“That reporter chick is fairly creaming her pants over this killer,” Cody said. “She sees it as a career maker.”
“We hope to soon have some hard evidence, to put a stop to these gruesome killings once and for all.” Agent Roberts smiled widely into the cameras again.
“You’d think he’d try being a little less cheerful considering the subject matter,” Tones said.
“Whatya expect—he’s a wanker, pure and simple,” Cody said and the two of them knocked knuckles again.
Oberon barked with laughter.
Raven came to his feet. “If you have a moment, Oberon, can I talk to you in your office?”
The ursian sobered and stood up, slapping Raven on the shoulder. “Sure, come this way.”
Raven closed the door to Tones’s and Cody’s laughter and turned to Oberon, not really sure where to start.
“What’s on your mind?” Oberon leaned back in his chair.
Raven stood with his hands behind his back, looking up and straight ahead. “I want to resurrect the Draconus Nocti.”
The ursian’s eyebrows rose and he leaned forward. “Well, you certainly don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
“I don’t think we have time for that”—Raven dropped his eyes to meet Oberon’s—“do you?”
“No, I guess we don’t.” The ursian looked hard at him for a moment, then lowered his gaze to his hands clasped in front of him. “Do you know how to get in touch with the others?”
“A couple.” They were a hard, ruthless bunch and Raven would only bring back a select few. “But I don’t want to go back to old ways either. We need new blood.”
This time only one of Oberon’s eyebrows went up. “Like the twins?”
Chapter 18 - Draconus Nocti
Antoinette took her seat in the conference room across the table from Raven. Kitt came in with Oberon a few minutes later and pulled up just inside the door for the briefest of seconds, then she moved into the room.
The first of the autopsy photos appeared on the screen in gruesome color. “On past victims we found that the wound was started with a knife and ripped the rest of the way.” Kitt ran a finger along the image. “These edges are too precise to be anything but a blade.”
She dragged a picture in from the side to replace the current shot. Just as well. Antoinette wasn’t squeamish. The open chest cavity was a mess.
“Here and here are marks on the bone to indicate a rib spreader was used to open the chest—a major inconsistency. We also found a couple of long blond hairs caught in one of the grooves. Then there was the method of disablement—the one thing we have kept out of the press. This victim appeared to be disabled in the same way, but on closer inspection . . .”
She pulled the next image in from the side with her finger. The screen filled with a close-up of the back of the victim’s neck.
Kitt reached out and pointed to the gash. “This wound is a lot less precise than the others. While placement is almost correct, it occurred postmortem and the dimensions of the blade are inconsistent; however, the main thing that screams copycat is the absence of the Dark Brethren or any other symbols.”
“So if not our killer, it’s someone who knows almost all of the gruesome details,” Antoinette said, leaning forward. “Could we have a leak?”
“Maybe,” Oberon mused. “Raven thinks the assailant was female.”
Cody, looking like a model out of a surfer catalogue, stood up with a small notepad in his hands. “I might have some insight into that.”
Antoinette settled back in her chair.
“From what I’ve gathered so far, Carin Engels was an office psychopath. She would bully and pick on her employees, play favorites, then play them off against each other.
“Why?” Tones was asking what everyone seemed to be thinking.
“Psychopaths are all about power. They get their kicks by psychologically destroying others. I’ve done some digging and there was someone Ms. Engels currently targeted. This girl, the latest in a long line of victims, was at the scene, but she managed to evade me every time. And she was a blonde.”
“Excellent. Why don’t you and Bianca go have a chat with this girl,” Oberon said.
“Right on it,” Cody said, putting his little notebook into his pocket.
“The rest of you keep working on your assigned task.”
The ursian glanced at Antoinette and Kitt. “Can I speak to the two of you in my office before you go?” His eyes flicked to Raven, who gave him a discreet nod.
Oberon held the door and closed it after them before moving to his side of the desk. “I’ve been thinking about the twins and what we discussed earlier,” he said to Kitt. “And I think you’re right.”
“Good, so you’ll evaluate them?” Kitt asked.
He nodded. “I’m going to get Antoinette to put them through their paces.”
Antoinette felt totally lost. “What the hell are you two talking about?”
“Have you ever heard of the Draconus Nocti?” Oberon asked.
“They’re just a myth, a conspiracy,” Antoinette said, but the look on their faces told a different story. “Aren’t they?”
“Not exactly.” Oberon stood up and pulled a folder from the filing cabinet, then threw it on the desk in front of her. “They were elite covert soldiers for CHaPR—totally off-the-books black-ops.”
On the front of the folder was a yin-and-yang double-dragon symbol. Antoinette had seen it somewhere before, but couldn’t exactly pinpoint when and where. Inside listed the operations performed by the team, which were not only impressive but downright scary. The list of dead agents was even scarier.
“So who do you want me to evaluate?” Antoinette asked, still not sure where this was leading.
“My daughters,” Kitt said.
“But according to this file, the group was disbanded nearly twenty years ago. What’s it got to do with them?” Antoinette asked, confused.
Oberon sat back to take a folder from his draw, glancing at Kitt before handing it over to Antoinette. “This is a file on the Draconus Nocti’s top operative.”
Antoinette opened the file on an agent, code name Black Wolf, and Kitt craned over her shoulder. The stats on this agent were impressive: 1,493 successful missions and an indeterminate number of enemy kills all happening over a sixty-year period that included several wars. And his skills were also remarkable: sharpshooter, assassin, and tracker just to name a few. Then she turned to the photo of a man in an army uniform.
“Oh my God.” Kitt exhaled the words.
His hair was short but there was no mistaking those eyes.
Raven. The Black Wolf.
That’s where she’d seen the symbol before—Raven’s tattoo. She knew he’d been holding back. And no wonder—he was lethal on legs, and probably off legs as well.
Antoinette looked up at Kitt. “Okay. When and where?”
Kitt walked to her car in the predawn darkness. It’d been a long night and she just wanted to get home, have a long soak in the tub, and fall into bed. She hit the unlock button on her keys, the taillights flashed. As she reached out for the handle, she got a sudden impulse to open her door, jump in, slam it shut and get the hell out of there. Her skin tingled, her scalp crawled, and she had the distinct impression of being watched.
The parking lot was almost empty—a couple of cars, a pickup truck, and a big black SUV. Nothing moved even when she flicked her eyes to felian vision. She was out of touch with many of her Bestiabeo instincts and was probably just being paranoid. But every nerve in her body jangled like an alarm bell going off.
Kitt climbed in behind the wheel and tried to jab the key into the ignition, but missed. Her hands were shaking so badly, she dropped the keys on the floor. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and slowly released the air from her lungs. This serial killer on the loose had her imagining dangers that probably weren’t there. She snagged the keys off the floor with her fingertips and jammed the ignition key in. It wasn�
�t going to start, she just knew it . . . The engine roared into life on the first turn and she sighed, her head falling with relief onto the back of her hands clutching the steering wheel. After another moment, to pull herself together, she reversed the vehicle and drove out of the parking lot.
The early morning bluish gray sky was stained with splashes of pink and orange as she drove toward her apartment building. Kitt glanced up automatically at the rearview mirror, then looked to the road ahead but immediately flicked back to the reflection of a big black SUV with no lights following at a distance.
Was it the same one from the parking lot? She couldn’t tell, but wasn’t about to take any chances.
At the next intersection, she turned right instead of her usual left. The SUV turned right too. A couple of streets down and she took a quick left without indicating. Luckily, the roads were nearly deserted.
The SUV turned as well, but still kept its distance. She was pretty sure it was following her now. Right. Time to lose them. She hadn’t been the sister of an agent without learning a thing or two about driving, if nothing else.
After another right, she floored the accelerator then took the next quick left and a right again before reversing into a one-way lane. Less than a minute later, the black SUV sailed past without noticing her. She immediately backtracked the way she’d come and headed toward home, checking the mirror for any sign of her pursuer.
She parked in her spot near the apartment building and hefted her bag onto her shoulder. A few feet from her building’s door, the black SUV pulled alongside and a hulking great lump of a man in dark glasses and a dark suit jumped out and blocked her way.
She recognized him immediately by the close-cropped orange-and-black tiger-striped hair and the Celtic tribal tattoo on his right cheek—one of the Tiger Twins, she couldn’t remember which, Jericho or Joshua. They were the only set of rare identical twins in the Pride, until Kitt gave birth.
“Your father wishes to speak with you, Miss Kathryn,” he said, his eyes completely hidden behind the dark shades.
“It’s Dr. Jordan, and hasn’t he ever heard of a telephone?” Trust Tyrone to summon her presence like this.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he said. “But you’ll have to take that up with the Alpha, I’m afraid. Please. Get in the vehicle.”
The SUV was the same one that followed her earlier. “Couldn’t you just have approached me back at the Academy instead of scaring me half to death?”
The dark glasses made it difficult to gauge his mood, especially with his stony facial expression. “We were only ordered to keep watch over you at that point.”
“Keep watch? Why would you need to keep watch?”
“That is also something you must take up with the Alpha”—he waved to the back door he held open—“Now, please, ma’am. Come with us.”
She didn’t have a choice. If she refused to get in the car, then they would just make sure she got in. She did as was told and after closing the door, he came around the vehicle to get in beside her.
The driver looked in the rearview mirror and gave her a quick-greeting nod before driving off. The identical tattoo to his twin was mirrored on his left cheek. The two brothers sat in silence the entire trip through the city, until they pulled up outside The Plaza. Her father liked the atmosphere of the historic hotel, especially if he wanted to impress. Only she wasn’t the one he’d be trying to impress. She was just a blip, an annoyance he had to deal with.
The hotel door attendant opened the SUV door and held out his hand to help her from the vehicle. She climbed the red-carpeted steps and entered the beautiful marble lobby with the Tiger Twins close behind. Last time she was here was to attend the murder of a couple of fang-whores.
The elevator seemed very small as she moved to the back with the Tiger Twins standing in front.
“Wait for the next one,” one of the brothers growled as a well-dressed elderly couple tried to enter.
“We can wait a few more minutes.” The elderly man pulled his wife back a few steps.
“But, Henry . . .” She started to puff up self-righteously.
“Zip it, Mavis. What’s a few more minutes?”
Wise man, Henry. He could obviously tell trouble when he saw it.
Kitt’s stomach flipped as the doors closed. It’d been several years since she’d seen her father, and then he’d been angry and disappointed. Not because she’d defied him, but because Dylan had taken her side, forcing him to exile them both. As the Pride Alpha, he could not afford to look weak, and Dylan had been the son he started grooming to take over from him until the exile.
Alpha males had to step down after fifty years to stop the Pride from stagnating under the same leader. Her father’s term was almost up; Nathan was out of the question to follow him, given his unfortunate birth. The Pride would never follow an unlucky leader.
The elevator came to a stop and opened. Her heartbeat picked up. Now it was more the excited terror of seeing the male who had sent her away in shame. Would he still be angry? She’d soon find out. One of her escorts knocked on the door.
“Come in.” She could hear her father’s growl through the closed door, and all of a sudden she realized how much she’d missed him.
The door opened from the inside. Several other dark-suited men sat or stood around the opulent suite. All her father’s men.
Tyrone Jordan’s midnight black hair kissed the collar of his expensive Italian suit as he stood with his hands behind his back, looking out over Central Park. He didn’t turn to greet her. Nathan sat on the sofa in pale gray Armani, his legs crossed and sipping tea.
“Hello, Tyrone.”
His broad shoulders stiffened slightly, as if he steeled himself to look at her. He turned, his eyes softening for a brief second before hardening and looking away again. She’d forgotten how much Dylan resembled him, and the knot in her chest tightened. Had her father missed her?
At least a little?
“Thank you for coming,” he said with a formality he usually reserved for strangers or outsiders.
In a way, she was both.
“It’s not like I had a choice,” she said, using anger to mask the knife twisting in her heart at his refusal to even look at her.
“I asked you here, Kathryn”—he always used her proper name—“because we have heard about the murders at the campus and have several students attending this year. Do we need to fear for the Pride children’s safety?”
Is this all he has to say to me after eighteen years?
She sighed. “We don’t know. There are people looking into the deaths, but at this point there are no answers.”
“I hear that my s—” He stopped, pain flashed briefly and he blinked it away. “That your brother’s former partner is looking into it. Is this correct?”
He was about to say his son—he was grieving for Dylan, after all. But the knowledge only made her angrier. He could’ve acknowledged him if it wasn’t for his stupid sense of duty.
“His name is Oberon. Remember? Once you treated him like a son.” When Oberon chose to leave along with Kitt and Dylan, he’d left behind his welcome in Pridelands.
Her father’s stony silence was the only answer she was going to get.
“Okay, so he’s involved,” she said.
“She’s not telling you everything.” Nathan looked over the top of his teacup at her.
Why did her brother hate her so much? “He’s head of security at the campus and asked me to consult on a couple of autopsies.”
“I want you to find out everything that’s going on.” Her father walked around behind her.
“I’m not part of his team,” she said.
“You have access. If you want back in, prove your loyalty.” Tyrone came around to the front, again standing close.
“Okay, but there’s a price.” She looked at him. “I want some time with my daughters.”
“Out of the question,” Nathan spat, rising to his feet.
Tyrone leaned in, sear
ching her eyes—looking not only at her but into her. “Done.”
“But, sir—” Nathan started to object.
“I said, done.” Tyrone’s voice held such command. “You can have an hour at Nathan’s house.”
Her brother closed his mouth, and his eyes burned with pure hatred.
“I want two hours, and alone,” she said. “No bodyguards and on neutral ground.”
For a moment she thought her father would refuse, but then he nodded slowly. He moved away and locked eyes with his son. Something she couldn’t read passed between them.
“What can you tell us about the four murders so far?” Tyrone said, his gaze still holding her brother.
“There have been three by the serial killer,” she corrected.
His head snapped around, eyebrows raised as he hit her with the full force of his gaze. “How so?”
“The latest killing was a copycat.” She felt Nathan’s scowl boring into her. It didn’t matter what she did or said—while Nathan had any sway, she was never going to be able to convince her father to let her back into the Pride.
“Good,” Tyrone said, satisfied, and continued to stare at her as he moved in so close they almost touched. He leaned in over her shoulder, his mouth ending up by her ear. “But you jerk me around on this and you’re done.”
He knew.
Somehow he knew that the latest killing was a copycat. It was a test. One she’d passed.
“Your mother wishes to see you,” he said softly.
Kitt turned her head to him. “How is she?”
“She grieves for the children she’s lost.” His grief was raw; the naked hurt clouded his blue eyes.
He blamed her. “Father, I—”
The shutters closed; his face grew stony and unreachable as his gaze flicked to the men behind her.
“If you want to see her, you must go with Jericho and Joshua now.” He turned and started to walk away. “It’s a once-only deal.”
The Tiger Twins stepped forward, one taking her gently by the elbow.
I’m going home.
They guided her to the elevator.
I’m going home.
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