Rejection mostly forgotten, I was ready to get to work.
18
Once we reached the train tracks, Lizzie showed me where she’d seen a hound attack a man. The only evidence of a struggle was flattened weeds and wild grass. No blood, no gore. Honestly, that didn’t surprise me. These hounds were intelligent—they had thousands of years to perfect their talents and abilities. It didn’t come as a shock that they knew how to cover their tracks.
Ha. Train tracks.
I crouched, fingering one of the blades of grass, then glanced around, looking for something out of the ordinary. I didn’t expect to see anything. I glanced up at Lizzie. “Did they tell you where they found the body?”
Lizzie hesitated. “How did you know they found it?”
Oops.
“I . . . have my sources.”
“Evidently.” Lizzie folded her arms and glared at me.
I rolled my eyes. “I dug down before coming to you. There are a lot of eager people in this town who are willing to talk to a friendly person.”
I wouldn’t consider myself friendly. Nor would I consider Alexander eager. But whatever.
“Then why didn’t you say that first? Why do you have to be so . . . so cryptic?”
I shrugged, not meeting her gaze. I found myself wavering on my decision not to tell her Alexander had hired me. But no—I couldn’t.
I solidified my resolve to keep that to myself. Alexander didn’t think it would bother her, but somehow, I knew it would. She needed confidence in this calling of hers, and if she knew my role in things, it would only cause her to hesitate, to second-guess herself. And that could be very dangerous.
She stepped in front of me, forcing me to look at her. I only held her eye for a moment before saying, “Let’s just get back to what we’re doing.”
Lizzie shook her head and pulled out her phone, pushing a button. She held the phone to her ear.
“Chief?” she said. “I’ve got a friend who’s helping me figure out who killed the man. He’s an expert of sorts. He’d like to know more about what’s going on, if that’s okay with you.”
Lizzie nodded a couple of times, thanked him, and ended the call, tucking her phone back into her purse.
Well. She definitely knew how to get people to do her bidding. “You handled that gracefully.”
A flush crossed her cheeks. “Handled what gracefully?”
“Everyone here is wrapped around your finger.”
Lizzie growled in frustration. “They are not. It’s part of the job. They help me and I help them. We’ve been working together for a long time, and we trust each other. It isn’t crazy for me to tell them what I’m doing, and for them to do the same. Yes, we’re usually dealing with bombs and fires and explosions and stuff like that, but the city pays me, and the chief and I work together a lot.”
I laughed, holding up my hands. “What’s that famous line from Shakespeare? I think you protest too much or something? I’m just pointing out that he didn’t seem to put up any sort of resistance. Especially when you called me an ‘expert of sorts.’ Not exactly a glowing recommendation, and yet, he didn’t question you.”
I’d never worked with cops very closely. In fact, I tended to avoid them. Something to do with me killing people and how that’s generally frowned upon. But from what I knew of them, they questioned things and people a lot.
Lizzie folded her arms and glared at me, and a tingle crossed my body. She was hot when she was angry. “So, what did he say?” I asked.
“He’s sending over Detective Evans.”
“Okay, then.”
I pushed the conversation out of my mind and started inspecting the area. I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for—important things generally jumped out at me. But this time, nothing was coming. Yet again, I wasn’t surprised. These hounds really knew how to cover their tracks.
Ha. Train tracks.
I smiled at the pun again and glanced at Lizzie to see if she noticed. She was watching me, but not watching me. Meaning, following my motions, knowing where I was and what I was doing, but not paying attention to me.
I tucked my disappointment away, determined not to act like a love-sick high school student. Any more than I already was, anyway.
An unmarked vehicle pulled up a few minutes later. Detective Evans, I assumed, got out and approached. He introduced himself to me after greeting Lizzie, then said, “You have information on the case?”
“I might,” I said. “I definitely have information on the creature who did it.”
Detective Evans pulled out a pen and paper. “What can you tell me about the dog?”
Hound, not dog. Why was he calling it a dog? Or did he not know it was a demon who could shift into a dog? That definitely was something he should know if he was working the case. I was surprised Lizzie hadn’t already filled him in on that bit of information. “It’s a creature that can turn—”
Lizzie grabbed my arm. “We can’t tell him what it is!” She glanced back at the detective and said, “I’m sorry, but it has to do with the portal that opened a few years ago. This particular demon is attracted to people who know it exists. It and others of its kind destroy anyone who learns about them.” She let go of my arm and glanced at me apologetically. “Sorry.”
No apology necessary. I’d enjoyed the contact with her, regardless of why it had happened.
She continued. “It’s my job to help eradicate them and keep our citizens protected. We need to work together to figure this out, but I will not put anyone else at risk in the process.”
Detective Evans tucked his notepad and pen away, obviously displeased. “So, what am I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for you while a crazy dog is running loose, killing people? That’s not going to fly with Chief, Miss Ashton, and you know it. Especially not while innocent lives are at stake.”
He made a good point. I watched Lizzie, interested to see how she responded.
“I’m sorry, I really am,” she said. “But trust me when I say these creatures know when someone is learning about them. We can’t tell you more without putting your life in danger. And locked doors and windows won’t help you—they don’t travel normally.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How do they travel? By floating?”
Lizzie tried to maintain a straight face, but failed. She chuckled. It only further annoyed the detective.
“Of course not,” she said before turning to the area we’d been inspecting. “Okay, let’s get to work. We need you to show us where the body was found.”
“Why should I give you information when you aren’t willing to give me any?”
Lizzie blinked in annoyance, and I held back a smile. It was fun seeing her reaction to someone not wrapped around her little finger.
“I don’t need your permission to access the files. While Chief might not be okay with me holding things back, I’m positive he would understand and would make sure you share what you know.”
She had a lot of trust in this chief of hers.
The detective glared. “I’m just saying this is ridiculous.”
“And I’m saying I’ll tell you when I know something you can know.”
He turned and pointed down the railroad tracks. “It was down there. Not far from Main Street.” Without looking back at us, he headed that way on foot.
We followed. I relished the feel of movement again, of not needing to keep my eyes on Lizzie all the time. Instead, I watched the railroad ties and the dead grass that lined the tracks for any sign of a struggle.
It took about five minutes to reach our destination, and when we did, Lizzie and I met eyes. I could tell a cleanup crew had been here, but there were still a lot of blood stains.
“I’m surprised it took the police a long time to find this,” Lizzie said, “what with all the blood.”
Detective Evans nodded. “Yes, but by this point, there wasn’t much of the body left.”
Lizzie visibly shuddered, and I felt a twinge of guilt. Blo
od didn’t bother me. Lots of blood didn’t bother me. I’d been around it far too much since reaching adulthood.
We continued searching the area where the body had been found, but didn’t see anything that would let us know where the demon had gone afterwards.
“I’m sure the cops found everything of interest here,” Lizzie said.
I glanced at her, not sure if I should disparage the police in front of Detective Evans. I didn’t get the chance to respond before she asked me, “What are you looking for, anyway?”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure. Something that will give us information about the man who did it.”
Detective Evans froze. “Man? I thought you said it was a dog.”
“Oops.” I still didn’t think we should keep that sort of thing from the cop.
Lizzie glared at me while responding to the detective. “It’s a man who shifts into a dog.”
Detective Evans stared at her, his face pale. “Well, this changes a lot. We’ve been looking for a dog this whole time.”
Exactly. I didn’t respond to him, instead thinking aloud. “He dragged the body this far for a reason. Maybe he’s set up in the area.” I turned around in a circle, inspecting the houses and businesses on either side of the train tracks and Main Street. Nothing looked suspicious, though.
Lizzie’s phone rang, and she pulled it out and answered. “Ashton.”
I heard the sound of a voice over her little speaker, but couldn’t understand what was being said.
She pulled the phone away from her ear to look at it, then said, “I can be there at noon. I’m on a case right now, but it’s not an emergency. I’ll leave immediately.”
Really? Right when we just started working?
She ended the call and turned, jogging along the tracks in the direction we’d just come. Detective Evans and I rushed to catch up with her, and she glanced over at me.
“Sorry. This is more important.”
She would know best—it was her job, after all.
“Totally understandable. I’m going to canvass the neighborhood.” I looked at Detective Evans. “If you want to come, feel free to do so.”
Detective Evans looked distracted, probably still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the dog Lizzie had seen had actually been the murderer and could turn into a human. “Yes, I’ll come.”
19
He and I started down Main Street, making a wide circle around that section of the train tracks.
“Do they know who the man was yet?”
Detective Evans shook his head. “No, not yet. There wasn’t a lot left to test.”
“Was there anything significant left?”
“Yes, but it’s in pieces.” Detective Evans gave me a look of curiosity and disgust. “You’re asking for a reason. Do you want to see it?”
“It would help.” It would definitely help my tattoo. I’d be able to track the man where I couldn’t track the hound. I didn’t want to tell the detective that much, though. “Let’s finish what we’re doing here first. I’d also like to take another look around where Lizzie saw the attack happen.”
“Sounds good,” he said.
I immersed myself in the task at hand, studying the houses, apartment complex, hotels, and other buildings in the three- or four-block radius surrounding where the body had been found. But nothing looked—or felt—off.
“What exactly do you do?” Detective Evans asked.
I shrugged, only half paying attention to him. “This and that.”
The man grunted in response, and I didn’t grace him with more words like he was probably hoping. He didn’t have any reason to distrust me, and I didn’t have any reason to explain myself. What we were doing wasn’t illegal, unlike some of my usual activities.
Without Lizzie watching and making me feel self-conscious, I was much better able to focus. I already knew being around her tended to cloud my mind. Hopefully it didn’t cloud my judgment too.
We made our way back to the place where the body had been found, and I searched for anything the forensics team might have missed. Despite the blood stains, there wasn’t anything there. They were very good.
I glanced at Detective Evans. “Okay, show me the body.”
“All right.”
His tone of voice led me to believe he thought I was being ridiculous. It was a bit patronizing. Oh, well. He obviously planned to go along with my request anyway.
“Your car or mine?” he asked.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“We’ll take mine, then.”
We walked to his car in silence. It was nice not to fill the void with words, and I could tell Detective Evans didn’t mind the quiet either.
***
There was so little left of the body that they kept it in a square metal tin on a shelf in the refrigerated section.
As soon as I saw what was left, I knew it would be plenty. Hoping Detective Evans didn’t notice, I pressed the morning tattoo on the inside of my wrist, staring at the remains of the body.
Track?
Yes.
And then I turned, watching as the familiar blue smoke-like magic filled the air. Bright embers glowed here and there in it, making spots appear on the walls. From experience, I knew I was the only one who could see it. I walked along it, following it out of the mortuary and down several halls, Detective Evans on my heels.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“To find where the victim came from.”
“We’re not tracking the dog?”
I shook my head. “We can learn a lot about the dog by knowing who the victim was. Go from that angle. Besides, you need to find out about him anyway.”
Detective Evans didn’t respond right away. I knew from his actions and questions that he was an intelligent guy, and he would see the reasoning behind my decision.
The blue smoke and bright embers led us outside, and we got in Detective Evans’ car. I showed him where to go, following the smoke. It took us back to where the body had been found. Since we couldn’t drive on the tracks, we parked the car and set out on foot.
Once we got to the blood-stained portion, the smoke scattered everywhere, showing where every part of the man had been when the cops had found him. I shook my head. What a horrible way to die.
Detective Evans was surprised when we found more bits of flesh. I wasn’t, though—magic trumps forensic teams and even my own tracking abilities pretty much every time. Maybe if they’d involved a dog, they would have found everything, but that seemed almost tacky, considering how the guy had died.
By the time we called in the forensics team again, we’d found several additional pieces. Somewhere around the third or fourth discovery, Detective Evans started watching me with respect. I ignored it. I didn’t have time to allow his admiration to go to my head, especially not when it was not my ability, but the magic of the tattoo.
After an hour, I started really feeling the use of the morning tattoo. I needed to hurry. That was the drawback with this one—to power itself, it stole energy from the others. Just like a bindweed, from which it kind of got its name. Bindweeds are sometimes called wild morning glories, and as Olivia, the girl who’d given me the tattoos, had explained, “morning” is a prettier word than “bindweed.”
I didn’t understand why the tattoo needed a pretty name, especially when it really did act like bindweed.
Regardless, the morning tattoo was borrowing energy from the rest, and one of them was using my blood to keep up its own powers. So, I was basically using my own blood to track the man.
After I indicated that I was ready to go, Detective Evans and I continued following the trail. When we reached the place where Lizzie had seen the victim getting chewed on, I wasn’t surprised that the trail led toward Lizzie’s house. My heart thumped against my rib cage when I saw how close the hound had dragged the guy to her place. Had he known where she lived? And if so, why hadn’t he attacked her? Why this man instead?
The dead guy�
��s trail started becoming erratic, indicating that he’d struggled while the dog dragged him. He’d obviously been alive there. Why hadn’t anyone heard him screaming? There was no way he hadn’t called out—not while getting attacked.
Then the thought occurred to me. Perhaps the hound had been in human form at that point. I wouldn’t be able to know. But I did start piecing things together.
The dog had been staking out Lizzie’s house when the man walked past. Perhaps he’d called at the dog or conversed with the man, and the hound had felt a reason to attack.
Continuing, Detective Evans and I headed south from Lizzie’s place and turned toward the west, passing a couple of blocks. The trail led to a rundown house with a yard full of all sorts of scrap metal—old appliances, car parts, rusted power tools, shovels, etc. There were so many tall weeds that I suspected if they were chopped down, we’d find a whole lot more junk.
After surveying the property for a moment, I glanced at Detective Evans. “This is where he’s from. He lived here for several years.” I pointed out a car parked on the street. “That’s his car.”
Detective Evans stared at me for a moment before saying, “Would you like to come with me to the door?”
I nodded. It would be nice to have this mystery solved. Plus, there was always the chance that someone else living there knew something about the hound or Lizzie.
We walked to the door, and Detective Evans knocked. Moments later, a haggard-looking man in his thirties opened and stared at us.
“What do you want?”
“My name is Detective Evans. This is my colleague . . .” He looked at me, a question on his face.
“My name is Abel. Do you live here?”
“Yes. I own the house.”
Detective Evans gave a curt nod. “And you have roommates? Family living with you? Friends?”
The man shrugged. “Roommates. Lots of them. What do you want?” he repeated.
“Has one of them gone missing recently?” I asked.
The man narrowed his eyes.
“How did you know? We haven’t told anybody.”
“You haven’t told anyone?” Detective Evans asked incredulously. “Why not?”
Shadow Prophet (Midnight Chronicles Book 1) Page 8