I look down at the faint stain of blood that remains on the asphalt. The subtle remnants invite me to reexamine the area with my sixth sense. With the crime scene tape gone, I decide it’s best to work from the sidewalk; otherwise, I just might end up joining the poor boy on one of Nathan’s tables. It’s never a bright idea to stand on the street while disengaging from your five senses. My sixth sense is always active, but I only catch subtle impressions of strong emotions or magic until I shut off my other senses. I can also sense souls, but it appears this boy’s soul has already passed on.
I close my eyes, pulling my awareness in and tucking it neatly away. I focus on my sixth sense, letting it grow and take the lead.
With my sixth sense fully engaged, I open my eyes again and scan the area for any magic or emotions that may linger. My eyesight is dimmed, and I see the world in a different way. What normally appears in vivid color dims to muddy shades of gray. And what I normally miss stands out in stark contrast. I think of the feelings I track as visible scents since what I see is an element that lingers in the air without distinct form. Magic feels like vibrations in the air similar to ripples through a pond.
My interpretation of souls usually comes in the form of colors and more solid characteristics that define the essence of their beings. Deeper than even personality, it is more a sense of someone’s fundamental nature that is greater than who they are in this lifetime.
I scan the street where the body had lain, looking for something previously unseen. Proceeding at an excruciatingly slow pace, I wrap my awareness around every inch of space in the vicinity. After a few minutes, I notice a faint trill of what seems like static electricity tickling the air around the bushes behind me. Like an eagle moving in for the kill, I turn and center all my focus on the depths of the greenery. A deep, thrumming magic comes from the middle of the closest bush, something extremely subtle and very old. I try to focus in, but whatever it is… it’s well hidden.
My full awareness springs to life again when I reengage my regular senses. Peering curiously at the bush, I wonder what secret it holds. I kneel and part the branches to view the shady center. When nothing is immediately obvious, I give the branches a good shake.
A glint of early evening light reflects off a metal object deep within the bush. With a fresh pair of gloves from my pack and an evidence bag at the ready, I push my arms into the bush up to my elbows and slowly feel around until my fingers run into something flat, hard, and circular. When I pull my hand out, a large, gold amulet is clenched between my slick latex-gloved fingers.
After carefully dropping the amulet in the bag and sealing it closed, I begin to examine it through the clear plastic. Its face is smooth and decorated with a beveled jade triangle. The triangle has an eye-shaped cutout in the center with a circular hole that goes all the way through the pendant. A pattern of irregular ridges and grooves radiates out from the hole like rays of sunshine. Each ridge has a series of tiny, white beads dotting its edge at irregular intervals. A plain golden chain is threaded through the pendant, and it holds the greatest treasure of all: a small, dark red thread caught up in the clasp—a thread of exactly the same color red as the thread that had been snagged on the boy’s nail. The boy was naked, so where did this thread come from—or rather whom did this thread come from?
I put the evidence bag in my pack, heft it to my shoulders over my black leather vest, and hurry toward the Cock and Bull Tap...
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Excerpt from: The Light Who Shines
By: Lilo Abernathy
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