by Cathy Clamp
Rachel let out a small laugh that made Anica happy. She reached down and ruffled the fur between her ears. “Yeah, I’ll help. I didn’t like Paula, but I’ll help you.”
“Good.” She lowered her voice, motioned with her head for Rachel to bend closer. “I agree with you that we should have evidence to take with us. In case seers are not close. You have fingers. Take little bit where yellow spots are. What will hurt anyone?”
“Right under the agent’s nose?” Her friend was whispering now, close to her ear. “What if he sees?”
“Then we stop. But perhaps he not stop us? I will say I want to save for later, learn how to smell correctly. It is true, so no lie smell.”
She nodded quickly. “Okay, you go sniff around in another room. I’ll take care of it.”
Anica padded across the living room toward an open door. The couch in the living room was old, threadbare, dirty, which didn’t seem like Paula. She was always careful with her appearance. Uniform always clean, nice shoes. When Anica looked closer, she realized it didn’t match the rest of the furniture. The other wood was pine and oak. The wood on the arms of the couch was red. She padded over to sniff the couch. It didn’t smell like Paula, which wasn’t right. She should have sat on it. It faced the television. There were magazines on the short table in front of it.
She decided it was important to tell the others about it. Halfway across the room, one of the boards underfoot bent under her weight, even though the others seemed sturdy. She heard a pop and the familiar scent filled her nose, making her heart start to race.
Anica yelled for the others, and started to run. “Leave! Leave the house. There is dynamite in couch!”
Rachel’s head rose and she raced toward the scent of the blood. “Dalvin! Get out of the house! Anica smelled a bomb!”
Bobby and Dalvin came out from the back, carrying the bloody body of Paula. Anica watched as her head lolled to the side. Her eyes were open, her mouth frozen in a scream. Her throat had been torn to shreds. It was nothing more than shards of meat. “You must hurry. Please.”
“Yep, I can smell it. The fuse is burning. No telling how much time we have.” Bobby was swearing under his breath, pushing Paula’s legs as Dalvin nearly ran backward with Paula’s shoulders held as high as he dared.
Rachel held open the front door and Anica fled the building with the others hot on her heels.
Sound and motion seemed to slow and then speed up as an explosion from behind caught them, threw all of them up and forward to land at least three meters away. When Anica hit the ground, she was in human form. Not a surprise Bobby couldn’t hold her during the impact. She turned her head to look at the house. Fire and debris shot into the sky but hit a container of magic and flowed out and around, trying to escape. But the magic was stronger. She couldn’t tear her attention away as the building imploded in a collision of magic and dirt. It compressed inward, pushing the fire down onto itself. Deprived of oxygen, it collapsed, leaving nothing more than a pile of rubble that had been a house.
A warmth penetrated her in a wave and she turned suddenly, looking for the source. Tristan was coming up behind her, unfolding a blanket that he draped over her shoulders. She didn’t feel cold, but Papa wouldn’t like her being naked around all these men.
Tristan’s mouth was moving, but she couldn’t hear anything. The explosion must have made her deaf. She hoped it was only temporary. She shook her head and pointed to her ears. Seconds later, she heard his voice in her mind, echoing like a low bell.
Are you all right?
She spoke out loud because it seemed wrong somehow to speak in his mind with the others present. It was too … personal, even though she doubted it was to him. “There was bomb. I smelled it and we were able to get out.” She turned to Rachel and the others and shouted in case they couldn’t hear either.
“Are you okay?!”
Bobby was on his knees, shaking his head slowly, like he was trying to orient himself. Dalvin was on his back, just beginning to move his legs. The movement was tentative; then his leg twitched and she could smell his pain. He must have broken something. Rachel crawled to his side, rubbing the side of her head, where there was a flow of blood.
They didn’t respond to her.
Tristan touched her shoulder. I don’t think they can hear. You stay here and rest for a minute. I’ll go talk to Bobby. Don’t worry. Nobody will have heard the explosion. I blocked the sound.
It made her frown, but she couldn’t get the fuzzy out of her head enough to ask him how he had done that, or how he knew to be here, just after the explosion.
Tristan walked quickly over to Dalvin and checked his legs. He frowned a little and put a hand on either side of his thigh. Anica felt a surge of magic expand outward, surround her, caress her as though it were his hands touching her skin. It made her feel giddy, like she’d just woken after a good night’s sleep. She had no idea he was a healer, like the doctor!
Not questioning the assistance, Dalvin started to move his leg, testing the strength. He was on his feet in moments, stretching and surveying what was left of the house.
Then, without a word, Tristan put a hand on Rachel’s head and the bleeding stopped, dried right on her skin. She touched her head, then her ear, and got an odd expression on her face.
Bobby wasn’t injured, but Tristan offered his hand and Bobby took it, using the leverage to get to his feet. Tristan didn’t touch him after that.
She looked up as Rachel came over and pulled off the gray sweatshirt and pants. Anica had forgotten she had other clothes on underneath. The owl shifter took the blanket and held it like a shield between Anica and the others while the little bear got dressed. “Thank you. I’m sorry they were damaged.” The back of the sweatshirt had multiple burn holes. Likely only the hood kept her hair from burning. While Anica’s skin felt hot, she didn’t notice any actual burns when she was dressing. Her fur must have protected her.
Rachel let out a startled laugh and lowered the blanket enough to put her head over the top. “Are you kidding me? You saved my life, girlfriend! If you hadn’t warned everyone, little bits of us would be splattered all over the tree line.”
“How did you find the bomb, Anica?” Bobby asked from a dozen feet away. “I didn’t smell anything, and I have a very sensitive tongue.” Bobby walked their way, carefully averting his eyes until Rachel put down the blanket.
When Anica shrugged, the arms of the shirt fell down over her hands. She pushed them up again. “I did not smell either until fuse was lit. I think there was trigger in floor that I stepped on. I am very sorry.” It was embarrassing, to have not noticed that.
“Don’t touch her.” Tristan had moved, so quickly she didn’t even see it happen. He was right next to her, stopping Bobby’s hand in mid-air as it reached out to touch her shoulder.
Bobby pulled his arm back, giving Tristan a curious look. “I wasn’t planning to hurt her.” He motioned with a finger for Tristan to follow him away from the three of them. Tristan gave her a long look and followed him. They stepped a dozen feet away and stood with their heads together for several minutes. She couldn’t hear what they were saying and she didn’t think Dalvin and Rachel could either, although both of them were very obviously trying, even though they were seeming to look nonchalant.
After several tense moments, Bobby threw up his hands. “All I wanted to know was what made her realize there was a bomb in the house.” He walked back toward them and looked right at her. “What made you notice the couch?”
Tristan was only a step behind Bobby. He shrugged and looked to her for confirmation. “The couch was out of place. Right?”
“Yes.” It surprised her that he would have noticed. Most men didn’t think of design. “The couch was old and not right color for room. I went closer to see and smell, as snak—as Bobby told me. That is when I stepped on board that was weak. I heard noise and smelled cord burning. I have smelled dynamite fuse many times. Papa cleared rocks from land that way when we sta
rted farm.”
Dalvin was closer to the house, stepping carefully through the debris to get closer to where the explosion started. “So we have a dead woman and either a killer who planned to murder the first responders or a murderer trying to cover his or her tracks.”
Anica nodded. “I believe man plan to kill others. Too many careful plans. Old couch removed, new couch brought in. Trigger planted under floor and rug replaced. Bloody leaves buried. No. Murder is only to bring more people to kill. I see many times in Serbia during war. Kill man, wait for funeral. Kill whole femily when they grieve. This is act of hate, not just anger.”
“I agree,” Rachel said. “But then, whoever did it might not have targeted Paula specifically. Maybe it didn’t matter who was killed first, as long as other people were caught in the trap.”
Bobby was nodding. “Maybe the important thing is where she lived. This house is one of the furthest from the main part of town. The killer needed time to plan all this. And he probably needed help. I can carry a couch by myself, but it’s clumsy. There were corners to get around. I didn’t see any chips in the doorways where a couch hit on the way in or out.”
“But was it to kill humans or Sazi?” Dalvin’s question was wise. There were many humans in town. Explosives could be handled by either.
“Cops.” Tristan sounded positive. “The bomb wasn’t by the body. That would have been a quick kill with maximum damage to first responders. Paramedics and Good Samaritans go for the body first, not wander around the living room.”
“They wish police dead,” Anica had to agree. “Wolven police. Papa would not let human police investigate before Wolven, especially since they are in town already.”
Bobby let out a hiss that would have made Anica shrink away if it were directed toward her. “Wolven or alphas. A bomb does head and heart very well.”
“Head and heart?” Rachel asked what Anica had wanted to. She knew so little about how Sazi law enforcement worked. Of course, if she had known more earlier she probably wouldn’t have brought her family over, made them like her. Maybe Samit would still be alive, and Papa and Mama still together, if she hadn’t.
Dalvin answered instead of Bobby. “A high-level alpha, and many non-alphas too, can only be killed by taking out both the heart and head simultaneously. One or the other can be healed, but both can’t.”
A little hoot slipped out of Rachel. She covered her mouth like she had burped. “So I guess bombs are common assassination tools, huh?”
Her fiancé shook his head. “Actually, no. First one I’ve seen. Usually our animal would prefer to use tooth and claw to kill—whether it’s for revenge or lust or anger. Bombs are human tools, for human results.” He looked to Bobby for confirmation, but not Tristan. In fact, he hardly paid him any attention at all, as though he weren’t there.
Nor was Tristan paying any attention to them. He was standing in the middle of the debris, staring at his feet. He’d taken his shirt off for some reason and just stood there among the smoke vapors rising from the collapsed structure. As she watched, he raised his arms and lifted his head, turning in a circle slowly. That’s when she noticed he was also barefoot. Why would he be standing among the shards of glass, nails poking from broken boards and smoking embers?
“Tristan? You are ok—” She stopped when Bobby shook his head quickly, putting a finger to his lips. She must have looked confused, because he stepped closer and lowered his voice to speak next to her ear.
“Don’t interrupt him. This is how he investigates.”
That’s when Dalvin and Rachel both turned to look at Tristan. “What the hell—?” Dalvin’s voice was somewhere between amused and annoyed. He pointed at Tristan and tapped Bobby’s arm. “He can’t be doing that. He’s compromising the crime scene. He’s not Wolven.”
Bobby let out a snort that sounded more like a pig than a snake to Anica. “No. He’s not Wolven. Consider him a special investigator on loan to Wolven.”
“On loan from where?”
The snake policeman shook his head. “Not from where. From who. And that’s all you need to know. Let it go. He’ll stay out of our way. We just have to stay out of his. Think of us as the local cops and him as the FBI. He’s way above us on the food chain. We can have the collar, but we play by his rules.”
Anica stared at his muscled back. He stretched his arms out and flipped his head from side to side. The popping sound of his neck joints settling into place was even louder than the popping of wood embers under his feet. She couldn’t help but stare at him, examine every line of his back. His muscles were slender ropes under his skin, not at all like her brothers or even her father, who grew more bulk after they became bears. She took a deep breath, trying to find his scent over the burnt home. It was there, faintly, and her nose locked on, entranced. The exotic blend of spices could fill an entire marketplace. It was only sheer force of will that kept her from walking forward to run her fingers over his skin, to absorb the scent of him into her fingertips.
There was a pale blue tattoo of ocean waves on one tanned shoulder. It seemed an odd tattoo for a bear. Even though she liked the water, enjoyed finding sweet fish, she thought if she were to get a tattoo—which Papa would definitely disapprove of—it would be a ripe raspberry or maybe a pine tree or even a little stone bear totem, like she had seen in museums.
He turned his head, almost startled. He locked his eyes on hers and she couldn’t feel the ground under her anymore. There was a weight in his eyes … of timeless power that was as deep as the ocean, and as callous. The depth seemed to suck her inside. She was falling into the waves, unable to catch her breath.
And she didn’t care if she drowned.
CHAPTER 8
The heat of the smoldering wood underfoot helped ground him like he was meditating on the beach. Tristan opened his senses to the house, let the past soak in. After a few minutes, he realized that just exposing his feet to the scents wouldn’t be enough. He stripped off his shirt and immediately a thousand smells flowed into his pores. His species was unique among the Sazi, which was why Ahmad had called him in. His entire body was like a nose. Every pore soaked in scents, so it was nearly impossible to hide a smell for long. He spread his arms, blocking out the chatter of the others behind him so he could unravel the truth.
The fire had released the scents of years past. He smelled the woman who lived here more clearly. She was lonely … no, she was pining. She was mated to someone who wasn’t mated back. She was weary, struggling against the weight of her depression. He turned in a circle and the debris of the bathroom told more of the story. Her hairbrush was thick with oily residue that smelled of sweat and cooking smoke. She wasn’t washing her hair, just brushing it and putting it up in a series of combs and bands.
Another turn and the living room hit him full in the chest. The explosive was hard to sort down through. It covered over so many older scents. But he sifted, flicking aside the bits of nitrates to get down to the scent of the people who had existed when the couch had been brought in.
Wait. No, he needed to know more about the couch. Where had it come from? This was a small town. There couldn’t be a lot of used-furniture stores in town, much less Dumpsters filled with broken-down couches. The couch was little more than toothpick-sized shards of wood and cloth. But even those tiny scraps had memory. The couch had been thick with dust. So Anica was correct that it didn’t fit with the house. It had been brought in from … he didn’t know where. It smelled of the area but didn’t as well. He’d recognize the combination of scents if he encountered it again.
An image flashed into his brain, raw and startling. It wasn’t a sense of the past, but the present. He could see himself from the outside, as though there were a camera pointed at his back. But it wasn’t just an image; it was a sensation. Want, brazen desire, hit his skin, both cloud and club to overwhelm his senses. He turned, startled at the intensity, and saw those eyes, golden and wide with what could only be lust. Anica’s pale pink lips were parted, g
listening in the fading light. He could almost feel her hands on him, sliding along his skin, her touch both curious and demanding.
He shook his head, trying to force his mind away from continuing that fantasy, to slipping the oversized, shapeless shirt over her head, revealing the slender figure he’d already seen, even if only from behind, then turning her around, pulling her close. Would she sigh? Whimper? Or growl?
No. She wasn’t anything like him or his kind. What she saw, sensed, was just an illusion. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this attracted to a woman. Decades ago? Centuries?
He had to force his gaze away from her, but he managed. With effort. She seemed almost embarrassed as he slid on his shoes and walked past her, carrying his shirt. “I need to spend some time in town to find the source of some of the scents I got.”
Bobby nodded. “It’s probably time for all of us to get back. There’s not much more we can do here for now. I think I can hold active aversion magic on this area for the night, but we might have to post a guard to watch for people with no sense.”
Rachel motioned to the ground, where the body of the house’s owner lay, facedown, lifeless. “What do we do with Paula? I mean, I didn’t like her, but she doesn’t deserve to just stay out here for the animals to eat. She didn’t have any family I know of locally. We can’t just carry her back to town. There are dozens of humans roaming around.”
Anica furrowed her brow, carefully avoiding looking at him. But then she smiled like sunshine breaking through a cloud. “Polar Pops!”
He didn’t know what that meant, and Bobby didn’t either. But Rachel reached up a hand toward Dalvin, who slapped it.
“What is Polar Pops?” Tristan and Bobby asked nearly in unison.
Rachel answered before Anica could. “The ice cream parlor. They’ll be closing for the night soon and there are plenty of coolers and freezers in the basement. We could put Paula in one overnight until we can figure out how to bury her. Although,” she continued, sticking her tongue out with obvious distaste, “I don’t know how Skew will feel about a dead body sharing space with her ice cream. Not very sanitary.”