Deathtrap (Crossbreed Series Book 3)

by Dannika Dark

  I lowered my eyes, thinking about my plans to see my father. It wasn’t as if a few highlights would alter my appearance entirely, but I wanted to look the way he remembered me.

  “Claude, I know you can do amazing things with your hands, but I’m not ready for amazing just yet. Snip off the split ends and let’s call it a day.”

  He shook his head, but his nostrils were twitching. Claude was trying to figure out my emotional scent, and probably the only thing he could pick up was my resolve. “Female, I wouldn’t do anything but enhance the beauty that’s already there.”

  “You gave me some layers last month. That’s progress.”

  Claude folded his arms. “I fixed a catastrophe involving duct tape.”

  “Don’t give me that look,” I said, lacing my fingers together. “I’m not going to be guilted into something I’ll regret. I’ve already got too many oddities going on; maybe I need something plain in my life.”

  Claude growled and reluctantly grabbed the comb off the counter. I should have felt guilty for wasting his time, but I kind of liked seeing him all flustered.

  When I looked to my right, the customer beside me was gone.

  Claude combed out my hair and sectioned off a piece. “You’re going to have to do a lot of things you don’t necessarily like, but that’s our job.”

  I glanced around.

  He bent down next to my ear. “No one can hear us. I usually don’t allow Vampires in my shop.”

  “Maybe you should. Christian could use a trim.”

  “What Christian needs is a lawn mower from the neck up.”

  “I wish Viktor had chosen someone else. How am I supposed to carry on a conversation with Shepherd? The man barely grunts at me when passing in the hall.”

  “He grows on you.” Claude snipped another section and resumed combing. “If you run out of things to talk about during dinner, rich people like to discuss travel and politics. Given you’ll probably say something offensive on the latter, you might stick to asking him about Paris.”

  “What makes you think he’s been there?”

  Claude pushed my head down. “They’ve all been to Paris. Some of those European countries have a long Breed history. Most of them have old friends they like to visit.”

  I peeked through my hair at his reflection in the mirror. “What exactly does Patrick do?”

  “He serves on the panel. The higher authority has officials in every major city, and they take turns rotating who’s going to sit in on trials. They know more about what’s going on in their district than anyone.”

  I yawned noisily. “And I have to chat with this guy for how long?”

  “If Shepherd has more than four drinks, it’s time to go home. Maybe if you bring up something innocuous like lager or stogies, it’ll give them a topic to discuss. Shepherd isn’t the most talkative male, but careful not to pick the wrong topic or he’ll get on his soapbox.”

  “Lovely.”

  After a few more snips, Claude circled in front of me where I could see him. The other employees wore black button-up shirts, but not Claude. He had on a black tank top with the store logo RAZOR SHARP on the front, a pair of scissors snipping off the bottom of the P. His tank top showed off his amazing shoulders—the kind a man is born with and doesn’t need to sculpt. Claude could ascend our rock-climbing wall faster than anyone in the group… and using only his hands.

  “How are you getting along with Poe? Feeling better about Viktor’s decision to pair you up?”

  I shrugged. “He’s okay.”

  Claude arched a single brow, and that’s when I remembered he could smell my emotions. Lies, truths, doubt, fear—the only way to avoid Claude sniffing out the truth was to avoid answering questions.

  “I noticed earlier you’re still wearing that heart-shaped necklace. Didn’t he give you that?”

  I could almost feel the stone burning against my skin. “Don’t read into it or else I’m going to have to spread rumors about all the snuggling you do with Gem.”

  “Gem likes my cuddles.” He smirked while snipping the ends of my hair at an angle. “It’s good to see you loosening up.”

  I furrowed my brow and shook my hair away. “What do you mean?”

  Claude crossed around to the other side and trimmed a few ends. “When you first came into the house, your guard was up. It’s like that for everyone. I have to admit, when I first heard about the Shadow killing people in Breed bars, I never imagined the ruthless killer to look like you.”

  I leaned my head back and grinned. “A lot of sleepless nights?”

  “A few. Viktor’s decision to offer you a spot took me by surprise. I couldn’t figure out why Gem liked you so much, but now I get it.”

  “Enlighten me. I still haven’t figured that one out.”

  He combed out my tresses and held a long section straight up, a ribbon of hair falling loose as the scissors sliced together. “Blue’s disciplined, hardworking, and serious. She also likes to be one of the guys. Gem is drawn to people with a sense of humor, which you have. Albeit black humor. You’re not the first person I’d choose to deliver my eulogy, but you’re easy to talk to.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m not suggesting that Blue isn’t,” he quickly added, “but Gem gravitates toward people who are like her in some ways.”

  That made me think of my odd little bond with Christian. I was already forming different connections with everyone in the house. I hadn’t grown up in a big family, and even though this was work, it was probably the closest thing to family I’d ever know again.

  “There. Done.”

  I blinked at myself in the mirror. “Already?”

  He flung the scissors into an open drawer and mussed up my hair. “Regretting your decision? Because I could shave a little spot in the back—”

  I slapped his hand. “Get away from me, Claude Scissorhands.”

  He removed the gown tied around my neck and shook it out. “I’m closing up here soon—after I finish with Gem.” Claude lowered my chair using the foot pedal.

  A woman handed him something, and the next thing I knew, he was wrapping a hot towel around my face, leaving just enough space in the center for me to breathe.

  “Just relax and close your eyes,” he said, massaging my neck.

  “That’s what I say to all my victims.”

  Something jarred me out of my nap, and it took me a second to remember that I’d nodded off in Claude’s salon, and I wasn’t actually blind, but there was a towel on my face.

  My hair stood on end when another pulse of energy crackled against my skin. It was stronger than a Mage flaring, like a spike in power you feel during a fight. I shot up in my seat and flung the towel to the floor. The salon was empty except for the sound of Gem and Claude talking loudly over the blow-dryer in the back. The floors were swept up, the drawers closed, and the employees gone.

  The hair dryer switched off. Gem appeared, her wavy hair blown in every direction as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. The pale-lavender color was more vibrant and had an ombré effect that faded to silver.

  “Did you feel that?” she asked, brushing her hands up her arms.

  Claude’s nostrils flared as he stalked toward the front door. Gem and I followed behind him. Though it wasn’t completely dark outside, the lights in the parking lot had switched on. I rubbed my itchy neck and tried to dust away some of the tiny hairs.

  The second Claude unlocked the door and cracked it open, he turned his head, and I watched his golden eyes morph to black.

  “Claude, what’s wrong?”

  “He can’t hear you anymore,” Gem whispered. “He’s flipped his switch.”

  The door swung open, and Claude flew out, a whirlwind of snowflakes melting as soon as they hit the floor. I didn’t bother grabbing my coat. Gem and I flashed to the left to catch up with him, but I skidded out of control when I turned the corner around the side of the building.

  We both stopped at the same time,
staring in disbelief at Claude crouched on the hood of a car parked between his salon and another building. A thin layer of snow glistened on the concrete, but most of the parking lot was a slushy mess. The businesses were closed, so it seemed peculiar to see a car backed up against his building. A thick layer of snow covered the trunk and hood, leaving me to believe it had been out here for at least a day.

  Whatever internal switch that kept him human had shut off, and what remained was a Chitah in his primal state. Still a man, but ripples of spotted patterns flashed across his arms and neck, deadly upper and lower fangs gleaming in the dim light and animalistic instincts driving his every decision.

  I sharpened my light and slowly approached the car. He punched through the windshield with his fist, glass shattering in a spiral around the point of impact.

  “What’s he doing?” Gem asked.

  Claude ripped away large chunks of the windshield. While he crawled through the opening, we hurried to the passenger side.

  Gem wiped the snow off the glass so we could see inside. When Claude reached into the backseat, I noticed something.

  “Claude, open the door!” I pounded on the window and jiggled the handle. “Open up!”

  Gem hurried to the front of the car and circled to the driver’s side. “They’re all locked! Claude, you need to snap out of it. Open the door so we can help!”

  She brushed away some of the glass from the hood, but I was already leaping onto the car. Without a second to lose, I crawled into the passenger seat, not even caring if he turned on me. I unlocked the door, but before I could open it for Gem, I glimpsed a woman in the backseat, fresh blood covering her hands and neck.

  Claude turned to look at me, and his eyes were no longer onyx. Tears welled in them—angry tears. His lips peeled back, revealing sharp canines. “She’s gone.”

  “What happened?”

  Gem got the door halfway open and then jumped back when she saw the body. “I’ll call for help.”

  “Don’t bother,” Claude said in disgust. “Just call the cleaners.”

  Still breathing hard, he turned around and sat in the driver’s seat, his cheeks flushed. He didn’t seem to notice or care that his hands were bleeding.

  I got a better look at the woman. The spike in energy that I’d felt in the salon had to be related. Someone had just murdered this woman; the blood was still trickling down her neck where someone had cut her throat.

  I faced forward, the frigid wind blowing through the open windshield. “Why were the doors locked?”

  “The killer didn’t want anyone to find her for a while. She’s buried beneath clothes.”

  “The tall snow on the hood makes me think the car’s been here for at least a day or two. Do you think she lived in here?”

  “I park out front and never have a reason to come this way. Had I known a female was living in her car, I would have done something about it. Helped her.”

  I studied the victim, trying not to make the same mistake as I had last time by getting emotionally involved. It was hard to guess her age, but if I had to, I’d say approximately upper thirties. Frizzy black hair framed her face, and by the looks of things, she lived in her car. The space above the backseat was jam-packed full of items most people don’t keep in a car. Clothes, blankets, diapers…

  “She had a baby.”

  Claude snapped his head around. “Why do you say that?”

  I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “Diapers and bottles. The packages are open, so she wasn’t pregnant and hoarding supplies. I think she’s homeless. I’ve seen a lot of people living out of their cars. Sometimes they steal gas and move the vehicle into the Breed district, though I never paid attention if they were human or not. Nobody cares if a car sits unattended in a parking lot.”

  Claude shut his eyes and reclined his head. “Now I know what this is about.”

  “Domestic violence? Maybe she was a prostitute and her pimp didn’t want her to keep the kid.”

  He shook his head. “Black market.”

  Gem stood in front of the car while talking on her phone.

  “Usually when they steal the child, it’s violent. The mother rarely survives.”

  I shivered. Babies were prized on the black market—that much I knew. “Why don’t they just get a kid from the orphanage? Why go through all this?”

  He rubbed his jaw. “Most orphans are discarded because something’s wrong with them. They’re defective in some way. I’ve heard stories about men killing their wives who produced an inferior child. Anyhow, orphans are tracked, and there’s a screening process to adopt. The filthy ghouls who buy children aren’t the type of men who would put their name on paper for adoption rights.”

  “Your hands are bleeding.”

  He turned them over and proceeded to lick his wounds. I watched, mildly fascinated as every stroke of his tongue healed the superficial cuts. When he finished, he wiped his hands on his pants to get rid of the bloodstains. “Come on. I can’t sit in this car any longer.”

  I stepped outside, cupping my elbows and joining him at the front of the vehicle.

  “They’ll be here in ten minutes,” Gem announced. Her lip quivered, and I remembered her story about being a child of the black market herself. Seeing this must have struck a nerve.

  “Why don’t you go back inside and call Viktor,” I suggested. “We’ll take care of everything out here.”

  Claude touched her shoulder and steered her away. “Go inside and get warm, female. Keep the door locked.”

  Once Gem disappeared around the corner, I leaned against the hood beside Claude.

  “Sometimes they cut them out,” Claude said on a breath.

  I looked up at him in horror. “What?”

  “If the woman is a vagabond and doesn’t have anyone to protect her, she becomes an easy target. Black marketeers will stalk a woman they think is single and living alone. When she nears full term, they cut the baby out.”

  “That’s sick. Wouldn’t the baby die?”

  “We’re Breed. Our children are stronger than humans. They steal the baby from the womb so that no one can identify the child, not having seen nor touched it. No Chitah will have imprinted their smell, no Sensor will know their touch, and no doctor or father will recognize a birthmark or face.”

  I slid my jaw to the side. “Maybe I was hunting down the wrong people all these years. Had I known that kind of thing was going on, I would have targeted those assholes instead. What could they want with a Chitah baby? Or a Shifter? Do they only sell them to couples? Do these parents realize that they’re indirectly responsible for a mother’s death?”

  Claude put his arm around me—not to offer me comfort, but because it was too cold to do anything else but huddle. “The children are collected and sold regardless of who wants them, and most people bidding are not loving couples. Lucky is the child who is sold to real parents. Chitahs are excellent trackers; train them right and they’ll grow up to become obedient killers. There’s a dark side to our world, Raven. Even darker than you can imagine. Immortality breeds the most evil men imaginable.”

  The sky took on a deep sapphire hue as the day came to an end. The orange glow from a streetlamp illuminated the snowflakes, which were falling at an angle.

  “A Mage did it,” I said.

  “How do you know?”

  “Well, she’s obviously not a Mage since they can’t have babies. And back in the salon, I felt a strong flare of energy—the kind that happens during a fight when there’s a lot of adrenaline going. Some guys don’t know how to level down when they get excited. Gem felt it too.”

  He rubbed his nose. “The smell of fear burns,” he said absently. “It seems to permeate through walls. The female doesn’t have the characteristics of a Chitah,” Claude offered. “I’ll ask the cleaners to give us her identity after they search the vehicle. Wyatt can run a check on her name to see what turns up.”

  “Did you pick up another scent?”

  He nodded. “Did
n’t matter. She was my priority.”

  I turned around and looked at the car. “You know what’s bugging me? The doors were locked and the windows unbroken.”

  Claude frowned.

  “No sign of a struggle,” I pointed out. “Why does a woman, who’s living in her vehicle with her baby, open the door for someone? She wouldn’t have been sitting in her car with the doors unlocked.”

  Claude pushed off the car and strode around to the driver’s side, his eyes downcast and scanning the ground. “She knew him.”

  “He got away fast. Maybe his energy spiked when he was driving off.”

  “This is the Breed district,” Claude reminded me. “People who commit murders don’t tarry.”

  I kicked the tire. Had I not snoozed in the chair with a towel on my face, would I have gotten bored and walked around outside? Would I have been close enough to help her in time? It must have happened fast.

  Claude briefly stuck his nose inside the car, and when he reappeared, his mouth was open, his eyes hooded. “Stay here.”

  “Wait, where the hell are you going?”

  “Hunting.”

  In a flash, he took off, leaving me alone with a dead body and no jacket.

  Chapter 4

  Later that evening, after the cleaners had shown up and taken our statements, I headed out on foot. Claude had returned after searching the streets in vain for the killer, his shoes and pants soaking wet. Apparently it was much harder to run at Chitah speed in snow and ice to catch up with a moving vehicle. Everyone at Keystone was probably sitting around, waiting for me to show up and cook dinner, so I used my phone to order them a pizza. After seeing a dead woman, I didn’t feel like going home, and I sure as hell didn’t feel like cooking a meal for nine people.

  After a long walk, I wound up in a club called Nine Circles of Hell, also known as Club Nine. They had nine specialty drinks, each representing a circle of hell. Skilled Sensors, who were also mixologists, spiked the drinks with just enough emotional flavor to make the drink worth every penny. Treachery was green, wrath red, limbo yellow, lust violet, gluttony orange, greed pink, heresy blue, violence turquoise, and fraud chartreuse.