Ravenheart (Crossbreed Series Book 2)

by Dannika Dark

  I decided to call him instead of waiting for a message. After four rings, it went to voice mail. Why wasn’t he picking up? I dialed again. As I turned in a circle, listening to the rings, I couldn’t help but notice there were no signs of remodeling. No lemon-scented cleaners, no nails, no pulled-up floorboards, no paint, no boxes, and definitely no power tools. There was also no furniture. An open area surrounded the staircase—a nice little place a person could put a few chairs and things. There was a door on either side and windows with heavy drapes along the front. A short hall led to some rooms in the back.

  My Vampire eyes didn’t take long to adjust from the light downstairs. A hall cut right down the center of the house. As I walked down it, I noticed the floors were white linoleum tile—a stark contrast against the black walls. I’d never seen anyone paint their walls black before, and it made the photographs hanging on them stand out all the more. Most were pictures of Glass’s mother; others looked like images of his father or other family members.

  But none of him.

  It was unusual for Breed to photograph themselves, let alone pose for a painting. It wasn’t illegal, and I guess his family felt safe doing it in a human neighborhood.

  Another text came in, and I glanced at the screen. Viktor said they were in a meeting and it was important for me to return home as soon as possible. Something about a pack of Shifters.

  I furrowed my brow and put my phone back in my pocket. Claude was there, and he was supposed to be a great tracker. The only thing I was good for was assassinations and lighting fireworks with my fingertips.

  I peered through an open door and wrinkled my nose at the musty smell. There were several trunks lined up against the wall, and old-fashioned dresses were hanging on racks inside plastic bags. The dresser had a row of five mannequin heads wearing wigs.

  “I really hope that’s not your room,” I whispered.

  I turned around and tiptoed to the door across the hall. When I peered in, I couldn’t resist flipping on the switch to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. My footsteps were whisper-quiet across the gold carpet beneath my feet. Unlike the macabre black walls just outside, these were a sumptuous gold. Each had a built-in bookshelf, and they were all empty except for the one in front of me, which was filled from top to bottom with shoes.

  His mother really owned every part of this house. Her own dressing room, her own shoe room… Except, what kept me from closing the door and returning to the living room was that not one shoe had a matching pair. I touched a glossy red heel, a sandal, a sneaker—each spaced ten inches apart. The shelves had lights and a button that switched them on, making this more of a display case than a simple shoe rack.

  “It’s almost ready!” Glass shouted from below. “Hope you like…”

  I couldn’t understand the rest of what he said, but I hauled ass out of the room and tiptoed downstairs, my heart racing.

  I waltzed in the kitchen, feeling a little guilty about snooping in his house. He was probably in the midst of letting go of all his mother’s belongings, and that was a hard thing to do.

  Glass had his sleeves pushed up and looked comfortable in front of the stove of his all-white kitchen. The fridge and dishwasher were along the same wall, and a curved island sat between him and the windows. The blinds were open, and the windows stretched all the way to the opposite side of the room by the kitchen table.

  “You don’t get much privacy in here,” I said.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “I have tall fences and vines in the back. It’s more private than it looks. I don’t think anyone is going to be spying on me cooking breakfast, do you?”

  I flashed a smile. “Depends on what you’re wearing. Or not wearing. A lot of frisky housewives live in the suburbs.” I set my bottle down and leaned on the counter, conflicted on whether I should chow down on his steak as fast as I could or let him know that Viktor had summoned me home. “So what’s going on upstairs?”

  He turned the steak over in the skillet and added more butter. “My mother’s belongings are still up there. I’m trying to get them all sorted and boxed. There’s no need to hold on to them anymore. I’m going to rip up the flooring and knock down a few walls. I don’t need that many rooms.”

  “You might,” I suggested. “If you find yourself a nice little wifey to have babies with.”

  That was a silly thing to say on our date. I lightly smacked myself in the face and stood up. “Have you thought about selling this place and moving to the Breed district?”

  He peered over his shoulder. “I’m used to the privacy out here.”

  I turned around and was heading toward the back door when I noticed another door to my left. Curious if it was the pantry, I reached for the handle.

  “Don’t open that,” he blurted out. “That’s, um, that’s the basement. There’s a bunch of moths living down there, and every time I open the damn door, they get in.”

  I let go of the knob. “Sounds like you need an exterminator. It’s a nice house, it’s just not you. Unless you’re really into the vintage look.” I glanced up at a picture on the wall of a fork and a spoon dancing. It seemed fitting considering how different we were. I also thought about Christian and how he would have made a spoon joke.

  Glass plated our steaks and set down the tongs before approaching me. He cupped my face in his hands, gazing deep into my eyes. It was like looking into the eyes of a wild animal, so I looked at his mouth. He had straight teeth except for one bottom tooth that was slightly askew.

  “Do you know why I asked you out?”

  “My sparkling personality?”

  “You’re different. I know firsthand how immortals scrutinize every little thing. It’s an old habit born of superstition and arrogance because of how some immortals are chosen. But it trickles over to the other Breeds—the ones who have no choice in what color hair or skin they’re born with. Or eyes,” he said, his thumb brushing near my lashes. “You don’t hide your defect or let it weaken you, and that makes you interesting to me. You’re not like the others.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “You don’t trust that Vampire, do you?”

  “Christian?”

  He let go and stepped back. “Vampires are the root of all evil. They feast on blood and murder indiscriminately.”

  I folded my arms. “Is that how you really feel?”

  He shrugged. “It’s just small talk.”

  “Ah. Since we’re small talking, what’s your first name? Now that you’ve cooked me a steak, it seems kind of trite to be calling you Glass.”

  “Will.” He turned around and pulled something out of the oven. “Actually, it’s Willard, but I never liked that name.”

  “Is that so?” I asked, turning around in sheer horror.

  Willard was the name of the man Penny was going to meet. How many men went by that name? Then I thought about the shoes upstairs that I’d assumed he was in the process of throwing away. None had a mate, and I bet if I’d lingered long enough I might have recognized the ones missing from our victims.

  Shutting off my emotions was something I’d been able to do all my life in times of crisis. But Chitahs left me uncertain. Could they scent a suppressed emotion? I stared vacantly out the back window, watching his reflection in the glass as he prattled on about his mother’s old-fashioned taste in names. I needed a minute alone to take a deep breath and come up with a plan.

  “Mind if I look at your back patio before we eat?” I asked.

  “Go ahead. I still need to uncork the wine.”

  After I closed the door behind me, I walked to the edge of the concrete and pulled out my phone.

  Great. I finally meet a nice guy, and he turns out to be a serial killer. Once again, destiny screws me over.

  Did Viktor know? Maybe that explained his discretion. This was a situation where I realized I needed to rely on my partner, so I sent a message to Christian.

  Raven: Can you come pick me up at Glass’s house?

  C
hristian: Date not going well?

  Raven: You could say that.

  Christian: My hands are full, lass.

  Raven: Does this mean I won our bet?

  Christian: Feck off.

  Raven: Come get me.

  Christian: I’m not your chauffeur. Call a cab.

  Raven: Glass is the killer.

  I waited for a reply.

  Christian was a pain in the ass—that was a given. But could I count on him to be there for me when I needed him? Would he believe me? I had a feeling Glass was going to go on as normal with the date, but if I sat with him at that table, my anger was going to burn his nostrils. There was no way I could hold in my emotions for that length of time. Hopefully the heavy aroma of meat and potatoes would shield me for a few minutes longer when I went back inside.

  Christian: Stay calm. I’ll be there in ten.

  “Stay calm, he says.” I put my phone in my pocket and considered jumping the fence. Not a good option. Chitahs were excellent trackers and could run just as fast as a Mage, if not faster. Plus he would know something was up.

  Then another thought popped into my head: Chitahs weren’t easy to take down. I’d gotten into an ugly fight with one in the past. They were strong, quick, and not someone you want to fight when they flipped their switch and went primal. But Glass trusted me to some extent, so what if I just did everyone a favor and killed him right now? Was there enough evidence? Maybe his name was a coincidence. It was probably a common name in the old days. Was I jumping to conclusions with the shoes? His mother’s things were all over the house, and maybe he’d gotten rid of some of them in the process of clearing the room.

  I gazed upward at a dark sky. What else did I have to go on? Glass was at the scene of both crimes, but then again, he was the detective.

  Which led to another conundrum. Accusing a detective of a crime was one thing, but killing him was something that could result in my arrest and execution. The higher authority didn’t play around when it came to Regulators and detectives who worked their cases. They were lawmen, and killing anyone who worked for the higher authority without rock-solid evidence was an act of treason.

  A knock sounded at the window, and I turned.

  Glass gestured for me to come inside, so I gave him an artificial smile.

  “And the best actress award goes to…” I opened the back door and drew in a deep breath. “That smells delectable. Do you mind if I wash my hands before we eat?”

  “Sure. The bathroom is down the hall on the left.”

  There was uncertainty in his voice, and I heard him draw in a deep breath as I sauntered by.

  “Dear God,” I hissed, shutting the bathroom door behind me and turning on the faucet.

  I needed to stall. If I went into that kitchen now, I was liable to stab him in the eye with my fork. I hadn’t brought any weapons with me since going to third base and having my date find a dagger between my legs might not be a vote of confidence.

  All things considered, my reflection in the mirror was pretty damn sexy. The matte lipstick was the color of a good merlot. Gem had lent me a powder for my chest and neck that had a reflective quality—like pixie dust. I didn’t go overboard on the black eyeliner since my lipstick was enough.

  Why the hell didn’t I put on perfume? I thought while searching his cabinets for anything that carried a strong odor.

  I poured mouthwash into my mouth and swished it around while rummaging through the cabinets beneath the sink. Towels, toilet paper, shampoo, but no cologne.

  Damn Chitahs!

  A lightbulb went off, and I spit the mouthwash into the sink. After closing the cabinets, I hurried to the toilet in search of air freshener. I hoped for a can of the spray kind, but all I could find were ones with the sticky center. I pulled the cap as high as it would go and jammed my finger in the crack, pinching off as much of the pine scent as I could and then rubbing it all around my neck and armpits. Where did emotional scents originate from? I assumed maybe the glands, but who knows, maybe they shot out of my belly button.

  I flushed the toilet again and watched the water swirl around the bowl. I used it as a form of meditation and searched for a funny thought to throw off my scent of suspicion and alarm.

  And the first thing I thought of was Christian’s DRINK ME tattoo. I snorted and breezed out of the room, ready to continue my date.

  Smelling like a pine tree.

  When I took a seat at the kitchen, Glass winced and twitched his nose.

  “Hello, darling,” I said to the steak. “Is it bloody or burned alive?”

  “Medium rare. The potatoes didn’t come out the way I liked.”

  I poked at them and wondered if he’d put sedatives in the food. Chances were this was a legit date, but I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse about the situation.

  “Do you mind if I just grab my beer bottle?” I asked, having second thoughts about the wine he’d already poured in my glass. Sometimes too much alcohol made me audacious, and I still didn’t know if this was a dangerous situation or my imagination gone awry.

  I got up and retrieved the bottle I’d left on the counter, then gave it a swirl before taking a swig. “Do you have any family portraits? I’d love to see your father and what you looked like when you were younger.”

  “Some, but they were careful not to include me in them. It’s better that way.” He ate two large bites of his steak, not even waiting for me start. “How long have you been a Mage?”

  “Long enough to see that there’s too much crime in this city. It’s a good thing there’s a man like you to make sure all the crazy murderers are put where they belong.”

  “Not all are crazy,” he said matter-of-factly, slicing his steak. “Some are intelligent, educated men.”

  “I guess they keep you busy.”

  “They keep both of us busy.”

  I lifted my beer and took another sip.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked. “It’s getting cold.”

  “I like it better that way. I have a sensitive stomach.”

  I was starting to feel that old familiar itch, the one that had driven me into the profession of hunting and killing criminals to begin with. The one that had me fantasizing about plunging my steak knife into his chest and showing him that he couldn’t just go around taking the lives of good women like Penny Burns. Then I heard Viktor in my head talking about evidence and motive. There seemed to be plenty of incriminating evidence, but what was his motive? Glass was a decent-looking man with a nice job.

  “How do you normally meet women?” I asked. “Do you date outside your Breed a lot? Sorry to ask, but I’m curious because I don’t seem like your type.”

  He coughed into a napkin and wiped his mouth. “You’re right. You’re the opposite of the women I normally pursue.”

  I stabbed my fork into the steak, keeping a smile on my face. “Opposite in looks or Breed?”

  His mouth turned down as he quartered a few small potatoes. “Both, I guess. I prefer Chitah women, but most of them are too particular about what they want in a man. Suffice it to say that it’s harder to date them because many won’t waste their time on a man who isn’t their kindred spirit.”

  I’d heard the term kindred spirit before and assumed it was the Chitah version of a soul mate. They had special gatherings that happened every few years just to find their true love.

  “You don’t believe in kindred spirits?” I asked. “Or you don’t care?”

  He took a large gulp of wine. When he set down the glass, he shifted his gaze to meet mine. “I met my kindred many years ago.”

  That took me by surprise. I let go of my fork, the prongs still impaled in my meat. “And? What happened?”

  Glass suddenly closed his mouth, but not before I caught two of his canines sliding down. He lifted his napkin and pretended to wipe his mouth. “These are personal questions, Raven.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “I thought we were getting personal?”


  He set down his napkin but kept his mouth closed. After a few moments, Glass rose from the table and turned his back to me, staring out the window into the darkness. “A Vampire seduced her. Do you know enough about Chitahs to understand what kind of torment that inflicts? When it comes to kindred spirits, females don’t feel the pull as we do. Only the men have a physical and emotional response to meeting our kindred, and it consumes us like nothing you can imagine. It’s a fire burning deep and bright—one that compels us to pursue her and only her. That’s why we believe in courtship. There is always a chance we could lose her favor—soul mates or not. For her the choice is simple, but for us—just imagine going through the rest of your life knowing that the woman born for you has chosen another. And not just any other man, but a Vampire. You’ll never be whole; you’ll never find that perfect match again.”

  “That hasn’t stopped you from dating.”

  “Life goes on.”

  I tapped my finger against the rim of my plate. “How many women have you courted?”

  “None.”

  “Why? Were you not up to their standards, or were they not up to yours?”

  The energy in the room shifted, and I inched my left leg around the chair in preparation to bolt.

  The motive against Vampires seemed clear to me. One snatching his woman out from under him must have been a blow to his ego. No wonder he seemed threatened by Christian as my partner. Was this some sort of sick game of pursuit in order to relive his past and come out the champion? Still, it didn’t explain why he was killing women in the first place.

  Glass drew in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before turning to face me. He put his hands in his pockets, a mechanical smile on his face. “Would you like to see something?”

  I jumped in my chair when the doorbell rang.

  Alarm flickered in his eyes, and he grabbed the knife off the table before heading to the door. “Stay here,” he said. “I never have visitors.”