Free Grave Dance by Kalayna Price Page A

Craft.”

Chapter 5
    I poured coffee into three mismatched mugs and carried them to my “guests.” Caleb sipped his politely, but Malik clasped his mug between both hands without seeming to be aware of it. His gaze flickered around my smal apartment, never staying in one place too long. Clearly I wasn’t the only uncomfortable one.
    I owned only one chair, and I wasn’t about to invite Malik to plop down on my bed, so after handing off the mugs, I leaned against the wal . Then I stal ed, blowing on my coffee to gain an extra couple of seconds as I tried to decide how to handle the situation.
    “I’m going to guess that you’re not interested in having a shade raised,” I said, watching Malik over the rim of my mug.
    He shook his head.
    Figured.
    “What is it you think I can do for you, Mr. Malik?”
    “Actual y, it is what we can do for each other. Your actions two days ago brought Faerie’s attention down on the fae in the floodplain,” he said, and then paused, as if waiting for some response from me.
    “I’m not going to justify helping the police in their search for a serial kil er.”
    “I hid those feet for a reason!”
    A reason? I glanced at Caleb, letting my uncertainty bleed into my expression. The good guys didn’t hide disembodied appendages.
    He met my gaze, but there were no answers in his eyes.
    They were the same blue he usual y wore while glamoured, They were the same blue he usual y wore while glamoured, but I’d never been more aware that the person behind that glamour was so other .
    I swal owed a gulp of coffee without tasting it and let my hand fal casual y to my pocket. I could reach my phone, but my recent upgrade to a touch screen meant there would be no dialing numbers by feel. “Are you admitting to the murder of those people?” I asked Malik, my voice just above a whisper.
    “Of course not. I hid the feet, but they were already severed when I found them. And before you ask, no, I don’t know how they came to be that way.”
    “Then why hide them in the first place?”
    His fingers clenched his mug. “To avoid the very scrutiny you have brought to my home!”
    At Malik’s outburst, PC, who’d fal en asleep on his usual pil ow, jumped to his feet with a yelp. Then he dove off the bed and ducked behind the bedskirt. Not exactly a guard dog. Malik set his mug on the counter and took a deep breath.
    He released the breath slowly, and when he spoke again, his voice was calmer. “That scrutiny is unavoidable now.
    But you’ve also drawn attention. The best thing for both of us would be if the murderer is caught as soon as possible.”
    Wel , I couldn’t argue with that. There were seven left feet in the morgue—it would be best for everyone if the kil er was found before he or she kil ed again. But . . . “What is it you think I can do?”
    Malik frowned. “You’re an investigator. Investigate.”
    Right. Searching for a serial kil er was way out of my job description. If enough of one of the bodies was recovered that a shade could be raised, I would gladly help the police question the victim, but the last time I’d gotten actively involved in a major investigation I’d nearly died. And then I’d been arrested.
    I pushed myself off the wal . I’d heard enough. Malik had said he’d found—and hidden—the feet but didn’t know said he’d found—and hidden—the feet but didn’t know anything more about them. Fae couldn’t lie, so I had no choice but to believe him. John, and most likely the FIB, since they had taken over the case, would stil want to question Malik, but I wasn’t going to antagonize him by cal ing the police while he stood in my loft. I’d kick him out first.
    “I don’t think I’l be able to help you,” I said, giving him a wide berth as I headed for the door.
    “You’re the only one in the position to help us.”
    I stopped, my hand hovering over the doorknob. That whole not-being-able-to-lie thing meant that when Malik said I was the