by T. G. Ayer
“This dude isn’t a god,” Vee said, trying to make the hellhound feel better.
But Syama shook her head. “You should get backup first.”
Vee laughed. “You’re taking this a little too far, Syama. If you’re so afraid to come out with me, then maybe you need to quit your job and go back home.”
Syama glared at Vee, her eyes flashing fury. A low growl reverberated around the car and Vee lifted both hands off the wheel in mock surrender, “Sorry.”
“Vee!” Syama screeched and glared at Vee’s hands, both of which were still in the air, four inches off the wheel.
Vee took the wheel again, amazed at how easy it was to rile Syama up. But she had to admit that playing around with Cressida—aka Chellama Goddess of Scorpions—was a dangerous thing.
Cressida had arrived from Naraka a few years ago and had taken over the city’s underworld, a new force to be reckoned with. Rumor had it that she liked younger men, but from her behavior towards Vee one had to wonder if she had a thing for the girls too.
Whatever her preferences, it didn’t bother Vee as long as the goddess stayed away from her.
Coming from the underworld, Cressida was well-versed in contracts, and had bound many a rakshasa fresh from any one of the seven hells into an indentured servitude which if they were not careful, would last a lifetime.
Considering most demons possessed lots of longevity, Vee was certain that far too many demons still owed Cressida their lives. No wonder Benny had been so reluctant to be returned to her.
Syama was quiet as Vee drove toward Westwood Heights, and coasted through the deserted streets. The homes here had fallen victim to the last market crash. Too many for foreclosures and not enough people wanting to buy.
Boarded up windows and unkempt gardens lined the streets, while the occupied homes stood out like sore thumbs.
The address they were sent to was once such house, lit up like a Christmas tree.
“A little early in the day for full party mode. Maybe we should come back another time?”
Vee shook her head. “What better time to visit than during a party. We’ll be safe enough. You can get us out if things go to shit.”
“You mean when things go to shit.”
Vee shrugged. Whatever.
She turned the engine off and got out, locking the car before heading up the path to the house. No need to knock either as the door was ajar, a small painted rock stopping it from shutting completely.
Quite the safety feature.
Vee shared a curious glance with Syama before the two entered and paused in the front hall. Straight ahead were stairs to the top floor and to the right and left were rooms thrumming with music, dense with undulating with bodies. Sunlight was certainly no deterrent to these revelers.
The heat inside the house was intense and ten steps in Vee felt the perspiration begin to gather at her nape.
Pulling at her aura sight, she focused on the people but her senses rebelled, making her feel sick. She doubled over and reached for the wall as the room began to spin.
“Dude, watch yourself,” a young guy weaved into the hall, held Vee by the shoulder and pulled her down the passage toward the kitchen. Inside, he pointed at two barstools.
“Sit,” he said. The word came out rhyming with hurt. Then he hesitated as he gave Syama a curious glance. A very interested, curious glance.
Vee obeyed partly because she needed to sit, and partly because the guy’s aura felt familiar . . . almost leonine.
Not good.
Closing the fridge he thumped a bottle of blackcurrant juice in front of Vee and scooped a glass from the cupboard behind him.
“Drink,” he poured, then set the glass in front her, again rewarding a sullen Syama with a hesitant look.
Vee obeyed, drank a few sips and put the glass down. She was trying to think of what to say when he tilted his head and studied first Vee and then Syama. “You guys are not from around here, are you?”
Vee shook her head but the young guy’s eyes were on Syama’s face. She glared at him, but Vee noticed the softening in her gaze before she looked away.
Interesting.
Vee cleared her throat. “We’d like to see Nivaan.”
His eyebrows quirked, “You would?” he asked, then his expression cleared a little. “You’re not here for the party.”
Vee shrugged. “We would have knocked, but the door was open . . .”
Apprehension flickered in his gaze and he shifted from one foot to the other. He looked up at the ceiling for the briefest second and Vee deduced that the alpha was one level up and their guide was deciding whether to tell the boss or not.
Admitting that Vee and Syama were there would also mean explaining how they’d entered without permission.
Not Vee’s problem.
She got to her feet. “I’d like to see him soon. I don’t have time to sit around waiting.”
When he hesitated again, Vee let out an impatient grunt and moved to walk past him. He put his hand out to stop her, and a low growl filled the air.
Vee glanced at Syama and shook her head. She didn’t want to scare the kid into fleeing. If he did she’d be forced to wander around a house filled with deadly shifters and probably be killed in the process.
He glanced around, his gaze falling on Syama, his eyes widening. Then he straightened and said, “Fine. Follow me, but if you get eaten then don’t blame me.”
Vee raised her eyebrows and Syama merely rolled her eyes. The boy turned on his heel and left, not even checking to see if they were following him.
He headed upstairs with both girls close on his heels. The old house creaked, but the sound could barely be heard above the thumping music from the party.
Two doors down on the left, he stopped and knocked before opening the door a crack. He poked his head inside and said, “You have visitors.”
A low baritone emanated with within. “Don’t have any appointments.”
“It’s a walk-in.”
The two spoke as if Vee and Syama were patients at a clinic. She had to steel herself against becoming annoyed. Thankfully, Nivaan, the lion mahabidala alpha agreed and the young shifter opened the door wider and waved them inside.
Syama paused on the doorstep and Vee gave her a nod. The hellhound never did attend interviews with Vee in human form. And it had been her own choice to forgo her ability to hide behind her glamor.
Vee entered the room and shut the door behind her. At the same time the man seated at the desk got to his feet. As she turned to face him, her breath caught in her throat and Vee’s stomach twisted with awareness.
Down girl. This is a suspect.
An extremely attractive suspect. But a suspect nonetheless.
He wore low slung jeans, a dark shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal tattooed arms. But his face caught her attention more than most men ever had.
High cheekbones, aquiline nose, deep green eyes that glittered beneath dark brows and a dimple in his cheek that amplified his amusement.
Vee shifted her jacket aside to reveal her badge. “I’m Special Agent Shankar with the FBI. I’d like to ask you a few questions if you have a moment.”
His eyes twinkled, as if he was considering saying something amusing but then he reconsidered and waved Vee to a sofa beside the window. He took the second one which sat at right angles to her, a small corner seating arrangement probably meant to be cosy.
She sat, but remained at the edge of the sofa, refusing to get too comfortable. Her insides did a somersault when his knee brushed hers as he got comfortable.
“So, what can I help you with, Agent Shankar?” his emerald eyes gleamed as he smiled at her.
Vee leaned forward. “We have reason to believe you may have a renegade on your hands.”
“A renegade?” his eyebrows lifted. He’d be unaware that she knew about his species. Many supernatural creatures lived among the rest of the citizens in the city, but tried not to draw attention to themselv
es.
“We’ve had two murders in the city. They appear connected, as if it could be the same perpetrator.”
He sat upright, his lazy slouch gone, his eyes intensely focused on her face. “And what do these murders have to do with us?”
Vee shook her head and leaned closer. “The victims were slashed to death, their insides splattered all across the scene.”
He lifted a brow, still unsure why it was relevant to him.
“The autopsy found remnants of claws within the wounds. Feline. Lion to be specific.”
His features tightened, the friendliness fleeing from his eyes, turning glowing emerald to a deep moss.
He got to his feet and went to the window, the light giving his profile a hard edge.
“Who sent you?”
Vee shook her head. Not much chance of her telling him that the scorpion goddess sent her. She’d probably pay for that indiscretion by becoming the main course.
“You know I can’t tell you. Not if I want to live.”
His lips curled. “What do you need to know?”
“The attacks happened over the last two nights. Anyone you can’t account for?”
He snorted. “I’m not a babysitter, Agent Shankar. I look after the interests of my people but I don’t know all their movements. I’ll need a little more information if you expect me to help.”
“Both victims were killed in the early hours of the morning, abdomens ripped open.”
“Bled out?”
Vee shook her head. “Dead before they hit the ground.”
His tilted his head, confused. “How so?”
“Hearts ripped out,” Vee said softly, taking the chance that he wasn’t the killer.
Huge leap of faith there.
Hopefully it wouldn’t backfire on her.
Nivaan’s back straightened as he looked over at Vee, “That’s not good.”
“I’m sure the victims agree.”
He sighed and headed back to his desk. Rifling in his drawer, he spent a few moments, dark head bent, shoulder-length hair screening his face.
Eventually he found it and withdrew a business card. Vee’s stomach tightened. Rectangular pieces of white paper were bad news in her books.
“I know someone that might be able to help.”
Vee headed to him reaching out for the card, but he pulled it away. “We go together.”
He held the card just out of her reach and caught a glimpse of the name:
Professor Amit Menon, Dean of Ancient History, UNYC.
Vee glared at Nivaan. “This is an FBI investigation.” She really didn’t have the time for these games. Or the patience for that matter.
His green eyes flashed, specks of gold glimmering their depths. “This concerns my people. I have a vested interest in the outcome.”
“More reason to have you remain uninvolved.”
“Fine,” he said, slipping the card into his back pocket.
Vee restrained the urge to roll her eyes, took a deep breath and leaped again. “Fine. We go together. But you are just an observer.”
Let’s hope I’m not going to live to regret this.
Chapter 24
He nodded and got to his feet, reaching for a jacket on the coat-stand beside his desk. On the next hook hung a doctor’s coat and Vee’s eyes widened.
“You are a doctor.”
“Thanks for letting me know.” His dimple deepened as he smiled.
“Sorry. I had no idea.”
His lips quirked in a crooked smile and he headed for the door.
“Wait,” Vee said softly. He paused and turned to face her. “How do I know I can trust you?”
He lifted a shoulder. “You don’t.”
She rolled her eyes, then took a moment to study his face. “Can you account for your whereabouts over the last two nights?”
Nivaan gave a tight smile, then nodded in the direction of the coat on the rack. “I had patients from eight to midnight on both nights.”
Vee frowned. That definitely ruled him out for the first murder, but not for the jogger.
She stared at him, allowing her sight to kick in as she studied his aura. Her heart raced as she waited for the aura threads to form, almost saying a prayer that his essence wouldn't match that of the killer or his accomplice.
Nivaan’s aura was all gold and green, and his lion was fierce as it raised its head in a challenge to Vee.
She let out a soft breath, more relieved than she’d ever admit. Still, she could only clear Nivaan of the murders but that didn’t guarantee he wasn’t involved somehow.
She had to make sure she kept her guard up.
“Satisfied,” he asked as a low growl filled the room.
Vee raised her eyebrows. “For now,” she said and followed as he turned and led the way.
His height and broad shoulders accorded him a certain sense of superiority which he wore well. But it wasn’t his height that Vee’s eyes were trained on.
Her examination of his posterior ended suddenly as he exited the room and almost tripped over the younger shifter who’d remained outside with Syama.
“What the-”
“Sorry, boss,” he said with an eyeroll.
“Krish, what did I say about lurking?”
“Sorry doc, we were just waiting until you two were done.”
“We’re done. And we’re leaving,” said Vee, giving Syama a pointed look as she headed down the hall. She didn’t look back until they were both outside.
Syama scurried to keep up. “What’s going on? Did he say anything? What did you find out?”
Vee glared at her. “Will you shush? He’s taking me to his contact. A professor at the university he thinks can help us identify the killer.”
Syama’s eyes narrowed. “So . . . he doesn't know who it could be?”
“As he said, he has a lot of people to oversee. I’m thinking it was a bit of a stretch to expect him to give us something concrete so quickly, but at least we have a least. Only problem is he’s insisting on coming with because he’s invested.”
Syama raised an eyebrow. “I guess he has a point. Lion mahabidala would certainly end up with a bad rap if the killer was one of his. His clan is small so the impact could be severe.”
“And you know this how?”
She smiled. “Krish is very talkative.”
Vee grinned as they reached the car. “Good for you.”
“Nothing’s going on,” Syama bit out.
“Did I say anything is going on?” asked Vee.
Syama didn’t get to reply. A car drew up and the passenger window rolled down to reveal Krish’s grin.
“Follow us,” he said, giving Syama a wink.
Vee grunted and gunned the engine, following close on their tail as they drove through the suburbs, heading back into the city to the university campus.
When Nivaan drew up outside the residence the Dean of Ancient History, Vee’s stomach did a somersault.
What was Nivaan getting them into?
Vee alighted and followed the lion alpha who’d left his side-kick in the car. She reached Nivaan’s side as he rang the bell, keenly aware as his thigh brushed hers while they waited.
The door opened to reveal a thin, tall man, broad shoulders, once-muscular arms gone to fat. He slipped his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose and peered at the pair.
“Ah. Dr Kailash. How nice of you to visit,” he waved him inside, giving Vee a curious glance.
“Professor Menon, I was hoping you have a moment to answer a few questions?” Nivaan asked, his tone low, respectful and soothing. And Vee found herself worrying about Nivaan’s loyalties.
The older man nodded slowly.
Vee and Nivaan hovered in the hall as Menon shut the door and headed past the room on the left. A common living area from what Vee could tell what with the number of backpacks and individual piles of the same books scattered on every available surface.
Menon pointed them to a small study at the end of the hal
l. Though small the room was covered in books, with wall-to-wall mahogany bookshelves and furniture, dark brown leather armchairs and a pair of ghastly-looking red-and-green checkered drapes.
He shut the door and motioned for them to sit at the two leather armchairs in front of his desk.
Menon took a seat opposite them and settled against the backrest of his office chair. Vee didn’t miss the well-coordinated furnishings, nor was she ignorant of their value. Mahogany was rare these days, and real leather even harder to find because of demand.
He himself behind the desk. “Now, what can I do for you, Doc?” Menon smiled but the expression failed to reflect in his eyes.
Odd.
“Thanks for seeing us on short notice, Professor.” He glanced at Vee. “This is my friend Vee Shankar. She’s interested in mahabidala rituals. As they pertain to ancient texts of course.” Nivaan gave a short laugh, clearing up any doubt as to whether Vee was meant to know about the species’ actual existence.
So that’s the way he planned to play this.
It was fine with Vee, and she decided it would facilitate the interview best to allow the shifter alpha to take the lead. Until she saw fit to ask her own questions, of course.
“Nice to meet you . . . Vee,” the Professor paused and stared at her for a moment longer than was necessary.
She smiled and took a seat while Nivaan talked. “We’ve been doing some research into rituals used by shifters within the context of ancient texts.”
The professor nodded, “And specific to lion mahabidala?”
Vee squelched a frown. All the man had done so far was repeat what he’d been told.
Nivaan nodded. “We know that invocation of Narasimha could be part of it,” he glanced at Vee but she didn’t argue, “but we need more information on the specifics of the ritual.”
The professor hesitated and Vee wondered if he’d try and hide important information from them. Then Nivaan cut in, “Like what specific rituals are performed. I have a few books in storage but I need the information fast. Otherwise, I’d have to dig the books out and pore over them.”
Menon’s eyebrows lifted, as if slightly offended that Nivaan had implied that he’d prefer someone else do the hard work.