by LJ Rivers
My throat constricted, even though I hadn’t gone near the body yet. I had seen a lot of violence and destruction in my life, but never anything supernatural. Not that I had known about, anyway.
The suit turned his head and caught sight of us. His tawny hair was tousled in such a way that it appeared to have been arranged like that on purpose. He had a smaller build than Leon, but wide shoulders and obvious muscle tones, visible even beneath a suit. He stood and nodded slowly.
“Report?” Leon asked.
The suit regarded me, peeled off one of his gloves, and offered me his hand. “I’m Detective Emil Larsen.” His accent was familiar, making me smile.
“Camryn—” What name did I give him? While I had resorted to using my mother’s name in Rosamund’s home, it might be a good idea to play it safe for now. “Anker. You’re Danish?” I almost told him how I had lived many years there, but stopped myself. I never shared private information with anyone. Regardless of the file Saga had on me, and my introduction to the veiled world, I couldn’t abandon the beliefs imprinted on me from an early age. Detective or not, I didn’t know this guy.
He carefully brushed his thumb over the bruise on my jaw. “Good catch, Miss Anker. Maybe I could tell you more about it sometime?”
Leon strode past me, nodding at the body. “Do we have an ID for the victim?”
Emil winked playfully at me before his face returned to a mask of seriousness. “Naunet Hamad.”
My heart flip-flopped in my chest. “Could you repeat that?”
“Naunet Hamad. We found her passport among her belongings. She’s from Egypt, been in Berlin for the past three months or so.” He let go of my hand and put a new glove on. “Did you know her?”
I swallowed. “No, the name just sounded familiar, I suppose.”
“You might simply recall it because of the Egyptian ocean goddess,” he offered.
“That must be it.” I adjusted the backpack and tightened the straps around my shoulders.
“Let’s have a look at her,” Emil said.
The three of us approached the body, and I prepared myself for some foul smell and lots of blood, but there was nothing like that. The room smelled like a mixture of laundry detergent and cigarettes, and though my nostrils objected to the stink of tobacco, it didn’t make me want to hurl. Not a drop of blood could be seen anywhere on or around her body, and she looked almost peaceful. Almost, because the absence of breath gave me the shivers.
Naunet had been a stunning woman. Her high cheekbones made the dips in her bronze skin more noticeable, and her body was rigid. Oily-black curls framed her hollowed cheeks, which had probably been an attractive trait only a few hours earlier, but now made her look malnourished. Aside from that, though, there hadn’t been enough time for her to fully look like a corpse yet. While rigor mortis had set in, her skin was still glowing, and she could have been asleep for all I was concerned. If it wasn’t for the fact that her umber eyes were staring straight at me, of course.
“I’ll send you my report, Leon. Meanwhile, you may take a look around. Let me know if you need anything.” Emil started to walk off, paused, and dug into his jacket pocket, retrieving a small card. “My number. In case you need me.” He gave it to me, winked again, and strode over to the group of people by the small kitchen. I tucked the card into my back pocket without looking at it, not sure if he was flirting with me or simply offering me his number to be nice, in case I ever needed something cleaned up. Perish the thought.
I looked up to find Leon on the other side of the body, regarding me with pinched brows.
“Any thoughts on the case?”
I straightened. “Where are the bite wounds?”
“Look closer.”
I narrowed my eyes, leaning in for a better look. Two marks, which looked more like scars, brandished the skin on her neck. “It’s odd, isn’t it? I mean, what could have done this? Is it possible that this is the work of a vamp after all?”
“In broad daylight? Quand les poules auront des dents peut-être.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, when hens have teeth, maybe.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Then what? Is someone trying to pin it on the vampires?”
“If that were the case, they wouldn’t have done this during the day either. If they want to start a war, their plan is half-baked, at best. It completely exonerates Ursula and the vampires.”
My eyes skated to Naunet’s body and back again. “You think this is linked to Petra’s attack?” If it was, then the attack might have had more to do with me than her. Considering all I had learned from Rosamund, there was a big, fat bullseye on my back, and if someone somehow had discovered what I am, they might be gunning for me. Was that why Naunet had told me to leave Berlin? Whatever she had tried to warn me about, she would never tell. Clearly.
Leon held out his car key and dangled it over the body. “I’d like that time now.”
“Right. Let me just have one more word with Detective Larsen first.” I snatched the keys from his hand, turned around, and closed the distance between me and the detective, now hovering by the kitchen window.
“Back so soon?” He gave me a wolfish smile, and I got the distinct impression I knew exactly what kind of breed he was. I glanced outside and nearly yelped in surprise, though I managed to internalize my horror. From the spot at the window, I could see straight into my living room. Tinted windows or not, from this vantage point, I was able to see the contours of furniture inside. I took a slow, deliberate breath and gave the detective my most brilliant smile.
“I was just wondering if you found anything else of hers that might be of use? Like maybe a notebook, calendar, something? Anything that could point us to what she’s been up to lately, and whom we should talk to.”
He brushed a loose strand of my hair back over my shoulder, once again invading my personal space, so I took a step back. I didn’t think he meant anything by it, but I wasn’t about to indulge whatever he thought he was doing and give him the wrong idea.
Emil picked up a packet of cigarettes from the windowsill, held it upside down, and bumped it firmly with the flat of his hand. One cigarette popped out. He took it between two fingers and brought it to his mouth, then replaced the packet. “Got a light?”
“I don’t smoke.”
“Didn’t ask if you smoked.”
Scrunching my lips together, I reached into the side pocket of my backpack and fished out a pack of matches. I lit one and held it out for him. Once smoke began drifting from the corners of his mouth, I put the packet back.
A blanket of gray fog shot out from Emil’s nostrils before he took another drag. “Not my usual brand,” he commented. “These were already here.”
“You’re smoking evidence?” I gaped up at him. Up, because the man was freakishly tall.
He chuckled. “You’ve not been in our world very long, have you?”
I shrugged.
“We’re not like the human police. Our courts are not the same, and justice is dealt out in more, shall we say, primal manners.” He took another deep drag, and I covered my nose as the smoke clouded my face. “At any rate, these were not hers. Her clothes smell a little of this brand, but only because she’s been in proximity to the actual smoker.”
Leaning past him, I unlatched the hatch and pushed the window open, the hinges screeching. I’d heard that noise before, during my phone call with Naunet. Gulping down as much of the fresh air as I could, I retreated into the fumes again. “How do you know?”
“My sense of smell is impeccable, young one.”
I snorted. Young one? While his hair had a few silver strands, he looked to be in his mid-thirties and not that much older than me. I had to learn not to trust appearances.
“Perhaps take note of the brand. It’s not the most commonly sold in Germany, so it might be good for something.”
I plucked it from the windowsill. “Thanks. Is there nothing else?”
“No computers, no notes, not a single post-it. Her bel
ongings were scarce, just a few items of clothes and toiletries.”
“What about her phone?” I scratched around the dressing on my neck, a little weirded out by the way he kept staring at it. “Everyone has a phone.”
“Didn’t find one.”
“Who called it in?”
“The caller was male, but whoever it was used a burner and didn’t leave a name.”
Great. That left me with a vampire murder that couldn’t be a vampire murder, a creepy phone call from Naunet that made no sense at all, and half a packet of cigarettes. “I appreciate it. Tell Leon I’ll wait for him in the car.”
“Take care now, pup.”
I could still feel his eyes on me as I crossed the room, ducked underneath the tape, and went outside.
Chapter Twelve
If Leon had been a wolf, Emil would be in trouble. Leon felt a primal urge to guard Camryn from all danger, and though he had never been territorial in nature, wolves were. And the Delta across the room had set his sight on Camryn. Emil was a decent enough wolf, but wolves and witches rarely mixed well. He needed a mate who was also a wolf, which meant Camryn would be nothing but a plaything to him if she were to act on his advances. Emil’s kind loved the hunt. Then again, Camryn’s shield power was unlike anything Leon had ever known, so perhaps it would be different with her.
As he watched Emil’s nostrils flare, as if taking in Camryn’s scent, Leon almost strode up to them to wrench her away from the Delta. Instead, he waited until they ended their conversation and Camryn left the room.
When a surge of overwhelming emotions slammed into him, Leon dabbed his forehead with the hem of his sleeve. The sudden shift was forceful and new. Shaking himself, he attuned to the familiar waves of energy around him, soaking in the jade and sapphire colors in the room. All members of the FAB were preoccupied with the case, but there was an air of relief, likely due to the nature of the murder. No blood spatter meant less clean-up, and the fact that Naunet wasn’t from here, and seemed to be a loner, made everyone more relaxed. Hope swirled—hope that they could wrap this up quickly and return home before nightfall. He mentally separated the emotions from each of the members of the team, weeding away the ones he didn’t need, and focused on the body.
Since she was dead, he couldn’t pick up any current sensations seeping out. Still, if the attack had been forceful enough, there should be remnants of terror or something similar still imprinted on the scene. While he sharpened his concentration, he was having a hard time getting a read on the body. The room was still too crowded.
“Emil. Could you and your team step outside for just a minute or two?”
Emil snapped his fingers, and the team filed outside one by one. When Leon was finally alone with Naunet’s body, he sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. Palms out and fingers splayed, he began moving through the room. Only the strongest of emotions lingered for more than a few minutes, and the previous relief had already abated.
He grimaced as a sense of hatred and anger washed over him. The killer’s signature surrounded him like a heavy perfume. Most vampires felt a strong lust when drinking blood. It was a natural part of the process, and considering the amount of blood the perpetrator had ingested, lust should have been the dominant imprint in the room. Curiously, though, there wasn’t even a sliver of it. All he perceived was rage. A chill stirred the hairs on his arms. No, not just rage. There was something else. Desire? Not in a sexual way, but something more akin to hunger. A cavernous urge that went deeper than a need for satisfaction, as if yearning for something to end. It reminded him of how men at the brink of death desired to be released from their suffering. Most people didn’t yearn for death. Even those who did still clung to life by their teeth. This was raw and more primal than anything else.
But where was the fear? Where was the despair and terror all victims experienced close to death? A vampire could have charmed her to feel no pain, but since there was no lust, Leon was becoming more and more certain no vampire had committed this crime. On the surface, a couple of characteristic marks on the victim’s neck, along with the complete loss of blood, normally would have made this a slam dunk. There had to be something else in the waters; he just didn’t know what.
After pacing the room for a while, soaking up every residual emotion he could find, he returned to the body and knelt beside her. As he sat there, Emil came back inside. The Delta leaned against the oval kitchen island, but said nothing. He was feeling superior and somewhat impatient, but there was also respect, which came from knowing Leon’s rank in the clan and Emil’s own position as fourth in his pack. Wolves were wired like that, and it was partly why Leon managed to get along with most of them. They revered strength, loyalty, and respect. Family was everything to a wolf, whether that meant their mate and children or the pack as a whole, which in turn earned them Leon’s respect as well. On the other hand, they were short-tempered, and their predatory nature didn’t always work in their favor, making them difficult to cooperate with.
While Leon couldn’t ignore the jolts of emotions from Emil, he ignored the man and swiped his eyes down to the woman’s face. She had been too young to die. Mid-twenties at most. Her wide-open eyes looked at him pleadingly, and his own stung with unshed tears. He wasn’t sure why he felt so overcome with grief when she had left none behind, but maybe that was exactly why he mourned her death.
“I’ll find who did this to you,” he promised, placing his hand on her forearm. The instant loss of magical energy in the room made him retract his arm. In a flash, the sensations of superiority and impatience careened back inside, colors flaring to life. Cautiously, he put his hand against Naunet’s skin once more, and again the colors faded, muting the world.
Interesting.
Frowning, he stood up, inviting his power to return. “I’ll be leaving now. Let me know if you find anything else.”
A low growl rumbled in Emil’s chest. Not a threat, but more that of a dog who had finally found the bone he’d been searching for. “As always. Give my best to Saga.”
Leon nodded and left the crime scene.
As he stepped onto the sidewalk, he could already hear the sound of rock music blasting from inside his car. He tucked his hands in his pockets and noted that the sun had fallen further in the sky.
As he opened the door, Cam’s version of Metallica’s “Whiskey in the Jar” made him pause for a beat before closing the door. Though she clearly knew he was there, she kept belting out the lyrics, wildly out of tune. It was cute, if a little punishing to the ears. He leaned forward and turned the volume down low.
“Hey, I was jamming to that.” She said it with feigned annoyance because her face looked happy to see him. After studying him for a while, she sighed. “Learn anything new?”
His hand moved automatically to turn on the ignition, before he caught himself. The blue light from the power button reminded him of how much he missed his old Mustang, Lucille. “It’s almost five.”
“Oh, yeah, that. It sort of fell through.”
“Right. We’ve still got almost five hours until sundown.”
She cradled her backpack on her lap and played with a few frayed edges on the straps. Her gaze lifted to the other side of the street, to her apartment. “I don’t want to go home.”
Relief washed over him. His own. He didn’t want her to go back either and was glad she was the one to say it, so he didn’t have to. “We can go to my place. I’ll order us a pizza or something.”
“Your place? Is that Saga’s or Rosamund’s home? It’s all a little confusing.”
He put his foot lightly on the gas and swerved out of the parking spot and into the street. “While I spend more time at both those places, I do have my very own humble abode. Let’s get some food, and then we can talk more when we get there.”
“I am starving.” She pulled her fingers through her silky hair, and he had the sudden impulse to reach out and touch the dark strands falling past her elbows. Instead, he gripped the steering whee
l as though his life depended on it.
She huffed a little when she reclined her head. Her hair was fastened in a high ponytail, so she turned her face toward him.
The world was quiet, and all he saw was her.
Catching himself, he fixed his eyes on the street in front of him. It was difficult not to look at her because even though he couldn’t discern her emotions, he sensed her eyes on him. He stole a glance now and then as they drove, memorizing every inch of her. He hadn’t felt this way about a woman for—wow, it must be ten years by now—and he probably shouldn’t be feeling this way about her. Hell, they’d only just met. He tried to convince himself that her power was making him drunk—drunk from lack of emotional interference—but part of him didn’t believe his own argument.
“So,” she pressed. “Did you or did you not learn anything new while I was headbanging in the car?”
“I can’t be sure,” he said, “and it seems impossible, but I think Naunet was a shield witch too.”
Chapter Thirteen
After Leon told me of his suspicions—that Naunet had been a shield witch, like me—I didn’t know what to think. I was in a daze when we arrived at his quaint townhouse, and while I normally mapped out everything I could about a room, I lazily noted how the place was tiny for a house. It had only one bedroom where I assumed his daughter slept, leaving Leon to sleep on the couch. Apart from some unwashed dishes in the sink and a few clothes strewn about, it was clean and tidy. Good enough for me.
Instead of stopping for food, Leon had ordered pizza, which arrived twenty minutes after we had settled on his couch.
After my third slice, I felt more like myself again. “But she was dead,” I blurted.
He finished chewing, swallowed, and gulped down a swig of root beer. “Her body is still very much deceased. Magic doesn’t die, not like the body does. It’s not bound to her blood, even though we inherit our powers from our parents, except for those individuals who are made, and it’s not bound to a beating heart either.”