Isy thought about it and tried to add in what she knew and what she’d witnessed during the interview with Evanson. “Can it block off emotions? You know, I can help. I know people in the medical industry. Please, let me have my phone. Let me do some digging.” She waited for him to turn her down or ask about the emotional question.
He had a poker face on. No indication whatsoever at what his thoughts were. Seconds ticked by as the moments stretched out. Isy began to pray for Torger to come home and interrupt things. What’s he thinking? Where is Torger? Her palms dampened as the tips of her thumbs itched to send out a text to her informants and network to get the information they needed. Urban licked his lips and opened his mouth before shutting it again. A small whine of irritation slipped out before she could catch it. Urban smirked.
“Damn it, let me help you!” she shouted.
Urban chuckled. “Impatient little thing, aren’t you?” He grinned. “Fine.” He handed over her phone, which she snatched away from him.
Not waiting for him to say anything, she began to scroll through her contacts list and started calling people. “Name of drug?” she asked as she snatched a napkin and pen poised to write.
“PXR90-1,” Urban responded before taking a bite out of his pizza.
She got to work calling people and searching the web for more, as well as emailing people she knew who could possibly have the connections to get her what she needed. Urban tapped at his laptop, and the hours whittled away with no appearance of Torger, not even a phone call. She didn’t think anything of it, she was too deep in research mode but a small part of her missed him, wishing he were there, safe with her.
* * * *
Abbott paced around his sanctuary. His anger lashed out at the air as he tried to tamp down his rage. Isadora Jones hadn’t done her usual spot, nor was there any information on why or where she was. There were rumors of police at the studio. People said that someone tried to attack her and that’s why she wasn’t on air. He picked up a bottle of his special ink and threw it against the wall. Black liquid with red glints burst against the pale yellow paint, forming a bloody Rorschach test. Tendrils of onyx and red slid down the wall like dark tears. His rage only grew at the mess. He picked up a chair and threw it. The legs gave a deep twang as it fell mournfully on its side.
Ariel rushed through the door, red splotches on her face, fear dancing in her bright blue eyes. “Master?” Her voice quaked as her hand clutched the knob. She shuffled further into the room without taking her eyes off of him. But she didn’t let go of the handle.
“Get out,” he roared as he pushed aside the books and papers on his desk. Abbott picked up a vase and threw it. Flowers floated in the air as drops of water danced and glittered under the florescent lights. Candle flames flickered as he wound his way around the space in a storm of emotion. All he could see was the fact that the center of his world hadn’t been where she was supposed to be. His hands shook as he tried to rein in his temper. He reached up and clutched his hair as he tried to find his way through the maze of anger. “She’s been hurt, threatened. I must show her my solidarity in the only way I know how.”
Abbott grabbed his coat and left his inner sanctum. The night would provide him with the answer to show Isadora his appreciation for her. He wandered the streets in a haze of anger and as the hunger throbbed through his body, his blood thickened in his veins and his body heat increased. The sweetest scent floated toward him; sugary, floral with a bite of metal underneath. He followed the aroma until he came upon a lithe beauty of medium height with mousy brown blond hair, pointed ears, glasses and a slim figure. She hugged a few books to her chest. Her small worn leather purse swung at her side. Her gaze darted from side to side as she walked a little faster. Abbott smiled and approached the woman. “Hello dear, you shouldn’t be out all alone, not with a killer on the loose. Why don’t you have a nice strong escort to take you home?”
The woman blinked up at him. Up close, her eyes were a beautiful brown, almost amber in hue. Her pale pink lips thinned. “Mr. Abbott,” she ducked her head. “I’m okay, really.”
Abbott smiled. “I’m sure you are, but a killer stalks the night. Let me guide you home. I promise not to try anything. What’s your name, my dear?” He held out his arm, and she slid hers through it.
“Michaela, Mr. Abbott.” She gave him a winning smile and allowed him to lead her along the sidewalk.
A ping sounded in the back of his brain. This is Isadora’s elfin assistant. The night was looking up, finally.
“Where are we going, Michaela?” He tested out her name on his tongue. Not as sweet as Isadora’s name but almost as close. Hunger thudded in his veins, wrapped around his heart as his blood turned to lava and need squeezed his dick. Hot liquid desire pooled in his groin, filling his shaft as the dull ache of arousal pulsed in his balls.
“To the Black Lagoon Condos.” She gave him a small, shy smile.
“A lovely place.” And quiet, he mused silently. Abbot knew exactly how to show his appreciation for Isadora. It would involve flowers, candles, and this lovely young lady. She would understand. She had to understand what his gift would mean. And then she would come to him, find him. Isadora Jones was clever; of course she would figure out it was him. As Michaela buzzed them past the gate and into the complex, he mentally noted the security camera watching their progress with its red eye tracking their movement. Must fetch that tape later. He allowed Michaela to lead him to her home.
“Please, come in Mr. Abbott. A drink?” she asked, her soft voice, shy, a blush on her cheeks bringing out her beauty.
“I would love to, my dear.” He accepted her invitation and shut the door behind him.
Chapter Eight
IS THE KILLER GETTING MORE VIOLENT?
Latest body found, a real horror show playing out. When will it end? -Isadora Jones, DC News Blast
Torger stared down at the body. Bile burned the back of his throat at the sight of what looked like deep teeth marks all over the arms, legs and neck. Blood painted the wall in splotches, drops and lines. Even the ceiling was stained with it. The room smelled like old pennies, sweat and decay. The coroner had estimated the woman had been dead for at least a few hours. There weren’t even any flies, not a single bug, which was odd. There was no scent of bleach and this wasn’t like the other scenes. It was as if the killer had just gone insane and went to town on the body. He wasn’t even sure that this was a vampire attack. It was just so brutal. There was no finesse at all. He would have thought the person had been attacked by a shifter if the bite marks didn’t look like punctures. He glanced over at Detective Santa Rosa. “We sure this was only one person?”
She nodded. “No indication of anyone else. House has been abandoned for over a year. Neighbors say they saw a black SUV in front of the house but saw no one going in or leaving. They didn’t see anything. I’m not sure if they’ve been bewitched or not. We’re having our resident wizard check to see if there’s any trace of magic or spells. I’d say we’re dealing with someone other than the serial killer based on the wounds. This looks too violent for someone so calculating. Thoughts?”
Detective Santa Rosa gazed up at him with inquisitive green eyes.
Torger nodded. “Sounds like it. Maybe this time we’ll be able to get some trace evidence, maybe even DNA.”
He thought about what he was going say to Isadora. She would be salivating over this story. Thankfully, Urban was keeping her under control. At least he hoped that his brother had her occupied. “Okay, guys wrap this up. We’ve been here long enough. I have to call Draven and let him know we may be dealing with some other sicko.”
His gut clenched. He didn’t doubt how that conversation would go, mostly with yelling and demands for answers and then a call from the Council. Yaaay, not. Torger left the crime scene with a sense of anger and hopelessness trailing after him like a train. As he got into his car, he resisted the urge to call Urban and do a check in. If he called his brother, then Isy would want t
o know what the call was about. Rather than face a firing squad of questions from either one of them, he called Draven. The vampire was getting used to being called away from home, but it didn’t make him any friendlier.
“What now?” Draven’s surly greeting made Torger sit up straighter. His wolf growled at the anger in Draven’s voice. The alpha in him woke up ready to fight. It wanted to bite and scratch.
“Listen you bastard, it’s been a long night. I don’t give a fuck what kind of pressure you’ve been under. I’m dealing with a pile of your shit so bench the attitude,” Torger growled.
Silence.
“We have another body,” Torger continued, trying to take his tone down a notch and not succeeding. An edge of anger still laced his voice. “More violent but doesn’t seem to be connected to the original case. We’re thinking magic is involved. I’m going to split the task forces to handle each case separately until proven otherwise. You better start getting a press release ready. I’m heading to your office now.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll meet with you in the morning. We’ll talk then. You need a full night’s sleep and space. Jesus.” There was a rasping sound coming from Draven’s end. “I hate this fucking case. I hate this whole thing. It’s playing havoc with everything and everyone around me. Look, I’m sorry. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Draven rang off before Torger could respond. It felt as if a balloon had been deflated. His anger had no outlet. Tension shivered along his limbs as he turned the car toward the police station. As much as he wanted to go home, he couldn’t. He wanted to get a report on the progress of the case. It had only been a half an hour, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been progress. Once he arrived, the tension in him ratcheted up until he practically ran from the car into the building. Meeting Duggan on the steps, he managed to get himself under control. With a nod, the police officer greeted him with a smile. “We found some DNA, sir, no matches yet but we’re still searching for them. We got a license plate number and a description of the driver who looked human. There was also a report of a shrouded figure getting out of the vehicle.”
“Good, good. Anything else?” Torger prayed there was more information.
“We’re still working on it, Chief. Get some sleep, okay? You have the werewolf summit in a few weeks.” Duggan wandered off.
Torger mentally called himself all sorts of idiot. He’d forgotten about the summit. The fact that it was happening during all this mess only amplified his stress levels. He got back into his car and drove to his cabin. He made a mental list of the topics that needed to be dealt with. Torger couldn’t keep track of it all; he needed an assistant. Weariness pushed down his shoulders, his limbs felt as if they were weighted, his head felt burdensome with all the thoughts and tasks he had to do.
With a groan, all the anger faded out of his body. He just wanted to go to bed, wrap his arms around Isy and hold her tight. Torger wanted, no needed, an anchor. His world was spinning out of control, and he didn’t know how to handle it. Killers stalking his people and there were political games being played all over the place at his expense. Never had Draven’s Crossing been so active as far as crime was concerned. It felt like a direct challenge to his alpha status.
He felt like he needed to call the pack together to figure out how to utilize them. Up until now, he had kept the werewolves that weren’t police out of things. Draven hadn’t called the vampires together. None of the elders of the paranormal groups had gotten involved. Maybe it was time to get them together and see what everyone thought. Yeah, that would be easy, he mused to himself. Getting all the elders together in one room without them getting distracted with trying to catch up and focus on the task at hand would be harder than trying to distract a werewolf during the full moon.
He sighed. I’ll just talk it over with Urban. Torger needed to touch base with the packs anyway. Pulling into the driveway, he dreaded meeting Isy. She’d been cooped up in his house for hours. He doubted Urban had even let her go back to the studio. They’d cleared the area, since the letter had come from the outside. The postmark had said someone from town, but there was no return address and no fingerprints on it. Which was a blow, but still a message from the killer was something to go on. He stopped the car and hesitated in turning it off.
No one would blame him for not turning right back around and putting in a few extra hours in the office. Not even Isy, but he couldn’t just leave her with Urban. Knowing his brother, he was driving her crazy with all his searching and typing and phone calls to his network of friends. He shut off the engine and got out. Hunger pangs echoed around his stomach. How long again since I last ate? He couldn’t remember, which was a bad sign. Normally, eating was a huge priority to keep up his strength and stamina. Now he felt weak, as if he was dragging himself around.
Striding to the door was a struggle when his limbs wanted him to sink down to the ground and sit there until someone found him. Anger shook through his lethargy. He wasn’t taking care of himself like he should. If the killer struck again, Torger wouldn’t be of any use. The door opened with light flooding his vision, blinding him for a moment. Blinking, he tried to identify the figure bathed in a soft golden glow. It was smaller than he was but definitely not female. “Who…?”
“Jesus, you look pale. Get in here. We have food. When’s the last time you’ve eaten? I’ve got news.” Jagger grabbed his hand and pulled him into the living room. The touch of his cold skin against Torger’s warmer one was a jolt to his system.
The vampire yanked him from room to room until they came to the kitchen. Cooking smells wafted around his body as his stomach gave another demanding grumble. His gaze zeroed in on the table laden with a large bowl of spaghetti and meatballs, bread sticks, pizza slices and various other pasta dishes, along with bottles of beer, some empty, then some full and empty plates. Without hearing what was being said, he loaded up a plate without changing or even taking off his guns and putting them in the safe. He was that hungry. Jagger, Isy and Urban talked around him while he shoveled forkfuls of food into his mouth and gulped down beer. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until the ale rolled over his taste buds.
“You haven’t eaten since breakfast, have you?” Isy’s matter of fact tone cut through his gluttony and stalled his hand from reaching for more bread sticks.
“Um…” He wasn’t sure how to answer that. Torger felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“I swear you need a keeper. Finish your plate, put your stuff away, take a shower and then you’ll get another plate.” Isy took away his empty dish and the empty beer bottle. “Go on, go.” She shooed him away, making him feel shut out.
With snickers from Jagger and Urban following him out of the room, he put away his gun and various pass cards, undressed, took a quick shower and rejoined them in the kitchen wearing sweat pants and a T-Shirt. A new plate of food was placed in front of him with a tall glass of milk instead of beer. He looked at the container bewildered, then up at Isy.
“You need your wits about you, not getting drunk.” She glared at the all-out chuckles coming from Jagger and Urban. “No more beer for anyone until we’ve made some progress. Jagger, I believe you wanted to tell Torger something.”
Jagger spoke. “Yeah, we’ve got security footage of a man in a trench coat, collar turned up, about medium height and build at the post office dropping off the letter in the In Town slot. The postage was bought at Abbott’s place, so was the stationary. We’ve sent people there to do a check of receipts. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say we are dealing with a local. None of the other stationary stores we’ve spoken to have had anyone but out of towners buying that kind of paper. My gut is telling me look to our citizens. The question is do we tell the public or don’t we? Madame Press here says they’re entitled to know. I disagree.”
Torger looked to Urban as he weighed the options. Urban nodded. “I disagree too. We’ll have a Monsters on Maple Street situation, everyone reporting their neighbor
s. That quiet guy is too quiet kind of shit. So, no.”
Isy sputtered. “But what if someone saw something? What if they have information that we didn’t have before? We wouldn’t be utilizing all of our resources. Torger?” she demanded.
Torger sighed. “I can see both sides of the argument, but I will not have friend against friend. No matter what the danger is. We’d have every Tom, Dick and Harry flooding the tip line to report even the stupidest shit like their neighbor putting out the trash on Thursday when pick up is on Monday. We have to think strategy. Anything more on the envelope? On the cologne?”
Jagger looked down at his tablet. “Local too. Similar to what you wear, in fact.” He gave Torger a cheeky smile.
Torger sighed. “And?”
“It’s almost the same brand but with a few modifications. We’re thinking it’s used to mask his natural scent. I’ll look deeper into it. Wolf boy over here has more info about the contests.” Jagger nodded to Urban.
Urban glared at Jagger. “Thanks, Count Dracula.” He proceeded to tell Torger what CyberCat had found about the contests and blood type question. Urban also added the information about the pills found in Evanson’s residence.
Torger stroked his chin. “There’s never been a record of him having any kind of affliction, especially associated with vampires or werewolves or any other shifters. But this has to do with his personal life…for now,” he added before anyone could protest. “Unless it adds to the case before us we have to concentrate on the killer and the new bodies. This blood type thread is interesting and it does speak to intent to lure people into his feeding ground. Those contests need to be shut down. I need to go to Draven with this new information. I will say that this gives us an excuse to poke around. I’ll call in a warrant. Urban you want to do a computer forensics search of their tech? They’ll be pissed, but at least we have this now. All right, people get to work.”
[Draven's Crossing 1] Hidden Diversions Page 11