“Who could have done this?” Her voice lowered to a hoarse whisper.
He had his suspicions, all of which he couldn’t share with her. This was preternatural business. Leroy may have wanted to spend the morning with Juliet, but his untimely death dragged her into this mess. Half angels didn’t usually buddy up with humans, even if... His gaze slid down Juliet’s curvy body and back up again. Even if the human looked like Miss Romeo. She grieved for Leroy. No doubt about it. Her emotions were thick as the blood splattered on the walls.
“This was personal. No one kills with such rage without knowing the vic,” she voiced her opinion.
She obviously didn’t know many Hashasheen demons. They enjoyed the kill almost as much as they enjoyed the hunt and they didn’t have to even know the vic’s name. With a quick once over though, he dismissed the Hashasheen demons of the crime.
He crouched down to examine the bloody flesh at the foot of the table. Edges of the flesh were black as if fire had been part of the torture. His hand reached out to touch it, hoping to pick up a signature reading of the being responsible for the carnage. He wasn’t very good at it, but it was worth a shot.
“What are you doing? Stop!”
Juliet’s shrill warning brought him up short. For a brief moment, he didn’t understand the horrified expression marring her otherwise perfect features. Then he realized humans didn’t touch blood without protection. The Fallen had very few things to thank their fathers for, but a supreme immune system happened to be one of them. “I wasn’t going to touch.”
She gave him a narrow-eyed look, indicating she thought he was full of it. “I’m calling this in. We need a forensic team.” Her hand slipped into her pocket, pulling out her cell.
Great, call in the humans to muck up the job. If he still possessed his glamour, he’d make her forget this little scene and have her go home, but without his powers, he allowed her to make the call and hope for the best.
After a few brief words, she finished the call and placed the phone back in her pocket. “They’re on their way.”
“Then I’ll be seeing you.” He headed out of the kitchen and into the living room with Juliet close on his heals.
“Wait, where are you going. You need to make a statement.”
“You can handle that end.”
“You can’t leave. You’re a witness.”
He whirled to face her and she slammed into him. His hands whipped out to steady her, soft but firm arms met his grip. The woman was in shape. Of course just looking at her, he could have guessed she took care of herself. Her flawless peach skin, shiny hair, and curvy figure said it all. “You saw what I saw. You give the statement. I’m off this case.”
“What do you mean?”
“Leroy hired me to watch his coffee shop. Leroy is dead. No client. No job.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. He didn’t see the point in mentioning Leroy wanted him to meet someone. Maybe Leroy had meant Juliet. The Watcher had asked her over for a chat, too. Well, he made the introductions, and he’d go from there. Case closed.
Juliet’s face turned a nice crimson color of flushed pink. “You don’t want to know who did this to your…client?”
“Sure, but it doesn’t mean I want to waste my morning telling the police what you could easily tell them yourself.”
“You can’t go.”
His brows lifted. “Am I a suspect, detective?”
For half a second, she considered it. He could see it in the way her gaze slid over him as if looking for one tiny speck of blood. They both knew he’d be up to his eyeballs in gore if he butchered Leroy.
“Would it be easier if I handed you a magnifying glass?”
Her gaze riveted to his with a scowl. “Fine, go. But don’t—”
“Leave town.” A smile tilted his lips.
“No, I was going to say, don’t forget about the tryouts tonight.”
“Oh, I won’t forget.” He bowed like he would have in the old days, when Will Shakespeare, Kit Marlowe, and he would entertain the ladies. He wouldn’t miss practice. It was one of the bright spots of his day and with Juliet there, he’d also have the chance to spar with her again. “Until we meet again.”
She shook her head, but he didn’t miss her sweet smile before she turned away.
Chapter Ten
Zaiden LeGard headed the Guards of Judgment for the preternatural realm, taking care of rogue beings that refused to follow the rules when they lived among the humans. Part of the job included clean up measures. Rogues seldom left their crime scenes unsoiled.
A disturbing 9-1-1 call to the Orange Police Department triggered his senses, sounding too much like a preternatural kill. Zaiden used his glamour, shielding himself from the humans as he entered the house, ignoring the crime tape plastered on the porch. If needed, he would do a mind sweep of the humans involved, erasing their memories of ever being here. He didn’t like to do this. It took a lot of work and there was always the chance for a human witness to slip by him, causing another backlash of problems.
If only one human recalled the evil deed, the individual’s sanity would be in question. Zaiden had seen it happen. It was never a pretty sight to witness someone being dragged away strapped in a special white jacket, courtesy of the designate mental ward.
Zaiden’s glamour kept him cloaked from the homicide team doing their job. The bloody gore lining the walls of the kitchen turned his stomach, and he’d seen some gruesome crime scenes in his time. This one ranked in the top five of overkill. Leroy was one of the Watchers or so the files claimed. He lived at the residence for fifty some years. Usually Watchers didn’t stay that long in one place. When they didn’t age, people became suspicious. Only, Leroy had aged or at the very least used glamour to make it appear as if he did. He’d seen the pictures in the file from the young man to the older gentlemen with thinning gray hair. To keep up such a strong glamour, he had to be one of the original two hundred angels sent down to earth to live among the humans. Only they didn’t sit back and observe. God punished the Watchers, banishing them from Heaven. Zaiden often wondered how those originals went on, living century after century without finding an end to their punishment. Some, he supposed, made the best of it. Leroy Fennings obviously had been one of them.
His hand slipped into his designer jeans’ pocket and pulled out the PS device designed to pick up preternatural signatures. The rectangular bronze device measured no bigger than an I-phone, but thinner and lighter in weight. He held the device over the blood splattered on the black and chrome kitchen table. How did someone manage to slaughter Leroy in such a manner? Being a full-blooded Angel, his body should have turned to dust upon his death. Even the Nephilim returned to the earth in such a manner.
A series of bars scrolled as it read what it picked up. Then the screen cleared and Leroy’s face popped up. He frowned and moved to another spot near the stove to repeat the process all over again. A few seconds later, the results proved the same. He maneuvered his way around the woman who was probably the medical examiner since she looked to be taking tissue samples. She was petite, almond skinned and with big dark brown eyes. Attractive, he thought. He caught sight of the badge. Georgia Humphrey, medical examiner. He’d been right.
He crouched down beside her to run the scan over the lump of mutilated flesh. It was like Leroy had been put in a microwave and someone cooked him from the inside out, exploding him into the gore left behind. The screen flashed on the PS. Leroy’s smiling face appeared on the screen. “Poor bastard.” No one deserved this kind of death.
“Hey, you.” Zaiden didn’t bother turning around. No one could see him while he used the glamour.
“Stop what you’re doing. Now.”
The woman’s tone of annoyance held a rough edge, bordering on royally pissed off. He recognized the tone. It was the same one Sarice used when speaking to her brother, Blaize, right before she pummeled him. The two Darklins were like wildcats, spitting and hissing at each other over one disagreement or another, but
there was no doubt the two cared about each other. If it came down to a fight, they’d have each other’s backs.
Out of curiosity, he pivoted on his feet, leveling his gaze at the female barking orders. The woman possessed fine long hair, the strands more orangey red than gold. She wore civilian clothing, but the badge around her neck and the Glock in her hand told him otherwise. A female detective and a human, only this human could see him. For a moment he wondered if his glamour had slipped. His involvement with Sarice left him drained at times. Sex with a Darklin couldn’t be compared, but the extra indulgence of blooding proved draining—literally.
“What’s going on, Juliet?” Georgia stared at her with concern. He waved his hand in front of Georgia’s face. Nothing. Since the M.E. couldn’t see him, it was perfectly reasonable to assume his glamour still held.
This woman, what did the M.E. call her? Ah yes, Juliet. Zaiden stood slowly with his hands raised in mock surrender. “She can’t see me… Juliet,” he drew out her name in slow meaning.
Juliet’s eyes widened a fraction. “You’re one of them.”
“Excuse me?” the medical examiner asked, not realizing Juliet’s statement was meant for Zaiden.
“One of them?” Zaiden asked. “What do you mean? Quick human before they haul your pretty little arse out of here. How do you know about us?”
She understood her precarious situation and lowered the weapon. “Sorry, Georgia,” she told the medical examiner. “I’m a bit shaken over all this.”
Georgia’s features softened. “Honey, who wouldn’t be. Take a few minutes. No one will blame you.”
Juliet nodded. “I think I will.” As soon as Georgia returned to her work, Juliet’s eyes narrowed in on him again.
His brows rose at the human’s brazen regard.
She nodded her head toward the side door. He followed her outside, if only to find out how she could see him when no one else could.
Juliet strode to the side of the house, making sure to keep her back to the police officers at the end of the driveway. “Who are you?”
He didn’t see the harm in telling her. “Zaiden LeGard.”
“Did you kill Leroy?” she blurted out, fear radiating from her like a flashing beacon, but she still had the guts to confront him. Impressive.
“No.” He didn’t feel the need to elaborate.
She closed her eyes and let out a breath of relief. She knew Leroy, knew what he’d been. Most Angels, heck, even the Nephilim until recently didn’t befriend humans in this day and age. No one wanted to revisit the wrath of God. Fire, plagues, and floods weren’t to his liking either.
“Were you Leroy’s mate?” he asked carefully, gauging her response. Leroy had lived among the humans, away from the Otherworldly realm for half a century. Forming a relationship, even a forbidden one, wouldn’t have completely surprised him. Even the angelic became lonely at times.
“Mate? What? No.” She blurted out the responses without taking a breath. Making sure she hadn’t spoken loud enough to draw attention to herself, she looked over her shoulder at the officers. No one seemed to notice them—or her that is, since he remained cloaked. Her gaze found his once more. “Leroy was… my friend. He was…like you.”
“Something like that.”
She was a human who knew of the Nephilim world, the first he had run across, but then he didn’t converse with humans on a regular basis. Maybe there were more. “If you have anything to help me find who did this to Leroy, now would be the time to tell me.”
She shook her head. “I have nothing. Leroy liked everyone.”
“Someone didn’t care for him.” Zaiden narrowed his eyes.
She pressed her lips together, moistening them with her tongue. “Yeah. I would go with the Talaci demons first. He befriended a few of the younglins, a gang of teens who hung out at Pete’s place.” Her gaze wavered over him, sizing him up as if wondering if she shouldn’t clap handcuffs on him just for the hell of it. Not that those bracelets attached to her belt would keep him down. They weren’t made of iron or pure silver. He would have them off before she could say, ‘Book him.’
His lips twitched in spite of his attempt not to smile. The woman knew preternatural business. She was probably a good cop, too.
“How do I know you aren’t lying and you’re not the one who did this to Leroy?” she accused, but the accusation didn’t hold up. Her voice lacked conviction, but she wanted him to say it anyway.
He lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “I suppose you don’t, but you would be hard pressed to arrest me on suspicion.” This time he did smile, showing a little fang. Pointed incisors always put humans off guard, but not this female. His teeth didn’t faze her in the least.
Her gaze swept over him, the annoyance still evident in her eyes. “Answer me at least: Are we looking for someone human?”
He leaned forward, whispering in her ear. “I believe you already know the answer.” He was about to use his glamour to shimmer out of there, but a familiar scent tickled his senses. Lucca.
His gaze riveted to hers, pinning her down for the truth. “Has anyone been by other than the homicide team?”
Her finely shaped brows furrowed over the bridge of her nose. “A private detective was here when I arrived. Lucca Marlowe.” She shook her head. “I don’t believe he’s who you’re looking for.”
“No? Why’s that?”
“He’s human.”
Interesting. She could see him cloaked with the glamour, but she didn’t sense Lucca as anything but human? Ah, yes, Lucca’s wings were bound and so was his glamour. He’d been permitted healing powers only to be used on himself, a trigger to work when he’d been injured.
Lucca most likely didn’t kill Leroy. Right now, Lucca didn’t have his preternatural strength to take on an ancient full blood, but he’d still like to know Lucca’s involvement with the case.
His gaze wavered over the female again, looking for signs that she was more than human, but found nothing out of the ordinary. She befriended Leroy, knowing his nature. Preternatural beings didn’t scare her, which told him she lived her life in the shadows, too.
Her claim that Lucca happened by didn’t play out right to him. His scent layered hers. His brows furrowed. What was Lucca up to? The Watcher detested humans, been banned from the Otherworldly realm because of his hatred. So why was his scent wrapped around this human female as if he intended to mark her? He’d make a point to find out. “We’ll be in touch, I am sure.” He tipped an imaginary hat as he shifted, his wings spreading wide behind him. He wanted to shock her, put a chink in her armor, but the chit proved the one to surprise him.
Her lips spread into a quick courtesy smile. “Nice.” She nodded toward his wings in a nonchalant manner as if his impressive wingspread was no big deal to her.
“Are you sure you’re not one of the Nephilim?” he blurted.
Without another glance, she ducked under his left wing and strode past him. “You know the answer to that.” He heard the laughter in her voice and smiled, too. Her hips swayed with casual grace as she went back inside the house, letting the door close behind her without even a backward glance.
“Just who are you, Detective Romeo?” It wasn’t often a female, preternatural or not, surprised him. This one had intrigued him as well.
Chapter Eleven
Sitting at her desk back at the precinct, Juliet reprimanded herself for not finding out how to contact Zaiden LeGard. Dammit, that left it up to the Nephilim to contact her. Fat chance of that happening. The Nephilim were worse than the Fae when it came to revealing where they hung out, or calling you back for that matter.
The tall, dark-haired, half angel looked more like a warrior. His unnaturally ice-blue eyes reminded her of Raziel’s, but Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome wasn’t an Archangel. Raziel’s touch gave her the ability to know the difference. The half angel seemed too interested in Lucca Marlowe, too. Oh, he tried to play it off as a casual inquiry, but his eyes flashed brighter for that s
plit second before he asked the questions. For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why he wanted information about Lucca.
She tapped her pencil on her desk, a nervous habit that helped her think. She didn’t sense Lucca as anything other than human, but he did have Nephilim friends. Maybe Zaiden knew Lucca personally and hadn’t seen him in a while. Hmm… No, the Nephilim weren’t the friendly type.
“Lucca Marlowe.” She said his name, liking the way it flowed off the tip of her tongue. Her brows drew together at the strange thought. Really, it was just a name, a name belonging to an arrogant man. He left her with all the paperwork, but what did she expect? Lucca didn’t work for the department. He owned a private investigating firm where he was the boss and ran his own hours. Lucky him.
She did a little investigating of her own, curious to find out more about Detective Marlowe. She found nothing. Nada. Well, nothing out of the ordinary anyway. Everything was in order, as if someone created a neat little file for him. His records stated he worked up north, the Bay area, but retired last year to relocate. Really? Retired? He was too young for a pension. What was he, thirty-something? Not much older than she, but she couldn’t fathom a retirement any time soon. “Too squeaky clean.” Lucca Marlowe had to be more than he let on.
Maybe private sector in the military, running black ops came to mind. God knew his body looked especially made for the Navy SEALs or for the Green Berets—wide shoulders and thick biceps she couldn’t put both hands around. “Hmm…his hair’s too long.” They tended to go for the military cuts, buzzed to the scalp. Well, the Green Berets she ran across anyway, which weren’t many.
She tapped the end of her pencil on the desk in rapid succession. Lucca sported a thick shiny mane any woman would die for, but Lucca was in no way feminine in any shape or form. Beautiful perhaps in a godlike fashion, with defined cheekbones, chiseled chin and straight nose, but his eyes, the shade of blue like the winter storm sky, knew how to pin a person down and keep them there. Lethal, don’t-mess-with-me looks would make a hardened criminal comply. Lucca could most likely hold his own in a fight, heck, he had according to his friend and he came out the victor. No wonder he befriended the Nephilim. They were more in his league than an ordinary human would be.
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