Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)

“Right.” I ducked inside John’s car to shimmy out of the top. Not that I thought reversing it would real y protect me against fae magic. The fae relied mostly on glamour—a belief magic so strong, it could reshape reality, at least temporarily.

By the time I’d re-dressed, Jenson had dropped off a pair of hip waders for me. They were a thick, waterproof one-piece with suspenders and attached boots. I stepped into them, pul ing the brown material up over my clothes. They nearly reached my col arbone.

“We aren’t seriously planning to wade chest-deep, are we?” I asked as I adjusted the suspender straps.

John, who’d also suited up in a pair of waders, handed me a plastic bottle of water. “Nah. With the speed the water is retreating, we’d be in danger of getting swept away. If you sense the bodies in the deep water, we’l have to send a team out. Ready?”

I nodded and fol owed him toward the closest path into the floodplain. John col ected a couple of officers as we trekked into the forest, and I wasn’t the least bit disappointed when Jenson didn’t join us. The forest canopy disappointed when Jenson didn’t join us. The forest canopy filtered the sun, but the humidity under the trees hung heavy, making the air thick. Sweat coated my skin, and my blond curls clung to my cheeks and neck. I cracked the seal of my water bottle, but took only one long swig—no tel ing how long we’d be hiking.

“That is where the first foot was found,” John said after we’d been walking for half an hour. He nodded ahead of him to where yel ow crime tape ringed the path. “The second was found about a quarter mile farther up the path; the third a mile or more to the south. We’re not sure yet if the recent flooding unearthed shal ow graves or if the bodies were dumped farther upstream and floated into the floodplain, but with the speed the water is retreating, every passing minute increases the chance of our evidence washing away. We need to find those bodies.”

And that was my cue.

I unclasped my silver charm bracelet. Among other charms, the bracelet carried the extra shields that helped buffer the excess of grave essence always trying to drag my psyche across the chasm to the land of the dead. Of course, that was the very chasm I now needed to traverse.

As soon as the silver charms lost contact with my skin, a frigid wind lifted around me—the chil of the grave clawing at my remaining mental shields. I cracked those shields, imagining the living vines I visualized as my personal mental wal slithering apart, opening smal gaps to my psyche.

The world around me lost the rich hues of life as a gray patina covered everything. My vision doubled as I saw both the land of the dead and the land of the living. In my grave-sight, the trees darkened, withering, their thick green leaves turning brown, and the officers’ clothing decayed, the cloth becoming threadbare and moth-eaten. Under those mottled rags, their souls shimmered bright yel ow. I looked away.

Unfortunately, opening my shields exposed me to more than just the land of the dead. The Aetheric—the plane in than just the land of the dead. The Aetheric—the plane in which raw magic existed—snapped into focus around me in swirls of bril iant red, vivid blues, and every other color imaginable. The magic twisted, tauntingly close, but I ignored the raw energy. It wasn’t supposed to be visible, even with my shields open. Witches didn’t physical y interact with the Aetheric plane. It wasn’t possible. Or at least it shouldn’t have been. But I’d been able to see the Aetheric, to reach it, ever since the Blood Moon a month ago.

Being able to do something didn’t mean I should. Or that it was safe.

I ignored the colors, forcing my eyes to focus on the decaying forest as I reached out with my senses, feeling for the grave essence leaking from the dead. And there was no shortage of dead in the floodplain.

The grave essence from a dead doe reached for me like cold wind trying to cut into my skin. And to think I was hot a minute ago. Her remains were no more than fifty yards from where I stood, but I pushed my senses farther, skimming over the traces of smal animal bodies and not letting the grave essence sink into my being. I trekked deeper into the floodplain, my magic flowing around me.

The path washed out not far from where the first foot had been found, and the mud made squishing, sucking sounds under my boots until even that gave way to dark water.

Foliage, simultaneously healthy and decaying, withered as my gaze moved over it, and I hoped my attention didn’t damage the plants. I’d once crumbled a set of stairs when my powers pushed the land of the dead into reality.

“Anything?” John asked, trudging behind me.

Yeah, lots of things. Smal animals mostly. Not exactly what we were looking for. I waved him off and kept walking.

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