The skull sat on top of an old Stop sign. Someone had painted the surface of the octagon white and written KEEP OUT across it in large jagged letters. A reddish-brown splatter stained the bottom edge, looking suspiciously like dried blood. I leaned closer. Yep, blood. Some hair, too. Human hair.Curran frowned at the sign. “Do you think he’s trying to tell us something?”“I don’t know. He’s being so subtle about it.

-Ilona Andrews

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