Wintermae

“Whoever ‘s doin’ this ‘s…” Mae shook her head and trailed off, unsure how to finish her sentence. Her gaze moved over to Murphy’s. “May I?” The inquiry was soft, deferring.

Mae’s hand was warm at my back as my eyes traveled around the crime scene. The slaughterhouse had been abandoned years ago, but still sported rows of hooks hanging on chains, bloodstained tables for quartering, and a large walk-in freezer. Everything was being scoured for evidence. I felt a little sick; I didn’t need to stretch out my magical senses to feel the reek of death and pain on the place.

“Hanging witches,” I muttered.

Murphy raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”

“Common misnomer,” I said. “Most so-called witches weren’t burned at the stake. They were hanged. Or drowned, though technically the ones who actually drowned were thought to be not guilty.” My mouth tightened into a grim line. “The ones that floated were the alleged witches. Because witch hunters have always been super rational.”

Murphy studied me. “You think this is related to her being a practitioner? Religiously motivated?”

I shrugged. “Just thinking out loud. She was a Paranetter, and openly self-identified as a witch. So did the other victims.” 

Murphy looked like she was about to say something, but Mae interjected and made her request. I frowned a little at her, but Murphy gave her a nod before gesturing to the forensics team that was currently at work over the body. “Can we get a little space for a minute?”

She got a few odd looks, as did Mae and I, but they backed off.

“Whoever ‘s doin’ this ‘s…” Mae shook her head and trailed off, unsure how to finish her sentence. Her gaze moved over to Murphy’s. “May I?” The inquiry was soft, deferring.

Mae’s hand was warm at my back as my eyes traveled around the crime scene. The slaughterhouse had been abandoned years ago, but still sported rows of hooks hanging on chains, bloodstained tables for quartering, and a large walk-in freezer. Everything was being scoured for evidence. I felt a little sick; I didn’t need to stretch out my magical senses to feel the reek of death and pain on the place.

“Hanging witches,” I muttered.

Murphy raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”

“Common misnomer,” I said. “Most so-called witches weren’t burned at the stake. They were hanged. Or drowned, though technically the ones who actually drowned were thought to be not guilty.” My mouth tightened into a grim line. “The ones that floated were the alleged witches. Because witch hunters have always been super rational.”

Murphy studied me. “You think this is related to her being a practitioner? Religiously motivated?”

I shrugged. “Just thinking out loud. She was a Paranetter, and openly self-identified as a witch. So did the other victims.” 

Murphy looked like she was about to say something, but Mae interjected and made her request. I frowned a little at her, but Murphy gave her a nod before gesturing to the forensics team that was currently at work over the body. “Can we get a little space for a minute?”

She got a few odd looks, as did Mae and I, but they backed off.

“Whoever ‘s doin’ this ‘s…” Mae shook her head and trailed off, unsure how to finish her sentence. Her gaze moved over to Murphy’s. “May I?” The inquiry was soft, deferring.

Mae’s hand was warm at my back as my eyes traveled around the crime scene. The slaughterhouse had been abandoned years ago, but still sported rows of hooks hanging on chains, bloodstained tables for quartering, and a large walk-in freezer. Everything was being scoured for evidence. I felt a little sick; I didn’t need to stretch out my magical senses to feel the reek of death and pain on the place.

“Hanging witches,” I muttered.

Murphy raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”

“Common misnomer,” I said. “Most so-called witches weren’t burned at the stake. They were hanged. Or drowned, though technically the ones who actually drowned were thought to be not guilty.” My mouth tightened into a grim line. “The ones that floated were the alleged witches. Because witch hunters have always been super rational.”

Murphy studied me. “You think this is related to her being a practitioner? Religiously motivated?”

I shrugged. “Just thinking out loud. She was a Paranetter, and openly self-identified as a witch. So did the other victims.” 

Murphy looked like she was about to say something, but Mae interjected and made her request. I frowned a little at her, but Murphy gave her a nod before gesturing to the forensics team that was currently at work over the body. “Can we get a little space for a minute?”

She got a few odd looks, as did Mae and I, but they backed off.