Forged in Fire by J.A. Pitts

rituals. I knew my blades. I also knew not to touch something that putrid. It screamed bleeder. Something that would keep the blood from clotting while the ritual was being performed. I’d read about them. Allowed for the maximum bloodletting. I’d always assumed they were rumor, but now … This had to be the real deal.
    Across the back of the murder stall, words were written. “I’m looking for you, little pig.”
    I walked back to the first stall, where the head remained, and knelt down, keeping a good distance from the ritual site. The horse’s eyes were missing. Instead, candles had been inserted into the sockets and burned down to waxy nubs.
    In the center of the macabre design was a small box. No one had touched it yet, but one of the detectives was taking pictures of it.
    There was magic here. I held my hand out, careful not to touch anything, but allowed it to hover just inside the stall.
    I could feel it, a residual taint in the air. Like when I held the honeyed blood mead Qindra had shown me. Holding the vial had allowed me to experience the electric buzz of the power.
    I wish she was here for this. I had no doubt she could throw some squiggles in the air and tell me a hundred times more than I could figure out.
    The detectives had been here awhile. There were chalk marks in several areas, where the camera guy demarcated sections of the scene. The uniformed officers stayed outside. I couldn’t blame them.
    My cell phone rang. I stood, brushed the straw and dust from my hands, and walked out of the barn. Charlie was talking with Detective Carmine, so I walked around the other side of the barn. It was Gunther.
    “Heather just got here,” he said. There was city noise in the background, so I could tell he was walking to his bike.
    “Stuart is driving out now. I asked Trisha to keep an eye on Anezka, but I asked him to bring Bub.”
    “Interesting choice,” I said, keeping an eye on Charlie and the detective. “Why, pray tell?”
    “I have certain prejudices,” he said with a chuckle. “But I see he wants what’s best for Anezka, and lately I’ve discovered he wants what’s best for you as well.”
    That was sweet. “Besides,” he continued. “He has a nose for magic and wards and such. He may see or smell something we miss.”
    “Okay, then. Cops are just wrapping up and the vet tech is here. I guess he’ll be here a while longer.”
    “We should wait until he leaves, I think. How about we all meet up someplace near there and you call me when he leaves.”
    I nodded. “Good plan. I’ll be in touch.”
    Charlie was done with the detective and was heading back into the barn with a camera around his neck and his messenger bag over his shoulder. I jogged over to catch up with him, but he stopped short and we kind of collided. He didn’t drop anything, but I juggled my phone. It hit the hard packed earth, bounced over his feet, and landed just to his right.
    “I’ll get it,” he said, bending over. Once he had my phone in his hands, he rubbed the readout with his thumb, to brush aside the dirt, then looked over at me. “Nice phone,” he said, grinning. “Seriously nineteen nineties. Do you also have a Walkman at home?”
    “Funny man,” I said, holding out my hand.
    He placed the phone in my open palm and grinned. I closed my fingers around the blocky, silver phone and looked down. For a moment, I got a clear view of a tattoo on the inside of his wrist, but he pulled away, like he didn’t want me noticing.
    “I should check on the rest of the horses,” I said, avoiding looking at his arm.
    “Good plan,” he said, lifting the camera off his chest. “I’ll get some more pictures of the remains.”
    The rest of the horses were overwrought. I counted six in the barn, but I knew there were two other barns. The paddock was empty and the gate closed. The horses were stomping and prancing around, their eyes wild with fear. They’d hurt themselves if they hadn’t already.
    One at a time,