Deadly Desire

Chapter Three

I had no doubt it was Jack's friend who lay dead on the floor beneath the open safe. He seemed about the same age, and had a regal sort of look that befitted his name. His face was angular, filled with lines that spoke of a life enjoyed, his skin lightly tanned despite the fact that he wouldn't have been able to take much sun.

In life, he would have been imposing. In death, he looked small and sad.

Especially with his head and legs separated from his body.

The blood I'd smelled had pooled mostly near his legs, but there wasn't a whole lot of it. Not a body's worth, anyway. Someone had cut them off and bled him out before he'd killed him. This in itself wouldn't have completed the job of killing him, simply because a vampire could survive wounds that would kill most nonhumans. Even breaking a vampire's neck wouldn't actually kill him, though it would incapacitate him, and this in itself could be deadly. But completely severing the head was a different matter altogether-no vampire could recover from that. Not even one as old as Armel.

I glanced around the room. Beyond the open safe, which only had a few scattered papers in it, the room seemed undisturbed. The windows were locked, and the sunlight streaming in through the glass highlighted the darkening pools of blood and little else. There was hardly anything in the way of mess and yet something felt very wrong here. Not just the death, and not just the fact that there didn't seem to be any reason for it, but something in the air itself. An energy that felt powerful, and yet very wicked.

I shivered and rubbed my arms. Armel might have called Jack about spirits, but I doubted a ghostly apparition had been responsible for this. Besides, how would a ghost cut off someone's legs or head?

This mightn't have started off as a proper Directorate case, but it sure was now.

I stepped around his body and walked over to the safe. Beyond the few scattered papers, there was nothing inside. I doubted Armel would have had a safe installed if he didn't actually put things of value in it, so it was a fair bet that this had probably been a murder-slash-robbery. The safe didn't appear to be tampered with in any way, so either Armel had opened it for the thieves, or he'd caught them in the midst of the job.

But if that was the case, why was there no sign of fighting? No vampire went to his death willingly, and I couldn't imagine Armel simply lying still while someone hacked off his legs and head.

So what the hell had happened?

Frowning slightly, I stepped away from the safe and walked across to one of the large windows. I had to squint against the brightness of the sunlight streaming in through the glass, but it did little to warm the chill from my flesh. Shivering, I dug my phone out of my pocket and called the Directorate.

Sal answered. "What's up, wolf girl?"

"I need a cleanup team sent to my current location."

She didn't say anything for a moment, and when she did, there was a slight catch in her voice. "Armel's dead?"

"Yeah." I hesitated. "You knew him?"

"He was one of my lovers."

That surprised me. Not the fact that she had more than one lover-vampires couldn't survive on each other's blood, so while they often had vampire lovers, they also kept a harem of other races. And while some of them, like Quinn, preferred to keep their harems to a minimum, many did not. What did surprise me was the fact that Armel was one of Sal's men. Given that she had the hots for Jack something bad, I would have thought that fucking his best friend was a bad idea. Friends didn't take from friends-and Jack, from what I could gather, was more of a traditionalist like Quinn than the free-for-all man Armel had apparently been.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of sad news, Sal."

"I figured it was bad when Jack rushed out of here." She hesitated. "Was it at least quick?"

I looked across at the decapitated body, at the blood pooled near the remains of his legs. "I don't think so."

She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Get the bastards for me, wolf girl. Make them pay."

"I think I'll have to beat Jack to that task."

Her laugh had an edge that spoke of barely controlled pain. "Yeah, you probably will. I've reassigned Cole and his team. The boss will want the best on this one."

"Thanks, Sal."

She hung up. I shoved the phone back into my pocket, then grabbed the nearest curtain and pulled it closed. The sunlight retreated from Armel's body, keeping him whole for Cole and his team when they got here.

I walked back out into the hall then stopped. The air out here was no fresher, the scent of blood seeming to drift everywhere, but that wasn't what I was looking for. I sorted through the differing scents, recognizing and discarding a dozen or so before I found the odd one I'd sensed in the study. The scent of wrongness. Of wickedness.

It was strange that such a thing could have an actual scent, but then, fear and anger did, and they were often stronger than life-affirming emotions like lust and happiness.

I followed my nose and ended up in one of the bedrooms. It had to be Armel's-the color scheme and furniture were very masculine, although the four-poster bed and accompanying draperies were not.

The scent stopped midway into the room. The owner of that scent had stood here, possibly staring at the bed but going no further. My gaze shifted to the nightstand. An expensive gold watch sat there, as did a wallet. If robbery was the reason for this murder, why not take those as well?

Frowning, I continued on to the disheveled bed. The dents in the pillows suggested that Armel had not been alone. I couldn't smell the other person's scent, but maybe its sheer evilness was overwhelming everything else. Because I certainly couldn't smell Armel in here, either, and I should have.

I picked up his wallet, blew off some dust-which was also odd-and had a quick look. Beyond the thick wad of cash, there were credit and ATM cards, as well as a collection of cards-both business and personal.

And the thief, who'd come in here and stared at the bed, had left all this sitting here.

This was definitely a weird one.

I turned around and walked back downstairs, checking the other rooms as I went and finding nothing out of place and no indication that someone else had been in the house. Except for that out-of-place scent and the dent in the pillows, Armel seemed to have been alone.

I walked to the front door to wait for Jack. He arrived in a dark van a few minutes later. The driver crashed through the carefully constructed garden beds as he maneuvered the van as close to the front entrance as possible. The van's side door opened, and I had a brief glimpse of Jack before he blurred and raced toward the door.

I stepped back out of his way, then slammed the door closed once he'd entered, stopping the sunshine from streaking into the hallway.

"Where's the body?" he said, face and bald head pink with sunburn despite his efforts.

"Upstairs." I hesitated. "Boss, it's not pretty-"

"I didn't expect it to be." He glanced up the stairs, his expression hard and grim. "Has a cleanup team been called?"

"Cole is on his way."

He grunted. "You need to get back to the Directorate and write up a report for last night. And check break-ins for this area, to see if we've got a pattern occurring."

Normally I would have argued, not only because I hated leaving crime scenes before I got a first impression from the cleanup team, but because I didn't like being stuck in the office doing paperwork. But the pain so obvious in Jack's green eyes suggested he wanted time alone to grieve for his friend.

I turned to leave, then hesitated. "Boss, there's an odd smell in both the bedroom and the study upstairs. You might want to call in the magi to investigate it."

He nodded and I left without another word.

The roads were still clogged with traffic, so it took longer than it should have to get back to the Directorate. I bought four coffees from Beans, the little coffee shop that had opened next to the Directorate building, then headed down to the level that held the guardian division's main office area and the cell we called a squad room. Sal was sitting at her desk in the main room, so I walked in and offered her a coffee. She took it with some trepidation, taking a sniff then saying, "Hazelnut?"

"Cures all hurts, if only temporarily," I said, and headed out.

I'd almost reached the door when she said, "Thanks, Riley."

I gave her a half-wave and continued on to the squad room. Both Kade and Iktar were there, the horse man squinting at the computer and the spirit lizard sitting in the corner, the outline of his body fading into the shadows. It was somewhat disconcerting to see, but given that Iktar preferred to study his case files that way, we'd almost become used to it.

Almost.

I handed them both a coffee, then plonked my butt down on the corner of Kade's desk. Of course, this bought me into close proximity to the heated scent of him. Kade might be out of bounds-thanks to both Jack's rules and my own desire to remain as true as possible to Quinn-but that didn't stop desire from stirring, especially when the moon was heating my blood.

"I think you'd better get your eyes checked. Your squinting is getting worse."

"It's not my eyes, it's lack of sleep," he said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing a hand across eyes that were bloodshot and baggy. "It's the fucking babies. They won't sleep."

I grinned. "Well, you're the one who wouldn't keep his little swimmers to himself. I have no sympathy for you."

He snorted softly. "You're such a bitch."

"And you should be helping your mares out. It takes two to create babies, and two to look after them."

"The whole point of having a large herd," he said, voice holding a hint of irritation, but the gleam in his warm chocolate eyes countering it, "is the fact that there are plenty of mares to share night duty. The breadwinner has no need to get involved."

I snorted derisively. "Sable makes more money in a week than you do in a year."

"That is beside the point." He took a sip of coffee and sighed in pleasure. "Damn, this is good."

"The Directorate's probably saved a fortune since the shop upstairs opened." Certainly we hadn't used the coffee machine much since they had. I took a sip myself, then added, "What's happening?"

"Cole's sent a prelim report in for the zombie killing last night. General impressions and identifications, nothing more."

It was surprising he'd managed to get that far. Between riding to my rescue and then being called over to Armel's, he'd been kept pretty damn busy.

"Any initial similarities to the first murder?"

"Other than the fact they're teenage girls who had their throats slashed and blood drained, no." He reached forward and turned the monitor around enough for me to see. A pretty young blonde dominated the screen. I quickly scanned the report underneath as he added, "Last night's victim was a street kid with convictions for theft and drugs."

The first murder had been Amy Prince, a seventeen-year-old kid who'd recently left high school. There'd been nothing criminal about her. "There's no apparent connection between the two sets of murders?"

"Nothing obvious that we can see. They don't even look alike. The victims appear to be selected randomly."

"But random just doesn't feel right."

Kade raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because these murders are being committed by zombies, and zombies do not rise on their own," Iktar said. "Nor do they practice revenge. Only the living do so."

I looked at him. He was still reading, looking engrossed, but obviously not. "What makes you think these are revenge killings?"

He met my gaze, his all-blue eyes striking against the darkness of his featureless face. "Zombies have no thoughts or feeling of their own. They are mere receptacles for the desires and hatreds of others."

"So?" Kade said.

"So, if mere murder were the motive behind these killings, then why raise the dead? There are a thousand different ways a person with the sort of power needed to raise the dead could cause death, but she chooses decaying flesh to be her instrument. To me, this suggests not only that she wants our attention, but that she has a powerful motivation. Revenge is one such emotion."

"So is hatred, or bloodlust," I murmured, and yet I couldn't disagree with him. These killings were linked somehow, I could feel it, and revenge was certainly one possible connection. Revenge for what was the question. "Why would anyone actually want to attract our attention? That's just suicidal."

Iktar shrugged. "We won't know that until we find the person controlling the zombies."

I glanced at Kade. "Maybe we're tackling this from the wrong angle. Maybe we need to discover if there's any connection between the zombie and the dead people."

"It's still hard to imagine a connection between a street kid in Fitzroy and a former Broady high school student."

"Street kids weren't born that way. Maybe they all went to the same school or something." And it wouldn't be the first time we'd dealt with the bloody need to avenge injustices done at school. Hell, Liander-the love of my brother's life-still bore the scars after one such episode.

"Has anyone talked to the kids who shared the squat with last night's victim?"

Kade shook his head. "They scattered when I tried earlier this morning. I think I looked too much like a cop for their liking."

He looked about as much like a cop as I did. It was probably more the fact that he was a big, imposing male who looked ready to handle any sort of trouble that had them running.

"Then maybe that's what I need to do next." Jack might have told me to write up a report, but solving this case was infinitely more important. Besides, talking to the street kids got me out of the office and away from Kade's delicious aroma. I might be strong willed, but I wasn't a fool. Even the saintliest werewolf could succumb to temptation during the moon heat, and I certainly had never been a saint. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Look out, Kade. We're about to be asked to do something she was asked to do."

I glanced across to Iktar. "Hey, I bought you coffee. Be nice."

White teeth flashed-an odd sight in his all-black face. "I was. I didn't tell him to say no, although that is what he should do."

"Why don't you just go back to your reading?"

He chortled softly. "If Kade didn't want to get back into your bed, he would say no."

"Kade knows there's no chance of that."

He met my glance with a raised cup. "Doesn't stop me from hoping otherwise, of course. What's the favor?"

"Could you run a check for break-ins in the Toorak area? One of Jack's friends was murdered this morning during a robbery, and he wants to see if there have been any similar occurrences."

"That explains the explosion of anger I felt just before he stormed out of the squad room."

Kade, like Quinn, was an empath, but he was also kinetic, which had definitely come in handy when fighting many a bad guy.

"And it means he'll be in a foul mood for days to come." I hesitated, then grinned. "Another reason for me to be in the office as little as possible. You know how easily I can annoy him."

He snorted softly. "Go. I'm stuck here anyway. The lizard and I have to cross-check the details of everyone in that emo nest you found to make sure there's no illegals or underage turnings."

The emos were a large group of vampires I'd discovered while investigating a previous case. Rather than living on blood, emos fed off emotion. Which, according to Jack, made them even more dangerous than blood suckers, simply because they could amplify emotions like hate and rage, and feed off the resulting chaos.

Not that this nest of emos had done anything like that as yet, but it paid to be cautious. Especially when we hadn't even known they'd existed until I'd stumbled upon them.

"The lizard has a name," Iktar said mildly. "Kindly use it."

Kade grinned. He loved teasing Iktar, and I had a fair idea Iktar enjoyed prodding back-although it was hard to tell because very little expression showed on his face. "I'll stop calling you lizard when you stop calling when me horse boy."

"Can it for five minutes, will you?" I shook my head and took another sip of coffee. "What happens if you find illegals or underage emos?"

"From what Jack said, the vamp responsible will be given a warning and fined, and then the vampire council will get called in to keep an eye on her."

I raised my eyebrows. "I thought the vampire council preferred the Directorate to deal with such matters." Hell, we cleaned up the rogues, and that had once been the council's job.

Although if Quinn was to be believed, the council was still very much involved in such duties, only its cleanups involved vampires far worse than anything we ever saw. Which was a scary thought considering some of the psychos we dealt with on a regular basis.

"We don't police the vamp community, remember," Kade said. "We just hunt the ones who kill humans."

"And nonhumans."

He nodded. "But from what I've seen, it's rare for us to go after vamps who kill vamps."

I frowned. "I'm sure we have." And yet, I couldn't remember a clear example, and wondered if this was because such cases were automatically shunted to the council.

I took another sip of coffee, then added, "Anyway, I'm glad it's you doing the paperwork, and not me." Being stuck in a small room with the luscious smelling Kade during the moon heat was always a test for my resolve, but after my close call with Kye, I just didn't want to push it. Feeding some hungers just made them grow. I slid off the desk. "Let me know when Cole's full report comes in."

"Will do."

I headed out. According to the report, last night's victim had been sharing a squat in an old section of Fitzroy. The building had once been an old machine shop and, like the other factories around it, had been bought out in preparation for a new housing development. But the plans had been caught up in red tape, and the buildings had lain empty for years. Street folk were never shy about claiming such buildings as their own, though, and it wasn't unusual for a whole mini-city to be surviving within the grimy, run-down shells.

I locked the car and studied the building, analyzing the scents that surrounded the place and letting them run across my senses. More than one unwashed body lived in this building, and there was also more than one nonhuman. It was an odd fact that while a lot of humanity still seemed to have problems coping with the vampires living in their midst, streets kids and the homeless all seemed to live side by side with vampires without problems. I guess it helped that most vamps didn't eat at home, and did more than their fair share when it came to protecting the squat and the people who lived with them. The kids and tramps returned the favor, looking after the vamps during their daylight sleeping hours.

I pocketed my keys and headed in. The strongest scent of unwashed humanity came from a corner on the upper floor, though there were one or two overly strong aromas coming from different sections of the ground floor. Both suggested wino, and given they weren't my targets, I kept walking.

The metal stairs creaked as I climbed, giving ample warning of my arrival to anyone who was paying enough attention. And they were. Footsteps scattered, boxes scraped across the floor, and doors slammed. I couldn't help smiling. Even regular human cops couldn't have missed those noises, and it suggested the street folk on this level were very young indeed. Those who'd been on the streets for a while tended to meet their fate with a resigned acceptance and smart mouth.

Sunlight streamed in through the grimy windows on the upper floor, highlighting the motes of dust dancing on the air. This section of the building had obviously once been offices, but most of those were little more than broken shells, leaving a wasteland of debris and half-walls. My quarry waited in a far corner, in an office that had two whole walls and two half-walls. With all the smashed windows, it was probably the only part of this floor that provided any real protection from the chill of the wind.

Three boys were waiting for me, though I guess it wasn't fair to call them boys. They might have only looked fifteen or sixteen, but one look into their eyes suggested a life that had been harsher than most.

One boy-a gangly, pockmarked kid with matted brown hair and the most startling blue eyes-took several steps forward and said belligerently, "What do you want? This is our place, and we don't like strangers here."

I stopped and grabbed my ID from my pocket. "Riley Jenson, from the Directorate," I said. "We're investigating the death of Kaz Michaels, and I just need to ask you some questions."

He looked at the ID, then at me. "You're a guardian?"

"Yep."

"But you ain't no vampire."

I raised my eyebrow. "What makes you so sure?"

"You don't smell like no vampire."

I had to grin at that. It was nice to know that I wasn't the only one in the world who thought most vampires stank. "And you don't smell like a regular street kid."

"The water is still connected to this dump, so there's no reason not to use it." He looked me up and down, then said, "What are you, then?"

"Werewolf. You the boss here?"

He shrugged. "Depends on what you want."

"I need to know everything possible about Kaz."

"Why?"

"Because the person who murdered her has already murdered someone else, and I need to stop him before he does it again."

"By stop him, you mean kill him." It was a statement, not a question.

I nodded. "That's what we guardians do, I'm afraid."

He cocked his head a little on the side, then said, "You don't look that dangerous."

I grinned again, liking the kid's attitude. "You should see me if I don't get coffee every hour, on the hour."

He snorted softly, and amusement danced in his bright eyes. I had a feeling that despite his young years and somewhat puny looks, he was a force to be reckoned with. At least when it came to protecting "his" kids.

And I was betting now that the ones who were hidden hadn't so much run for protection, but were instead a surprise force ready to attack if and when it was needed.

"Can you help me?"

He shrugged. "I don't know a lot. Kaz kept pretty much to herself. She only came here for protection at night, like."

"So she had no real friends?"

"No." He hesitated. "Joe might know more. He hung around with Kaz a bit."

"Then where can I find Joe?"

"Around. He works the streets during the day. Safer than at night, even if it doesn't pay as well."

I wasn't sure whether he meant working in the prostitution or stealing sense, and wasn't about to ask. "You think you can get him to talk to me?"

"That depends."

I didn't ask on what. We both knew what he wanted out of the deal. "There's two hundred in it," I said. "That's twenty bucks cash for everyone here." And enough money to buy meals for the next couple of days if they were canny.

"Three," he said.

I hesitated. Jack wouldn't approve an expense report, so this money was coming out of my own pocket. In the scheme of things it wasn't much, but I had a brother who liked to overspend and it was often me who picked up the slack to ensure we had food in the cupboard and coffee on the table. "Two-fifty."

"You guardians are well paid. You can afford more than that."

"Did I mention I have a serious coffee habit?"

He grinned. "Two seventy-five."

"You drive a hard bargain."

"Totally." He held out his hand. "We got a deal?"

"Deal." I clasped and shook it. The kid had a good grip for a scrawny human. "If you can you get Joe here this afternoon."

He grinned. "I'll get him here by five."

Meaning Joe probably wasn't working the streets, but hiding out nearby. This kid was a shark. "You got a name?"

He hesitated. "Mike."

I lightly linked to his mind, quickly skimming the surface. I saw no lie in his thoughts, about either his name or anything else he'd said.

"Well, Mike, I'll be back at five, then."

I nodded to the two kids behind him, then walked out. Once in the car, I checked the computer for any messages then leaned back in the seat, wondering what to do. Cole wouldn't have finished his report on Armel's murder yet, and I didn't want to go back to the office. Quinn had business meetings all day, so he was off the list as well. Even my friend Dia wasn't around. She'd gone up to Queensland for a month-long vacation.

I blew out a breath and started up the car. With nowhere else to go, I headed home to grab some lunch.

Liander was sitting in the living room when I arrived, newspaper in hand and his feet crossed on the table. The sun streaming in through the windows made his silver hair gleam like ice, and his normally pale skin took on an almost golden glow.

He finally looked healthy. For a while there, he'd been looking frailer than a ghost, and moving like an old man. Though I guess almost getting gutted would do that to you.

"Some people have a good life," I said, throwing my bag on the table before heading into the kitchen to turn on the kettle and investigate the fridge.

"Some people hate the confinement the doctors are forcing on them," he said dryly. "There's leftover lasagna in the fridge if you want to zap that for lunch."

"Sounds like a plan," I said, pulling out the tray. "How much longer do you have to rest?"

"Until the soreness goes away."

I shoved two slices of lasagna into the microwave, then leaned against the door frame and frowned at him. "I thought it had."

He suddenly looked sheepish and made a show of looking at the paper again. "Well, it did, but then Rhoan and I got a little overadventurous, and I think it strained things."

I snorted softly. "No sympathy from me, then. You want a coffee?"

"As long as you're not going to tell me to get it myself."

"I'm not that mean." I made two coffees and carted them across to the coffee table, then went back to grab the lasagna. I handed Liander his, then plonked down on the other sofa.

"So how's the love life?" he said, after several mouthfuls.

I grinned. "A hell of a lot safer than yours, from the sound of it."

"No problems on the Quinn front?"

"He's being quite the gentlemen."

Liander snorted. "That'll change once you start acting like a proper wolf again."

I gave him an exasperated look. "I am acting like a proper wolf."

"Have you gone back to the clubs? Taken other partners yet?"

"You know I haven't. I'm happy as I am, Liander, and Quinn and I do share something special."

"He's not a wolf, my girl. And your wolf soul will always hunger for its mate, no matter how happy you might be with Quinn."

"You're not telling me something I don't know. I'm just not ready to venture fully out of the cave yet."

"You know, if I ever meet Kellen again, he's going to get a very large piece of my mind."

"Don't you dare. He was doing what was right for us both."

He snorted softly. I ignored him and continued to eat the lasagna. One of the many good things about Liander coming to live with us was the fact that the quality of the meals we were getting had improved-mainly because he could cook and Rhoan and I couldn't.

I took a sip of coffee to wash it down, then said, "I had something of a close call yesterday, actually."

"Oh?" He raised a gray eyebrow, amusement teasing the corners of his silvery eyes. "Do tell."

"You remember Kye? The bodyguard Patrin employed?"

"The one Rhoan reckons was more than just a wolf?"

"Yeah. Turns out he's a bounty hunter, and he sort of saved my butt."

"Well, it is a cute butt."

I grinned. "Maybe so, but I doubt that's the reason he saved it."

"So, you got hot and heavy with him as a thank-you?"

"Not intentionally." Liander's eyebrows rose again, so I added, "I blame the moon heat and the fact that he smelled so good." He kissed damn good, too, but that was beside the point.

"So why didn't it go any further?"

"It's hard to concentrate on loving when there are a couple of hellhounds wanting to tear you to pieces."

"I guess." He took a mouthful of food, then added, "You intending to see him again?"

"No. I don't really like him, and I certainly don't trust him."

"Hey, I didn't like Rhoan when I first met him, either."

"I thought you got hot and heavy on the first date."

"Nope. I thought he had a great body, but a shitty attitude. I still thought that when we had sex a few days later. Of course, attitude or not, he was the one. And he has mellowed, thankfully."

"He's never going to be the perfect man." Even I knew that, and I loved my brother to death.

He waved a hand in agreement. "All I'm saying is you should never write anyone off just because you don't instantly fall in love. Or lust."

I snorted. "Trust me, I don't expect to-although lust is always handy." Especially if you had to spend the rest of your life with him. I took another mouthful, then added, "Besides, if I meet Kye again, I'm going to have to arrest him, because it means he's still investigating a case I've warned him off."

"Well, that probably would put a dampener on things," he said, his voice wry.

"Totally."

I finished the last of the lasagna and picked up my coffee with a sigh. "I'm so glad you came to live with us."

He grinned. "I think you two are getting the better end of the deal. Do you know how badly you both cook?"

"Absolutely. That's why you and Rhoan are never going to be able to set up house alone. I'd starve on my own." I rose as my cell phone rang, and walked across to grab it out of my purse. "Hello?"

"Riley? Jack," he said, unnecessarily. "We've got another vampire dead. One Garrison Bovel."

I swore softly. "Not someone else you know, I hope?"

"Not personally, no, though I've seen him around the various bars a few times." He sounded bone-tired. "He was the head of an accounting firm that handled the taxes for many of the dead. It could mean trouble if they got into his records."

"Has his office been raided?"

"Not as far as we know, but we've contacted his partners and told them to check."

"Why would anyone want to rob an accountant?"

"Because he's been a record keeper for three hundred years, and has amassed quite a fortune."

God, he had to have loved his job to have done it for that damn long.

"I'll send you the address," Jack continued. "Mel and her team are already there."

"Has Cole's report for Armel's murder come through yet?"

"He's still working on it, but he believes there were magical influences."

I raised my eyebrows. "In the robbery or the murder?"

"Hard to say. Head over to Bovel's straight away. We need to nip this in the bud quick, before the vamp community gets antsy."

And that wouldn't be good for anyone. "Will do."

"Trouble?" Liander asked as I hung up.

"Another dead vamp. Tell Rhoan I probably won't be home for dinner."

"Will do."

I grabbed my bag and headed back out. The address had come through on the car's onboard computer and I drove over to Brighton in record time. The beachside suburb was the local "it" spot for all those who were more than mere millionaires and, because of this, had its fair share of older vamps. After all, any vamp over a certain age had time enough to amass more money than most humans.

Which didn't mean they were good targets. Most vamps protected their fortunes fiercely, and the wise robber went elsewhere. Especially if he didn't love the thought of becoming a vampire's next meal.

I pulled into the victim's driveway. The house was another of those modern ones that always looked like a big white concrete box-and it still surprised me that vampires chose to live in these places. I would have thought something dark and gothic would be more their style. But then, vampires these days were all about breaking expectations.

A dark van with Directorate plates sat in the tree-lined parking lot and the front door was open, A stick-like figure hovered near the door, dusting for prints. It had to be Janny. Mel's other team member-Marshall-was a portly soul.

I grabbed my ID as I walked up the grandly arched steps and showed it to the mobile recording unit that had been set up in the doorway to record all movement in and out of the house. There'd be others inside.

"Afternoon, Riley," Janny said without looking up. Her voice was surprisingly mellow and rich, though I don't know why I always expected it to be otherwise. Something to do with her insectlike looks, I think.

I stopped and studied the doorknob she was dusting. No obvious prints. "How bad is it, Janny?"

She shrugged. "I've seen worse."

So had I, but that never made it any easier. "Same method of disposal as the first killing?"

"Seems to be. Mel's inside if you want a fuller report. You'll find her upstairs."

"Thanks." I stepped past her carefully and headed for the stairs. The air inside was alive with the flavors of the house-the delicate aroma of rose mixed with the deeper resonance of vampire. Underneath that, the metallic tang of blood. I couldn't smell the wrongness that had been in Armel's. Not on this floor, anyway. I climbed the stairs.

Mel poked her head out of a doorway, brown hair shining in the sunlight streaming in through the windows at the far end. "You want to check the bedroom on the right for me? There's a scent in there I can't define, and I'm wondering if it's the same as the one you found in Armel's."

I nodded and headed in. The interior of Garrison's matched the exterior, and his bedroom reflected this. The white walls held little in the way of adornment and the bed-with its deep red comforter and matching pillows-was the only splash of color in the room. Even the carpet was white-a bad color for a vampire to have in a place where he fed, I would have thought. Even the smallest of splashes would have been noticeable. The red bed, at least, made sense.

I studied the scents of the room, searching for the one I'd found in Armel's. That powerful sense of wrongness was there, but fading fast. Another hour or two, and there'd be nothing more unusual in this room than the scent of sex and the musty aroma that spoke of vampire. A vampire who washed, I thought, thinking of the kid's comment with amusement.

I walked up into the other room. This was a library rather than a study, as Armel's had been, but it still had a safe. Mel was dusting it for prints.

My gaze fell on a chrome and glass side table and I noticed the dust gathered there. And it wasn't the powder Mel was using-this stuff was coarser, and reminded me of the dust I'd blown off Armel's wallet. I glanced back at Mel. "You taken a sample of this?"

She looked across to see what I was pointing at, then nodded. "Don't know what it is, though I don't think it's regular house dust."

"It looks similar to some dust I saw at Armel's."

"Then we'll add it to the priority list."

"Thanks."

I finally let my gaze move to the body. Garrison, or what remained of him, sat in a plush leather chair next to the side table, a book slumped across his chest and the remains of a glass underneath the fingers of his right hand. Wine stained the carpet, its color almost as rich as the bloody pool that had formed under what remained of his legs.

"Where's his head and the end of his legs?" I asked, suddenly realizing what was missing.

"Your guess is as good as mine at this point," she said, catlike green eyes bright in the semishadows. "But there's a couple of rather large Dobermans in the backyard, and the window behind you is open."

I looked at the window, then back at her. "You haven't checked whether the missing bits are out there?"

She smiled grimly. "We have two bird shifters and a cat shifter on this team. Sorry, tackling dogs is off all of our to-do lists. But you could always try."

I could, but if those dogs were out there were guarding the remains of their master, I wasn't going to interrupt them. The only reason a vamp would have a couple of Dobermans would be for protection, and I rather suspected these two would be trained to tackle most nonhumans. I also doubted that one lone werewolf would faze them, even if that werewolf had alpha tendencies and could back down most canines.

"Have you called in a dogcatcher?"

"Yep. But the vampire's bits would have turned to ash very soon after they hit the sunlight, and they could have been thrown in any direction from that window. It can wait."

I turned away from the window. "Any idea how these people are getting into the house?"

She shook her head. "Marshall can't find any obvious-or nonobvious-methods of entry. But they appear to be walking out the front door with their hauls."

That raised my eyebrows. "They would have to have been covered in blood, wouldn't they?"

"You'd think so. Cutting off someone's head and legs while he's alive would have created spurts of arterial spray, even in a vampire, but other than the pools of blood near the remains of his leg and neck, there's nothing."

"So they used a screen or something?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I doubt it. Arterial spray is something of a misnomer-it comes out with a lot of force when a main artery is cut. Even if they'd used a screen, there would have been residual drips."

"And they couldn't have used any sort of floor cover, because then we'd not have the blood pools."

"Exactly."

My gaze ran around the room, then came to rest again on the pools of blood underneath Garrison's body. They weren't nearly big enough for a body that had been bled out. "Maybe they were collecting the blood."

"Maybe. Hard to imagine anyone sitting still through that sort of thing, though, and they don't appear to have used restraints of any kind."

"Could it have been magic?" I asked, looking at Mel again. "Cole thought there might have been magical influences over at Armel's murder."

She frowned. "If it is, it's not one that I've smelled before. And it would have to be an extremely powerful magic to restrain someone when you're hacking him to pieces."

"Well, there's at least one thing that is obvious," I said grimly. "These people have a serious grievance against vampires."

And if they had, maybe Armel and Garrison weren't their first kills. Maybe they a history of it. It was certainly worth checking into.

"You'll get the report to me as soon as possible?"

She nodded. "Won't be tonight, though. The lab is severely backed up at the moment. Even the priority stuff is going to take longer than usual."

"As soon as you can, then. Thanks, Mel."

She nodded and got back to her fingerprinting. I dug my phone out of my pocket, ringing Jack as I headed back to the car.

"Anything?" he said.

"Just the same odd smell that I noticed at Armel's. Have the magi checked out Armel's yet?"

"They're there now."

"Which means we probably won't have an answer for a while yet." I gnawed at my lip as I opened the car. "Had another thought-"

"That's always dangerous."

Despite his dour tones, he was obviously getting back to some sort of normality if he could throw barbed remarks. Well, as normal as one could get after losing a longtime friend.

"It might be worth checking for similar murders in other states," I continued, "just to see if this is an established pattern. These murders are well practiced, Jack. We're dealing with professionals, not novices."

"Sal's already on that. There's nothing yet, but it's going to take awhile. You got anything else?"

I glanced at my watch. It was only four, and it wouldn't take me that long to get back to Fitzroy for my meeting with the street kids. But I was betting Joe would probably already be there, and if not, I'd wait. It was better than going back to the office and doing paperwork.

"I've got a meeting with a kid who knew the latest zombie victim at five."

"What about her parents?"

"She'd been living on the streets for years. I doubt the parents would be able to tell us anything useful about her." And I really didn't want to confront that sort of grief without the hope of getting something useful.

Jack grunted. "Once you finish there, concentrate on your report. I want it on my desk by the morning, Riley."

His tone added the "or else."

"You'll let me know if Cole's report comes in?"

"Yep."

"Thanks, boss."

I hung up and drove to Fitzroy. I got there with tons of time, and walked up to the Macca's on the corner to grab a burger and a shake, downing them both before heading back.

A shiny silver BMW had been parked in front of the building in my absence, and the car looked very conspicuous against the grime and age of the surrounding buildings. Obviously whoever owned the thing had no great love for it, because parking it in an area littered with street kids was nothing short of an invitation for robbery.

I lightly touched the hood as I walked by. Still warm, so it hadn't been parked here long. Inside, there was nothing more than a few folders to be seen. Maybe it belonged to the owner of these old buildings. Maybe the red tape surrounding the building plans had finally been removed, and the street kids were about to find themselves on the street again.

I walked through the old factory doors and drew in a breath as I headed for the stairs. Though I didn't expect it, there was one major difference in the aromas teasing the air.

The kids were no longer alone.

Kye was here.