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of a gleeful spectator.
    With effort, I held back another choke at the word
spell
. Sweat prickled under my arms. In my heavy coat, the room felt stuffy and hot. Gripping the back of the office chair in front of me, I looked down at the beady, black eye of the snake on the back of my hand. “So, uh, anyway,” I said, my eyes still glued to the snake. “Thing is,” I continued. “That body you brought in, the necromancer? Well, he got up and walked away.”
    I looked up when Jones swore under his breath. His fist crumpled the edge of the map he’d been consulting.
    His partner seemed surprised by his reaction. “We should have expected something like this. This is why we need a magically aware person in the coroner’s office. I’ve been saying that for years.”
    “There isn’t a huge pool to choose from, is there?” Jones snorted. “This is just great.” With effort, he released his death grip on the paper. Smoothing it out, he looked at me. “He walked out? Are you saying the necromancer is still alive?”
    “I was halfway through the autopsy. His liver was in the scale. I don’t know how he could be.”
    “Well, then, how did he walk out?” Jones pursued.
    Holding back a hysterical giggle with effort, I offered lamely, “Through the door?”
    Jones failed to see the humor. “I meant, by what magic?”
    I swallowed hard.
    Stone put a hand on her partner’s elbow, as if holding him back. In reality, he hadn’t moved any closer to me, but I cowered as if he loomed over me. “I don’t think she knows, Spense,” she said calmly.
    “Right,” he said, letting out an exasperated breath. “You’d better start at the beginning.”
    He gestured for me to take a seat. Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out the kind of notebook detectives always had in the movies. He stole a pen from the cup on the desk. “Tell us what happened.”
    Jack started to park his butt on the edge of a nearby desk, as though intending to settle in to listen to my story. Officer Jones gave him a sharp look. “Why don’t you fetch our guest a cup of coffee, Jack?”
    Jack’s crinkled nose clearly said “why don’t you do it yourself,” but his mouth managed a very terse, “Certainly. Do you take milk or sugar, miss?”
    I smiled at the incongruous image of this nose-ringed, leather-jacketed, scruffy man playing butler. My stomach growled at the thought of coffee, but the back of my throat still burned from my recent bout of nausea. From an industrial coffeemaker in the corner of the room wafted the aroma of stale, burnt coffee, so I waved away the offer. “I’m fine, thanks.”
    “At least let me take your coat,” Jack offered, still playing Goth butler.
    Considering how much I’d been sweating with all this talk about magic, I happily agreed.
    He stood up and held out a hand, like a gentleman.
    I shrugged out of my coat. When I gave it to him, ourfingers brushed. My tattoo squeezed sharply. I gasped and broke contact. My skin buzzed angrily, and I cradled it to my chest gingerly. Jack jumped back, just as startled. The coat fell to the floor in a heap.
    “Bloody hell!” Jack shook his hand out like he’d been zapped by a joy buzzer hidden in my palm. Then his eyes zeroed in on the tattooed arm I had pressed against my chest protectively. He pointed with his uninjured hand. “What’s that?”

FOUR
    All eyes focused like lasers on the snake tattoo on my arm. None of them seemed to approve. In fact, Officer Jones seemed disgusted to the point of hostility. His fingers strayed to his gun.
    Was he going to shoot me for having an ugly tattoo?
    Stone backed up a step. It was less a gesture of fear than one making ready for a fight.
    In fact, the entire office hushed. All eyes turned toward me and I heard whispers of, “Maleficium.”
    “Is that what I think it is? What’s your game?” Jack demanded, moving in closer, as if protecting his colleagues from me. “This is natural space. You trigger any kind of maleficium