When Riordan heard the term “compound,” he imagined a fortified tribal land, prepared to defend itself from all outsiders. Perhaps something between a military base and a medieval village. Instead, the heart of the compound is a big community hall of the sort Riordan associated with potlucks and family reunions. A building halfway between a school and an office building sat to the side of the hall, attached with a covered walkway. Across the central courtyard, a dormitory rounded out the main buildings. Beyond those, a cluster of out-buildings and personal residences and gardens filled the rest of the space.

There was a wall, but it was less stolid fortress battlements and more sturdy fence. From the information Quinn had passed along, the main magical defenses had followed the fence line, both as traps and alarms, making that weak wall far more sinister.

All the residents were under the care of law enforcement currently. The local jail didn’t have space to hold so many people at once, so they had done a preliminary processing, sorted out those who were a serious flight risk, and placed the rest into supervised accommodations scrounged from somewhere.

As such, the only person waiting for them when they pulled up was Agent Xavier De la Fuente. He looked up from his phone call and then slid his phone back into one of his suit pockets as he moved to greet them.

Of all the new agents, De la Fuente was the one Riordan struggled the most to assess. Heeren was a snooty mage used to getting her way. Vergil was a paperpusher with a stick up his ass. De la Fuente… was here to work. As far as Riordan could tell, the situation itself meant little to the man, so long as he had an excuse to use his magic and magical items.

De la Fuente waved them all over to him. “Greetings. I’m so glad you could join us today. My plan is for us to tackle the community hall first. The most dangerous or unique magical effects remaining are likely to be there.”

“What are you anticipating?” Quinn asked, sweeping his eyes across the area and then tapping the moonstone on his bracelet. Riordan saw one of Quinn’s ghost friends, Ingrid, pop up next to him. The blind girl ghost looked around just as curiously, empty eye sockets seeing… something.

De la Fuente frowned, tapping one elegant finger against his dark lips. “The defenses were layered charms, wrapped around various items and anchored with blood or other human body parts. All neatly concealed, of course.”

Maudy frowned even harder. “Body parts. That’s gross. Where did the death mages get those?”

“They murdered dozens of people for the ritual alone and you are wondering where they got body parts?” Riordan asked dryly.

The guard opened her mouth and then closed it again, her expression growing mule-ish. Or perhaps moose-ish. Maudy grumbled. “Death mages are gross. I figured that the bodies would be near the tree and, like, stay there for the ritual.”

“They had been,” Riordan commented, casting back in his memories. “The whole tree stank of rotting flesh and putrid blood when they strung me up. The bodies dangled there like morbid fruits. I think the magic of the ritual gave them more… structural integrity.”

Maudy piped up. “But there weren’t any bodies hanging from the tree when Phenalope did the ritual thing.”

“She must have cleaned it up,” De la Fuente mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “We already suspected that the majority of the cult members had been unaware of the murders before being invited to see the culmination of the killing tree ritual. It would have been easier to gather their followers and put on a show without the corpses around. Or perhaps Phenalope just didn’t want her grand moment ruined by that smell.”

“The majority of the corpses from the killing tree ritual were located in the vicinity of the tree, likely removed shortly before the final ritual. Possibly shortly after Riordan’s escape, depending on how confident they were in their magical defenses,” Ahlgren explained. Riordan should have known the surveillance expert had the answer. “Identification and cross-referencing with the list of ghosts provided by Mr. Kincaid has gone slowly given the state of decay on many of the bodies.”

“It certainly would have been easy enough to get body parts from the hanging corpses,” Quinn contributed. “Or from the other corpses.”

Maudy went wide-eyed and gulped, as intrigued as a frat boy watching a horror movie. “More corpses?”

“There have to be,” Quinn sighed, suddenly looking exhausted instead of just his usual tired. “The death energy for the people killed for the ritual was tied up in the ritual, unavailable for every day use. Which means all these defenses and traps and other spells had to get their magic from somewhere else. Which means more victims.”

Riordan looked around the peaceful compound, all cheerful and homey in the summer sun, and tried to imagine where the bodies were buried. Literally. “Did you find those yet?”

“No,” De la Fuente sighed dramatically. “It’s probably in some hidden corner of the community hall. Morrish felt a magical connection from the main hall to the ritual site during the initial scouting run. Magical wards or physically hidden secret corridors are all on the list of things to watch for. I know that Morrish, Ahlgren, and I have different methods of detecting hidden spaces.”

He let that statement trail off, turning halfway into a question. Maudy shrugged. “I’m just a moose. You need some heavy lifting done, I’m your girl, but I don’t have anything special.”

De la Fuente smiled at her charmingly and pressed a hand over his heart. “You sell yourself short, my lady. Both for your gifts as a shifter and for your undoubtedly many hidden talents.”

Maudy blushed at his flirting tone and Riordan rolled his eyes. He hoped his guard didn’t decide to get her rocks off with the magical pretty boy.

“And yourself, Mr. Kincaid?”

“Aside from shifter senses, fuck if I know,” Riordan grumbled. “The rest is too new to know if it will be helpful here yet.”

“Ah.” De la Fuente paused, clearly recalibrating his expectations. “Your affinities are very new, aren’t they. Aside from being a shifter.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Well, sharp eyes are probably going to be highly useful, no matter what.” De la Fuente declared. “I will ask that you wait for either Morrish or myself to identify death magic in a space before you enter. The subtler charms can slip under most people’s perceptions unless they have advanced techniques.”

Riordan had no problem agreeing to that. He came here because of the mundane elements of this location, wanting closure with the pain the leaders of this place caused him. Maudy’s motivations were even simpler, since she was just here to stick with Riordan.

The hall proved to be just as inviting inside as it appeared outside. A few tall double-paned windows let in natural light to the foyer area. The space had a double doored entry and then a small lounge with a coffee maker and some snacks, clearly meant for casual socializing. The furniture and walls were all in cheerful bright colors that managed not to clash.

Overall, the room painted a picture of welcome and joy, only diminished for Riordan by the tapestries and statues depicting women. Or rather, their “goddess” in four parts and other aspects of being divinely feminine.

To someone who believed in that or who needed to be reminded of the strength inherent because of femininity and not just despite it, the art would have been inspiring. For Riordan, it just made him grit his teeth.

His sense of unease only increased when he detected wisps of death magic around some of the art.

“Well, this is fucked up,” Quinn reported cheerfully, sweeping his gaze over the room.

They fell into a pattern of work, taking the room inch by inch. The space had been public to the members of the cult, which meant that the spells weren’t lethal, but Riordan still flinched whenever a tendril of magic reached from the largest tapestry into the room and tried to coil around any of their heads. Quinn and De la Fuente were both quick to shoo such magic away while they were setting up.

Ingrid circled the room, pointing out all the bits of magic for Quinn, while Zeren stood guard. Quinn split his attention between Ingrid and setting up a device with De la Fuente. The enchanted object looked like a large decorative jar on the surface and like a glowing cage of light magically.

Despite Riordan’s grumpy reserve regarding the agents, the craftsmanship of the jar impressed him. New layers of spells and effects became visible the longer Riordan studied it. More than just an anchor to wrap magic around, this jar was created to contain and preserve death magic in such a manner as to make it a separate reservoir of power. It didn’t clear the corruption out, lacking a method of venting it past the Veil--especially while leaving the death magic--but it did give a way of safely recycling magic to power the Department’s pet death mages without murder.

Quinn’s penchant for efficiency made more sense now. Examples such as that jar must have laid the foundation for his paradigm, as Frankie might have put it, and now his casting was all about precision and getting the best effect for the smallest amount of personal power.

Watching Quinn work was artistry, in Riordan’s opinion. The death mage attached the tiniest amount of his own power to the tapestry spell, establishing a link, and then drew it over to the jar. The function reminded Riordan of setting up a siphon by sucking the air out of a tube. Once it was going, the flow maintained itself until the spell was almost empty, at which point Quinn stepped in again to encourage the last vestiges of death magic to follow the rest down the metaphorical tube.

Riordan alternated between watching and exploring the non-magical bits of the room. His magic sensing might not be as finely honed as Quinn’s, but none of them were better than Ingrid and Riordan could see her warnings as easily as Quinn could. In fact, he and Ahlgren moved some of the smaller charmed objects closer to where Quinn and De la Fuente were working once Ingrid made it clear they weren’t immediately harmful. De la Fuente kept detailed lists of what magical effects they found, on what and where, before they drained the charms.

The public nature of the space didn’t divulge any real information about the death mages or even the individual cultists, but it gave Riordan haunting glimpses into their lives. Little things stood out. A note to wash the coffee mugs after use with a little heart drawn on it. A bulletin board on one wall with notices about classes but also sign-ups for “ceremonial duties.” The camera up on the wall pointed not at the door but at the lounge. The original intention behind the space had been peace and recovery and community, but other things had seeped in with the descent into full cult status and their leader’s madness.

Riordan wondered what would happen to this place after the investigation. Who even owned the property, officially? Who got the estates of deceased or imprisoned criminals, especially if they might also be tied up with a non-profit? Could any of the cult members who had come here as victims seeking shelter ever feel safe here again?

Hell, was it really safe here? Their little group was still in the first damned room, draining out death magic. Clean-up seemed really important all of a sudden. Because leaving the spells to decay, spilling corruption and death out into the space, sounded like a recipe for cursed or haunted locations.

Not to mention that there might literally be bodies in the basement.

A faint scratching sound drew Riordan’s attention towards the hall leading further into the building. He paused, wondering if he was imagining it or just getting weird echoes from the work in the room, but then he heard it again, barely audible even to his senses.

“Maudy,” Riordan waved her over as he moved to stand at the mouth to the hallway, still heeding the directions to go no further without the space being swept for traps. “Do you hear that?”

The guard tilted her head, frowning as she listened. She started shaking her head when the sound came again, a bit louder this time.

“What is that?” she asked, blinking.

“I don’t know what it is,” Riordan said, speaking up so that the mages could hear him too, “but we aren’t the only thing active in here.”