by C. D. Hersh
“I don’t know what it is.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied Delaney. “What is this about? Might help me figure out what I’m searching for.”
A long, slow breath escaped from her as Delaney considered what, or how much, to tell Katrina. She could keep a secret. Her life was full of them as an occult hunter. She stood waiting, patiently, concern creasing her forehead.
Delaney scanned her. No dirty brown cloud of insincerity showed anywhere in her basic orange-yellow aura. If telling her would make the investigation go quicker, maybe she should. Delaney sighed, and jumped into the truth she’d been withholding.
“Katrina, this is top secret. No one else, and I mean no one, needs to know about this.”
“You know you can trust me.”
“My daughter has been missing for nearly a month.”
“Oh, my gosh! Do the authorities know?”
“No, and I can’t tell them.”
Katrina seemed puzzled. “But-”
“It’s complicated,” Delaney interjected. “Of a supernatural sort, if you get my drift.”
A surprised “O” formed on Katrina’s lips. “Alive, dead, or in a coffin complicated?”
“Alive, although I suspect my daughter is dead.” The last word was barely a whisper that caught in her throat as she spoke.
Moving toward her, Katrina gave her a hug. “I’ll help you catch this monster, whatever he is.”
“Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”
“One more question,” Katrina said as she released her hold on Delaney. “How did you know I wouldn’t freak out about the supernatural stuff?”
“I’m FBI. I know all about you.”
When Katrina visibly stiffened, Delaney hastened to add, “I can keep a secret. Remember the incident last year? The one where we first met?”
“Yes, you saved me from the animal attack.”
“I was tracking you that night.”
“Why? Am I in trouble with the FBI?”
“No, but you do shoot a mean silver bullet and drive a pretty sharp stake when it’s necessary. Your extracurricular activities appeared on someone’s radar. I shut it down.”
“Thanks.” Katrina breathed sigh of relief. “You didn’t freak out when you discovered what I was doing?”
“You’d be surprised at the strange things I see working for the FBI. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
“So is yours.” She lifted the bag. “I’ll get on this first thing in the morning. If the lab has what I need I should know in a couple of days.”
“The sooner the better.” Alexi wouldn’t keep quiet for long.
Chapter 31
Rhys fingered the carnation in his lapel and smoothed his blond goatee for the hundredth time. Facial hair felt wrong on him, although Alexi said she loved it. Maybe they’d do some mimic lovemaking when, or if, the romantic sparks ever weakened. He remembered what had happened when they’d made love wearing the Turning Stone rings. He’d have to find other ways to keep the spark alive. She still wasn’t keen on mind shifting.
A blonde, dressed in all black with what had to be a six-inch silver Celtic cross dangling on her chest, entered the restaurant. Rhys waved at her, and she smiled and walked toward him.
“Ms. Romanovski?” he asked, rising from his seat.
“Yes.” She flashed him a brilliant smile and pointed at his carnation. “Mr. Landow, I assume?”
“In the flesh,” he said, although that wasn’t exactly true.
His current shift was composed of a little bit of this man and a little bit of that man, a trick Alexi said wasn’t usually possible. He remembered the dead shifters who had come into the morgue, with bits of various shifts still visible on their dead corpses. Made identifying them almost impossible. She had assured him no part of the fictional Mr. Landow would remain with him since he wasn’t doing anything illegal or evil using this mimicked form.
He motioned to the chair, indicating she should sit. She chose to stand.
“I’m a bit rushed today,” she said. “If you don’t mind, would you simply tell me what you need?”
Rhys removed two clear plastic bags numbered one and two, containing the vials with the sputum from Roc and himself, and held them out to Katrina. “I need to know if these DNAs match. I think the persons who provided the samples are related.”
“Siblings?” she asked as she reached for them, “Or parent and child?”
“Siblings,” he said, keeping them a hair’s breadth from her fingertips. “It’s vital this doesn’t get out, Ms. Romanovski.”
Leaning forward, she grasped the bags. “No problem, Mr. Landow.”
“Do you still have my cell number?”
Patting her purse, she said, “I’ll let you know as soon as I get the results.”
He slid an envelope across the table. “We didn’t talk about payment. Hopefully, this will cover it.”
She opened the envelope and rifled through the bills. “Holy cow. This is way too much.”
“Peace of mind doesn’t have a monetary limit for me. Are we clear on your instructions?”
She nodded. “Loud and clear.”
“I’ll be waiting to hear from you, Ms. Romanovski.”
Then he walked away from the table, glancing at the reflection in the front window. Katrina fingered the bills in the envelope. He hoped a week’s pay would keep Ms. Romanovski quick and quiet.
As he left the restaurant, he dialed Roc’s number. The meeting went quickly, and he had some time to spare. Already shifted, he might as will use the mimic to spend some time with the evil Promised One.
Roc answered on the third ring.
“It’s Rhys,” he said when Roc asked who was calling.
“Didn’t recognize the number,” he replied. “Are you hiding our meetings with a burner phone?”
“Something like that. Do you have time to meet me today? Say, right now?”
“Have you had lunch? I know a place around the corner from the Dew Drop Inn that’s out of this world. Are you coming shifted?”
“Yes. I’ll be the one with the blond goatee, wearing a carnation.”
“Perfect. I’ll meet you at the Dew Drop. We can walk to the bar from there.”
Rhys spotted Roc the minute he walked in the door to the Dew Drop. He laid a couple of bills on the table to pay for his iced tea and went toward Roc. “Where’s this restaurant?” he asked.
Roc spun on his heel and headed out the door. “Not far.” He pointed at the carnation in Rhys’ lapel. “Different look for you. Special occasion?”
He plucked the flower from his jacket and tossed it into a street trashcan. “Doing some undercover work.”
“Shifted?” Roc asked incredulously.
“That’s need to know, and you don’t.” They went down an alley, and Rhys stopped. “Where are you taking me? Doesn’t seem like there would be anything here but trouble.”
“Relax,” Roc said, “I’ll protect you.”
Rhys spun around to leave, but Roc grabbed his arm. Shifter electricity shot over Rhys’ biceps, stinging like taser voltage. Blood rushed through his veins, pumping loudly in his ears.
“If you’re screwing with me, you’re the one who is going to need protecting.” Shaking off Roc’s grasp, he said with a growl, “Tell me where we’re going or I’m leaving.”
“Rogueman’s Bar and they serve one helluva hamburger.”
“Rogueman’s as in rogue shifters?”
“It’s about time you met the other half of the world we’re going to rule.”
For a second he hesitated. No one knew where he was. He had no back up. This was idiocy to follow Roc into the lion’s den.
Roc gave him a stare that
screamed Dare ya! “What’s the matter? Aren’t you ready yet?”
This was what he’d signed on for. Outwit the bad guys. Take down evil to save the world. Alexi and Eli would kill him if they found out. But he couldn’t figure out who tried to kill her if he didn’t get into the thick of the enemy.
He motioned for Roc to lead the way. “I’m ready.”
The wave of shifter sensations as they opened the door took Rhys by surprise. He paused inside the entrance to get his balance. Red and green auras pulsed from wall-to-wall. Broken auras blinking wildly along with steady ones. Every single one banded in black. The place was crawling with rogues. He stepped backward toward the door, but Roc urged him forward.
“It’s okay. No one here is skilled enough to tell you aren’t one of us.” He pointed to a table tucked in the corner on the left side of the bar. “Let’s sit over there. You can have the wall.”
Good thing Roc offered the corner seat, because if he hadn’t, Rhys would have jerked him out of the proffered chair. No way would he sit with his back to this bunch.
“Johnny,” Roc hollered to the barkeep. “How about some service over here?”
The redheaded bartender hurried over to the table, a towel thrown over his arm. “What’ll be, mates?”
“Beer?” Roc asked Rhys.
Rhys gave him a thumbs-up.
“Two drafts, Johnny, and a couple of the house burgers.”
Johnny stared at Roc. “Mr. Decker? Is that you?”
His countenance melted away, his normal persona taking over. “What gave me away?”
“Your voice.”
Rhys decided to keep quiet. He sounded too much like Roc. He tucked the bit of information away. Knowing their voices were distinct might come in handy.
“If you’re wanting Sylvia, she’s not here,” Johnny said.
“I know. She’s off on some mission for Falhman.” Johnny became white at the mention of Falhman. “I’m not here in my official capacity, Johnny. You can quit shaking like coins on a belly dancer. I only want lunch.”
“Sure, Mr. Decker. Right away, Mr. Decker.” Then he scurried off like a hamster racing on a wheel.
“We strike fear in their hearts, bro,” Roc said. “Kinda cool, don’t you think?”
“I prefer respect.” Sure was strange staring at his own image. “Are you sure shifting openly was wise?”
“I’m the rogues’ Promised One. If they don’t know who I am, how am I going to get the respect you think so important?”
“Earn it?”
“Technically I have. I’ve spent my whole life preparing for this job. I’m more powerful than anyone in this bar-”
“Except for me,” Rhys interjected.
He shrugged. “Remains to be seen. But, you’re proving my point here. We”-he pointed his finger at Rhys then at himself-“are the two most powerful men in this entire magical world. Think of what we could do together. Doesn’t the prospect intrigue you?”
“With great power comes great responsibility,” Rhys said. “The potential for misuse is huge. Before we’d begin this partnership, I’d want to be sure your heart is in the right place.”
“My heart is with you, bro.” Roc grasped Rhys’ forearm. “Do you feel that? Our blood singing in our veins?”
He felt it. He wrapped his hand around Roc’s other arm, forming a complete circle. The air hummed around them. Under Rhys’ grip, Roc’s pulse quickened, then Rhys heard their heartbeats, out of rhythm for a second, then in tune, beating as one. Roc’s eyes widened and his energy flowed into Rhys. He broke the hold.
“What the hell was that?” Roc asked, his voice trembling.
“What you said,” Rhys answered. “Our blood singing in our veins.”
His own pulse slowed, the anxiety about being surrounded by rogue shifters gone. He was stronger than Roc. Now that he knew, he would bring him to the good side, or die trying.
His cell phone rang and he answered it.
“Temple, where the hell are you?” asked Captain Williams.
“At lunch.”
“Get your butt back to the precinct. We’ve got another dead body.”
Rhys mouthed, Gotta go, to Roc.
Putting his thumb and index finger together, he made an okay sign and asked, “Rain check?”
Nodding, Rhys stood and laid a ten-dollar bill on the table. Concerned another mimicked shifter had been found, he asked the captain for details as he left the bar.
“I don’t have much yet, other than the shipping authorities discovered the body of a partially decomposed woman in a coffin which had been shipped to Alaska.”
“She wasn’t embalmed?”
“No, but her coffin mate was.”
Rhys checked the alley and, seeing no one, shifted into himself. The feeling of bone and sinew reforming still felt foreign. “Why send her to us?”
“The point of origin for the coffin was a funeral home in our precinct.”
“Which one?”
“The same mortuary that handled Alexi’s funeral.”
Rhys’ heart jumped into overdrive. Another shifter connection. Not a good sign.
Chapter 32
Harry stood beside the stainless steel table as the coroner peeled the zipper down the body bag then opened the second bag containing the corpse. The escaping odor caused him to recoil as he glanced at the body inside. Blond hair matted around a face splotched with decay. Glazed, Caribbean-blue eyes stared expressionlessly at the ceiling.
Somewhere, a family was searching for her. A mother or father. Or maybe a husband, although the spouse was usually the first suspected of foul play. She was probably about the right age to be his daughter, if he had one. He thought of Alexi. A few weeks ago, he’d thought she was dead. His stomach rebelled, knotting. He was getting too old for this job.
Unable to keep his focus on what had once been a beautiful young woman, he looked away. How the medical examiner dealt with this day in and day out amazed him.
“Any idea how she might have died?” Harry asked.
“Too soon to say, but judging from the marks on her throat, I’d say she was probably strangled. I should have some more information for you in a couple of days when we’ve finished the autopsy and sent out for dental records. We’re lucky the casket exploding from the buildup of the decomposition gases didn’t do more damage. Had the coffin been buried before the pressure of the gases built we would have never found her.”
“We can thank the Alaskan frozen tundra. The report says the coffin was shipped about a month ago and stored outside in a cemetery to wait for the spring thaw.”
“The cold temperatures helped keep the body from decomposing beyond recognition,” the coroner added. “Will make my job easier.”
“We’ll start checking on things on our end. I want to solve this before Ramsey or Riley get wind of it. Would be nice to handle one case without the two of them sniffing around.”
The morgue door whooshed open. He twisted in the direction of the noise in time to see Katrina Romanovski enter. Exactly what he needed. Delaney’s little spy. He stepped forward and blocked her from the body on the table. “What are you doing here, Ms. Romanovski?”
She drew up short, peeking around him. “I’ve got some tests to run. What are you doing here?”
“My precinct,” he replied. “I’ve got the right to roam any department I want.”
“Yes, you do,” she said as she sidestepped him. “But you don’t have the right to be rude.” She stared at the body on the table, a frown creasing her forehead. “She’s a little rough.”
He blocked her again. “Didn’t you say you had something to do?”
Pushing him aside, she moved to the head of the table. As she neared the woman, she clapped her hand over her mo
uth and stifled a cry. “I know her.” She faced Harry, eyes wide. “What happened?”
“You know her?” he echoed. “Who is she?”
“She’s the daughter of a friend.”