The trucker’s buddy said he’d seen a dead cat, too. You couldn’t have a black mass without a dead cat. Or so said common wisdom. The truth was that cats—or sacrifice of any kind—had nothing to do with a real satanic black mass.

I searched the room, but found no sign of cats. I did, however, find a pile of rags in the corner. Black rags.

I reached down and grabbed an edge. It wasn’t rags, but a huge sheet of black fabric. Other pieces lay beneath it, some black, some white, one red. The piece in my hand seemed like some kind of cape.

Something dropped from the fabric as it unraveled and landed with a dull thump. I glanced down and saw a hand. A human hand, pale in the dim light, the severed stump nestled in the fabric.

A creak sounded behind me. I wheeled as a shadow slunk from the hall. My fingers flew up in a knockback spell before I could think. A gasp as the figure flew back. Shoes scuffled, a door banged, and a man said, “In here!”

I backed up to the wall and cast a cover spell just as two men burst through the door. One was Cody Radu. The other was the younger officer.

The cop looked around. Cody passed him, circling the room. I shifted my gaze to the pile of cloth in the corner. When I’d dropped the cape, it had settled over the hand. Two curved fingers still peeked out.

Cody walked right past me, then planted himself in front of the pile.

“There’s no one here, Mr. Radu,” the cop said.

“Bill saw a girl sneak in the back,” Cody said. “He flagged me down as I was leaving the post office ... not five minutes after that private-eye chick walked by. And someone opened the lock on the door.”

“Okay, but there’s no one here now. I don’t know what you expect me to do, sir.”

“I expect you to earn what I pay you. I expect you to protect my interests, and as the owner of this building, this is one of my interests.”

“Okay but ...” The young officer turned, surveying the room. “There’s nothing here to steal.”

“It’s my property. That’s all that matters. I want a new lock on the door and drive-bys every two hours. If you see that lock broken again, you call me.”

“Yes, sir.”

They left. I cast my sensing spell. The building was empty.

So Cody Radu was paying off one of the local cops. That was definitely something to keep in mind, but right now, I was more interested in that severed hand.

I crouched and gingerly peeled back the cape covering the hand. The hand was fresh, no sign of decay. The skin shone unnaturally. Preserved?