe the sister is responsible,” Loch chimed in.

  “He probably ain’t been home because his crazy little ass has been at these stupid tree protests,” Chase drawled. “He’s the one who screamed he was gonna kill the damn deacon, and we got him on a security camera outside fleeing the crime scene.”

  “Did his sister mention anything unusual about his behavior?” Merrick was now on the line. “Anything at all that might be useful?”

  “Nothing that would lead me to think he decided to go murder a priest,” Sloane replied. “Missing for two weeks, didn’t come home after work one day and, no offense, but she didn’t seem to think the police were looking that hard for him.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

  “We will confirm it, but I do not believe any missing persons case was filed for Mr. Ware,” Merrick said carefully. “The sister may not be being honest with you.”

  Loch waved his spatula triumphantly.

  “Huh. Weird.” Sloane tried not to smile at Loch’s ensuing victory dance. “Well, we just got the case yesterday. I haven’t even met with her yet. We just talked on the phone.”

  “You got time to swing by here?” Chase asked.

  “Yeah. Not meeting her until noon. Text me the address and we’ll come right over. I’m guessing Milo is there with you?”

  “Yeah. He’s here. He’s gettin’ samples and all that, ahem, off the record. See you guys when you get here.”

  “Be there soon. Later, guys.” Sloane hung up and groaned. “Great. Our missing person who wasn’t actually missing is now missing, and he’s also a murder suspect.”

  “And his sister is a big, fat liar,” Loch said smugly, plating the contents of the pan with the utmost precision and care.

  Sloane sipped his juice thoughtfully. “It’s such a weird thing to lie about. Why tell us the police weren’t doing anything when she hadn’t even filed a report?”

  “She is clearly a criminal mastermind.”

  “I still can’t believe there’s a real coven here in Archersville. Do you know how much I got made fun of for being a Sage when I was little? It was horrible.”

  “Why would anyone do that?”

  “Because no one thinks you’re real, and kids are dicks.” Sloane sighed. “I guess I should be happy that people are coming back to the old ways, but… I don’t know if it’s for the right reasons.”

  “Ah, yes. Are they actually hearing the call of the gods, or do they want to awaken my father and be a part of ending the world?”

  “Yeah, that.”

  Loch took a dish towel and wiped the edge of the plate. “I do not know, my sweet mate. It is troubling.”

  “Like this kid, Nathaniel. Was he a serious convert, or did he get sucked into Ziol’s bullshit?”

  “We can ask him when we find him if you’d like.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know if knowing would make me feel any better.”

  “Well, do you know what will?” Loch wagged his eyebrows.

  “I swear, if you say mating….” Sloane grinned.

  “That’s obvious. No, I was going to say breakfast!” Loch proudly set the plate of eggs in front of Sloane. “Behold!”
>
  “Wow!” Sloane was impressed. The eggs were fluffy and bright, the plating was flawless, but there was something off about the smell. “What, uh, what did you season these with?”

  “Salt, pepper, and garlic.”

  Sloane’s stomach sloshed again. He knew Loch had worked hard on preparing this meal for him, and he took a big bite despite his gut’s warning.

  That was a mistake.

  “What’s wrong, my sweet mate? You do not look well. Are these jostled bits of unborn birds not palatable?”

  “Loch, it’s just, erp… oh gods.” Sloane slapped his hands over his mouth and prayed to every deity he could think of that he made it to the bathroom in time.

  He did, but barely.

  Loch hovered near the door, frowning as Sloane shoved his head down into the toilet. He patiently waited for him to finish before asking, “I take it that means no?”

  “Definitely no,” Sloane wheezed. “A really big no.”

  Chapter 2.

  AFTER CLEANING up and opting to nibble on some crackers with another splash of divine nectar, Sloane felt confident enough to leave without puking again.

  “I am sorry the eggs were so offensive,” Loch was saying as they drove over to the crime scene. “I measured the garlic with my heart, and I thought it would please you.”

  “It’s okay,” Sloane promised. “Really. You know I love your cooking.”

  “I must be able to give you proper sustenance.”

  “Microwave me some chicken soup.”

  “Processed food?” Loch sneered. “Never again.”

  “Not even frozen breadsticks?” Sloane grinned, pausing at a light to eye Loch.

  Loch thought it over before conceding, “There may be some exceptions.”

  Sloane chuckled. “I think it’s very sweet you want the absolute best for me and the baby. Maybe we should do the nursery in purple, then, since that’s Great Azaethoth’s color, huh?”

  “Although my great-great-great-grandfather is the most powerful of all the gods, he is not the best. That would be me.”

  “Do you have a color?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “Purple, obviously.”

  “We still need to think of names,” Sloane said, hiding a fond smirk. “And before you ask me, I’m still not sold on ‘Azaethoth the Lesser Junior’.”

  “Fine. What pitiful mortal names did you have in mind?”

  “I’d honestly like to name them after my parents. Daniel for a boy or Pandora for a girl. Maybe just for middle names, I don’t know. I want them included somehow.”

  Loch’s expression softened, and he reached over to take Sloane’s hand. “If that’s truly what you desire, I would be happy to honor your wishes.”

  “Really?” Sloane beamed.

  “I think Daniel Azaethoth the Lesser Junior sounds lovely.”

  “Perfect.”

  Ziol’s house was a modest two-story home with a very tidy front yard currently full of police officers when they arrived. Sloane parked where he could, in between two cruisers off to the side, and took a deep breath.

  “Okay,” he said. “Are you ready?”

  “Of course I am.” Loch cocked his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I wanna make sure you know it’s time to behave and be a normal boring mortal.”

  “Yes,” Loch groaned. “Sometimes I wonder if you actually trust me.”

  “I do trust you. You just have this bad habit of doing things that make me not want to.”

  “Hmmph. That is almost certainly not true.”

  Sloane smiled at Loch expectantly.

  “Okay, so there have been a few times my judgment may not have been perfect.” Loch leaned over to kiss Sloane’s cheek. “I promise, husband, that I will behave.”

  “Thank you.” Sloane got out of the car to head into the house with Loch, but an officer stopped them at the front door.

  “Can I help you, gentlemen?” he asked, glancing between Sloane and Loch warily.

  “We’re here to see the murdered corpse and render our expert opinions,” Loch replied.

  “Could you please let Detectives Merrick and Chase know that Sloane Beaumont is here?” Sloane asked, smiling politely.

  “Sure.” The officer frowned but stepped inside the house.

  When Sloane was fairly sure no one was looking, he elbowed Loch.

  “That’s assault!” Loch declared.

  “Stop it!” Sloane hissed. “You can’t say that with a bunch of cops!”

  “They will arrest you, and you’ll have our egg baby in prison. It will be very sad.”

  “Loch, you promised you’d behave!”

  “Fine, I will drop the charges.”

  “Hey!” Chase popped up at the door with a big grin. He was a big pasty redhead, and he had tidied up his once slovenly ways quite a bit since he’d started dating Merrick.

  It wouldn’t have been unusual for Chase to show up for work with two different shoes on before. Today his suit was sharp and pressed, and his long hair was brushed neatly back beneath his ever-present fedora.

  “Come on in,” Chase said. “Merrick is waiting upstairs. You guys doin’ okay?”

  “Sloane assaulted me,” Loch whispered defiantly.

  “You probably deserved it.”

  Sloane snickered while Loch complained the entire way upstairs about rude mortals. What Sloane saw of the house seemed normal: clean, tidy, and lots of books.

  Merrick was waiting for them in a large and cluttered master bedroom. It was full of more books and papers, some of them in fancy glass cases locked with magical seals or thick locked frames up on the wall. There was a connecting bathroom and no immediate signs of foul play.

  “Here we are,” Chase announced. “Scene of the crime.”

  “Hello, Uncle,” Loch greeted Merrick. “You’re looking well.”

  Merrick was a handsome black man with bright blue eyes, and he was impeccably dressed in a black suit. He allowed himself a small smile as he said, “You as well, Azzath.”

  “Hey, Merrick.” Sloane waved.

  Merrick awkwardly waved back.

  “They’ve already taken the body away, but we found him in here.” Chase gestured to the bathroom.

  The bathroom was spacious, with a large tub and a walk-in shower. A long, thin window ran along the top of the adjacent wall, and neatly arranged toiletries lined the sink. There was blood splatter on the tile inside the shower and a large puddle right outside it on the floor.

  Sloane cautiously pulled the shower curtain out of the way to peek inside with a perception spell, but he didn’t see anything of interest.

  “The drain is filthy,” Loch observed.

  “Noted.” Sloane smirked and kept looking around.

  There were wards of protection over the window, but they appeared to be intact.

  “How was he killed?” Sloane asked.

  “Shot,” Chase replied. “Good ol’ thirty-eight caliber.”

  “But you guys are magical enforcement, not homicide. Are you keeping the case?”

  “Yup. Check this shit out.” Chase grinned. “Doors were all locked from the inside. Same protection wards on the windows and all the doors were also on him. None of them were broken except the one we busted to get inside.

  “We found Ziol buck naked, facedown right there. Bullet entered his nose and came out the top of his head. Weird angle, right? But not so weird if he was in the shower with his head back, rinsing his hair out. It lines up with someone possibly shooting him from that tiny-ass window.”

  “But the window isn’t broken.”

  “And the shower was bone-dry when we got here.”

  “So, why would he have been holding his head back like….” Sloane smirked. “Okay, fine, now I know why it’s magical. Because it doesn’t make any damn sense?”

  “You remember what it’s like. Crazy weird shit going down with no physical evidence that defies explanation and m
ight be a tough case? Give it to the magic guys.”

  “And no weapon found, I take it.”

  “Nothing. So, gonna say a big no on suicide ’cause there’s no gun.”

  “Where was the, uh, goo?”

  “Most of it was on Ziol’s body. His shoulder and his head.” Chase leaned against the doorway. “Small bit here on the bathroom door and the front door.”

  “Shooting someone is kind of an odd way for a god to kill someone, though. I mean, I get a mortal opting for a gun since protection wards won’t stop a bullet, but a god?” Sloane glanced to Loch and Merrick. “You guys could just break them, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Loch replied.

  “There are a few very old wards that can guard from our power,” Merrick said. “These are not it. These do not even prevent teleportation.”

  “So a god may not even be responsible,” Sloane pointed out. “They’re not the only ones who can teleport.”

  “Yeah.” Chase shrugged. “Ziol could have been fuckin’ murdered by one of his coven members or maybe one of those very passionate Lucian dudes, but—” He held up his hand. “—we already checked them out. Nobody’s licensed for teleportation magic. Plus, nobody mortal leaves goo.”

  Anyone who used magic had to be registered and licensed for it. After testing, they would be assigned a designation based on the Lucian system of elements—air, water, earth, fire, or the divine. Divine was the most powerful and encompassed the power of all the other elements. The Sages called it starlight, and it was very rare. Sloane was registered as a starlit witch, and it allowed him to cast spells with only his hands and without actually having to speak the words.

  There were special skills that could be learned by talented witches, like teleportation, but such spells required an exclusive type of licensure. Because these magics had the potential to be dangerous and harmful to others, anyone licensed to practice them was always very closely monitored by magic enforcement authorities.

  Granted, there were rogue witches, usually Sages who didn’t like the modern Lucian system and refused to be registered, who might possibly have these spells in secret, but Chase was right—no one mortal would have left that strange magical goo behind.