Embraced By Darkness

Chapter Four

I stopped and shifted back into human form. After tying together the ends of my torn shirt—for some reason, shirts and the more delicate fabrics like lace didn't seem to handle the shifting as well as jeans—I took out my phone, hit record, and made a brief report. Then I set it down and squatted beside the body.

Liam had died with a look of shock and agony on his face. His eyes were wide, his mouth open, and if it were possible for the smell of terror to linger on a body, then it did here.

Blood covered him from head to foot. It saturated his well-pressed pants and drenched his fine-looking cashmere sweater. It also painted the skin across the back of his hands, and colored his fingernails. And there were strands of pale hair caught between his fingers, though nowhere near enough to cover the head of his dead girlfriend.

There was absolutely no doubt he was responsible for the girl's murder. But why? And just how did the shadow the old neighbor had reported relate? Did we have a potential witness, or was he—she?—another sick part of this gruesome event?

I scanned him again, wondering briefly how he'd died. There was no obvious cause—no gunshot or knife wounds. It was as if he'd just been strolling through the trees when he'd fallen over backward and died.

Heart attack? It was a possibility. It had certainly taken a heartbreaking amount of strength to do what he'd done—and he didn't smell like a were or a shifter of any kind. But if he were human, then his actions were even more extraordinary.

I waited for several more minutes, just squatting there, staring at the body, but nothing registered. Maybe this guy's soul didn't want to come out and talk. Maybe it was too shell-shocked. Or ashamed.

I rose, grabbed my phone and ended the recording, then rang the Directorate again.

"Gee, this is my lucky day, isn't it," the cow said dryly.

"I just found our murderer. You'd better send in a second cleanup team."

"You didn't kill him, then?" she said, in her most sarcastic tone. Someone had been reading my file again, and had obviously discovered my reluctance to kill. I'm sure it amused her greatly—though she could hardly talk. Sal wasn't the only one who could break into secure files, and her own such reluctance was the reason she was a liaison rather than a guardian.

"He was already dead when I found him. There's no apparent reason for the death, so we'll need an autopsy."

"I'll arrange it."

"And tell Jack I'm heading back home to finish my holiday. I'll send him my report tomorrow."

"He won't be pleased."

"Tough."

After all, what was he going to do? Fire me? He'd spent too long getting me into the guardian ranks already.

I hung up, sent the two recordings to Jack, then turned off the phone. The minute the cow told him what I was doing, he'd undoubtedly want to talk to me, and all I wanted to do right now was go back to Kellen's, have a long, hot bath, then curl up in bed beside him.

None of which I could do until the cleanup team got here. So I waited, keeping away the curious and the occasional dog. When the team—three shifters I'd never met before—arrived, I explained events and told them to report their findings back to Cole, so he could include it in his report.

Then I retrieved my coat, and got the hell out of there.

I went home long enough to grab my ID, just in case I was called out again, then continued on to Kellen's. He was indeed working when I arrived back at his building. He looked totally scrumptious in black pants and a pale cream shirt, both of which showed off his gleaming chocolate skin to perfection.

He looked up as I entered his office, and did something of a double take. "You look a mess."

"With compliments like that, is it any wonder I'm madly in love with you?" I replied dryly.

"No, seriously," he said, lightly touching the semi-healed cut near my hairline, his fingers so warm against my skin. "What's happened?"

"The cab got shunted off the road by a truck." I shrugged. "I'm okay, the driver's okay, so it doesn't really matter anymore."

"You should have contacted me—"

"So you can do what?" I interrupted, and saw the annoyance flair in his eyes. Not wanting an argument, I quickly added, "I would have rung you if it was anything serious. You want to go out for lunch?"

"Unfortunately, I'm crazy here at the moment." He shoved a hand into his trouser pocket and withdrew the keys. "Consider my home your home. I'll be up there as soon as I can."

"Your home might soon be my home, so it goes without saying that I'll make myself comfortable there."

"There's no might about that, woman," he said, tone a growl but eyes glinting with amusement.

I grinned, then grabbed his shirt and dragged him to me, kissing him long and hard, right there in his office, in front of everyone. "Don't be long."

I released him and did a sexy walk on out of there. He didn't follow, nor did I expect him to. But I was betting he'd be upstairs sooner rather than later.

I stripped down once I'd reached his apartment, then poured myself a luxurious bath, sprinkling the water with the lemongrass scented salts I found in the bath cabinet. At least they'd help erase the lingering aroma of death and blood from my skin. I shoved several new age CDs onto the player, relaxing a little as the ambient beats and melodious singing filled the apartment, then climbed into the rich-smelling hot water.

And there I stayed until all the underlying aches from the accident had been washed away, and my skin began to resemble a prune.

Once dried and dressed, I wandered out to the kitchen and made myself a coffee. It was two in the afternoon, which meant my earlier assumption about Kellen's appearance had been totally wrong. Work was more problematic than I'd figured, obviously.

But given there wasn't a whole lot I could do about that—other than hope he got up here before nighttime—I made myself a sandwich then headed over to his computer. I typed up my report and sent it to Jack, then cruised the Net for a while, checking out my favorite music sites to see what was new. Finally, with nothing better to do, I decided to print out the file Blake had sent me, and read that again.

Only to discover that Adrienne had shared an apartment with another woman. Blake hadn't said anything about the woman, but it was briefly mentioned in one of the police reports. Yet no one seemed to have interrogated her, which was odd. I placed the file on the desk and went to the white pages to find a phone number. None listed. Either the number was private, or both women used their cell phones rather than having a landline, which was certainly a cheaper option these days. I went back online and signed into the Directorate's database. Nothing major had happened at Adrienne's address beyond a large number of break-ins. But then, while St. Kilda was considered a trendy suburb, it still hadn't shaken its darker past. Prostitutes and druggies still haunted the streets, and break-ins were often a side effect of at least one of those elements. Had to feed the habit somehow.

I drummed my fingers on the desk for several seconds, wondering if I had time enough to go out before Kellen came back up.

Which was unlike me. I'd never run my life to suit a man, and it was stupid to start doing so now. I cared for Kellen, there was no doubting that, but we weren't yet a committed couple. Even if we were, I had no intention of tailoring every moment of my life to someone else's time clock. That just wasn't my idea of married bliss.

And if it was his, then he was in for a huge shock. This was not likely to be the last time I was in his bad books.

So I wrote him a brief note, picked up my purse and his keys, and headed out. I caught a cab and headed to Adrienne's address.

Rather unsurprisingly, her apartment was on the Esplanade, one of St. Kilda's main streets and only a stone's throw away from the beach, Luna Park, and the Ackland Street nightlife. The pack's finances had certainly improved more than I'd imagined—either that, or my grandfather had been more of a skinflint than I'd figured. Certainly when we'd been there, a luxury apartment in the middle of a thriving hot spot like St. Kilda was an unlikely acquisition. And the pack did own it, not Adrienne or the woman she shared with.

I paid the driver, then hopped out of the cab and stared up at the building. It was one of those modern structures that really didn't have any distinct style of its own—a slab-sided, low-profiled affair that at least didn't look too incongruous against the more elegant buildings next to it.

I pressed the security buzzer. A thinnish, bored-looking man in his mid-fifties looked at me for several seconds from behind the safety of his desk, then said through the intercom buzzer, "What can I do for you, miss?"

His voice had that it's-all-too-much-effort tone that guaranteed instant annoyance. At least to me.

I pulled out my ID and slapped it against the glass. "I need to talk to the occupants of apartment 303."

"Jodie Carr and Adrienne Jenson? I don't believe either is in at the moment."

"I don't care what you believe. I intend to go up there and discover for myself. Now, let me in."

He did, I strode over to the desk, my heels echoing sharply against the highly polished marble tiles.

"Have you got the master key for the apartment?"

"Have you got a. warrant?"

His bored, somewhat condescending tones had my temper rising a little further, but I somehow managed to keep my voice even as I said, "I don't need one. I'm Directorate. Now, am I going to have to throw your ass in jail for being a pain, or are you just going to give me the key?"

"Hey, I was only doing my job, you know?"

"If you were doing your job, this building would not have such a high rate of break-ins." I gave him my sweetest smile, "Someone with a suspicious mind might think there was inside information being sold."

He muttered something under his breath, and somewhat sullenly handed me the keys.

When I got up to the apartment, I knocked on the door and waited patiently for an answer. But there was none—and no sign of body heat in the front room under infrared. The apartment itself seemed deathly quiet. I tried again, just in case someone was in the bathroom. Then I slipped the master key into the lock and opened the door.

The thick, flowery scent of perfume hit me almost straightaway, but underneath was a sour aroma I couldn't quite place. I wrinkled my nose, and wondered how any wolf could live with a smell like that. It was awful.

Trying not to breathe through my nose, I stepped past the door and into a surprisingly large living space. Although perhaps that feeling was enhanced by the white of carpets, walls, and ceiling, and the careful but sparse placement of furniture. All that white could have made the place feel sterile, but there were bold splashes of color in the form of cushions, flowers, and thick, thick rugs that had me wanting to rip off my shoes and run my toes through them. The overall feel of the place was surprisingly warm—though it was a feeling that was undoubtedly helped by the sunshine splashing through the huge wall of windows.

I ripped my gaze away from the million dollar view, and said, "Hello?"

The sound echoed, filling the warm silence with sound. Trepidation tripped across my skin and I shivered a little. Though why I suddenly felt something was out of place, I couldn't really say. My clairvoyance tended not to give out juicy little details like that.

I walked across the living room, my footsteps ringing on the shiny wooden floorboards. The kitchen was small but functional, the fridge filled with fruit, vegetables, meat, and wine. But there wasn't a piece of chocolate or a cookie in sight. How on earth did they cope with the midnight hungers?

I closed the fridge door, and headed up the hallway. There was a small laundry area—though it was more a laundry closet than an actual room—a bathroom, and three bedrooms.

Jodie Carr was in the third and largest of the bedrooms.

She was lying atop a queen-sized bed, the blankets tangled around her bare legs and her shirt and skirt darkened by sweat. Her breathing was uneven, her face an unhealthy shade, and there was puke all over her chin and the sheets.

I swore softly and called it in, then walked over to the bed. This close, she smelled of the urine and vomit that stained her and the coverlet—hence the sour smell. It was a wonder she hadn't choked to death.

After carefully pulling her onto her side, I lightly slapped her cheek, trying to get a response. I didn't know if she'd taken drugs or whether this was merely alcohol induced, and I had no idea how to treat either. Still, thank God I hadn't listened to the idiot downstairs and just left.

"Who is this?" a deep voice said from behind me.

I jumped and swung around, my fists clenching automatically.

Blake stood at the end of the bed, his arms crossed. His form seemed more solid than it had been up on the island. Perhaps it was easier to send his psyche into known areas.

"Her name is Jodie Carr," I said, then added, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Checking up on your progress. Why is this Carr woman in Adrienne's bed?"

"You tell me."

He glanced at me, gray eyes hinting at the anger that wasn't yet showing on his flat features. "Why would I know?"

"Well, she's been sharing the apartment with Adrienne for more than a year, and the pack does own the apartment." I hesitated, but couldn't help adding, "Or does the chief dog not know what goes on in his own kennel?"

His eyes narrowed to slits, and the sense of danger was suddenly very palpable. "Adrienne made no mention of sharing, nor was this person ever here when Patrin or I visited," he said, in a tight, edgy voice that suggested he knew—or guessed—a whole lot more than he was willing to say.

Which was an interesting reaction. Why would he hold back anything if he was so desperate to find his granddaughter? And if he didn't actually know anything about his granddaughter's living arrangements, then why would Adrienne hide Jodie's presence from her father and grandfather? The obvious answer was that she didn't think either would approve.

I glanced down at the woman on the bed, and I realized she was human. That might be one very good reason for the caution. But there could be another.

"Is Adrienne gay?"

His head jerked back so fast anyone would have thought I'd punched him. "No! Why would you even think that? She's my granddaughter."

"And being your granddaughter precludes the possibility of being gay, does it?"

"She is not one of those."

Again, his voice held an edge that was almost desperate. So, he mightn't know—or rather, might not want to know—the truth, but he guessed it all the same.

The fact that the mighty leader of the Jenson red pack was also homophobic was no great surprise. That had been apparent from his reaction to Rhoan over the years. But it must have been hell growing up in his family, knowing you were the one thing he hated. No wonder Adrienne had kept her sexuality such a closely guarded secret.

"Paramedics," another voice called from the other room.

"In the last bedroom down the hall," I yelled, then stepped around the bed, out of the way. Blake moved with me, his form shimmering, dropping in and out of focus.

A man and a woman came into the bedroom. She looked straight through Blake, not even acknowledging his presence. Which meant it was only me who could see him.

Lucky me.

I flashed my badge and told them how I'd found her.

"Smells like alcohol," one said, as his partner set the bags down. He looked around the room. "You seen any empty pill bottles? Anything to suggest she might have taken something else?"

"To be honest, I haven't really looked."

He grunted and looked at his partner, who immediately began a search. No empty bottles were found in the bedroom, but an empty bottle of sleeping pills were discovered in the bathroom.

"Right-o," the ambulance officer said cheerfully. "At least we know what we're dealing with."

"Will she be all right?"

"Probably. The depressant effects of alcohol can add to the effects of the sleeping pills, and can cause people to go into a coma or die, but I'd say she's puked most of the pills up. It probably saved her life."

Considering she hadn't choked on her own vomit, either, she was one lucky woman. Although she probably wouldn't think so when she finally came to.

"What hospital will you be taking her to?" I asked. "I'll need to question her once she's in the clear."

"The Alfred," the woman said, without looking at me.

"Thanks." I headed out. Blake followed.

"Why are you so interested in her?" he said. "What does she matter?"

"She matters," I said, keeping my voice low and free of anger, "because she may know of Adrienne's last movements. You know, who she was with, and so on."

I walked into the second bedroom and began looking around. This room smelled a little fresher, hinting at lime and citrus. It also had a small balcony attached, with a metal table and two chairs filling up most of the space. An ashtray and lighter sat in the middle of the table. I wondered which of the women smoked. Probably Jodie. It was more a human habit than wolf—there were far too many poisonous scents evident to sensitive noses. And if Adrienne put up with Jodie smoking, they really had to be in love.

There were lots of little bits and pieces scattered about the room that suggested that this room was used more as a dressing room than a bedroom. I opened the closet door to check it out. It was small, and packed with clothes sorted into two different sizes. Adrienne was tall and lanky, if these were anything to go by, because Jodie was on the petite side.

I closed the closet door, and went through the tallboy drawers. Underclothing, sweaters, and pajamas, in two distinct sizes. This was looking more and more like a couple's living arrangement rather than two single women sharing.

The paramedics trooped out with the still-unconscious Jodie. I checked the rest of the apartment, but didn't really find anything enlightening. I stopped in the middle of the living room and wondered where to go next.

Blake drifted in from the kitchen. "If you'd read my report, you would have already known that there was nothing here."

"Yeah, you searched so thoroughly you completely missed the fact there was another woman in residence."

His expression darkened. Once I would have feared that look, and part of me still did. I was a wolf, and there was no escaping the inherent need to obey my alpha. But even if he'd been real and here, I would have held my ground. I'd faced far worse than the likes of Blake in the last year or so, and much of the fear he still engendered was due more to memories than the man himself.

" Adrienne would have told me if this was a permanent living arrangement."

I snorted. "If so, then she'd probably be the first adult in history to be completely honest with her parents. I never was."

"Yeah, but that was probably more a by-product of your unsavory parentage than any real need to keep secrets."

My fingers curled into my palm, and it took a real effort not to throw that punch. "Make allusions to my mother's line, and I will come down to pack lands and rip your goddamn throat out!"

He studied me for a minute, then a wide, cold smile split his features. "I believe you mean that."

I didn't say anything, just stared at him as the anger pulsed through me.

He shook his head in an almost pitying way, and added, "You wouldn't get five steps within our boundaries, let alone anywhere near enough to challenge me."

"If you believe that, then your research is not as complete as you think." I paused, then added, "And if you think I'd be coming alone, you're delusional."

"Do you honestly think your brother's presence would make any difference?"

I smiled. A cold, nasty smile. "Learn what we are—and what we can do—before you make rash statements like that, Blake."

He shook his head again, his expression almost amused, and said, "Adrienne had no reason to hide anything from us."

I flexed my hands, but it didn't do much to ease the tension still riding me. "Yeah. You and your sons are so damn tolerant and kind when it comes to homosexuals that she had absolutely no cause to fear your reaction at all."

His gaze darkened again. Spectral figure or not, a wise wolf would have shut her mouth.

"I do not wish to hear that accusation again." His voice was soft. Deadly. The sort of voice heard just before he threw someone off a mountain.

Despite myself, I shivered.

"If you want answers, you may have to face a whole lot worse than homosexuality."

"Like what?"

I shrugged. "Cases never play out as you expect them to."

"What I expect is Adrienne home safe and sound. Nothing more, nothing less."

"You and the families of the thousands of others who go missing every year. In a case like this, what you want or expect doesn't really matter." I glanced at the time. "I'm off home for some R and R. See you around, Blake."

"Why aren't you going to the hospital to interview this Jodie person?"

"Because she won't be in any real state to talk until at least tomorrow."

I turned my back on him and walked out. Though his gaze felt like it was burning holes in my back, he didn't actually follow, and for that, I was grateful.

When I finally got back to Kellen's apartment, he was sitting on the sofa reading Blake's file. He looked up when I entered, his green eyes concerned.

"Your current case involves your pack?"

I wrinkled my nose. "It isn't really an official case. My alpha has asked me to investigate several disappearances."

"Alpha? Don't you mean your grandfather?"

"No. He was challenged and lost."

"Ah."

He put the file down then held out a hand. I weaved my fingers through his and allowed myself to be pulled onto his lap. His arms circled my waist and his scent wrapped around me, until all I could feel was his warm and steady presence. And it was a somewhat delicious sensation, knowing that this big, strong wolf was mine. That he wanted me, and only me.

If I was a cat, I'd pretty much be purring in contentment right now.

"Your pack has no claim on you once another alpha has claimed you as his own," he said, "I can stop him contacting you, if you like."

I raised my eyebrows. "You can?"

He brushed my hair to one side, and kissed the nape of my neck. A tremor of desire rolled through me. "Just say the word, and he is yesterday's news."

"He's a rather nasty piece of work."

"So can I be if someone is hassling my woman."

His woman. I liked the sound of that. Liked it very much.

"That's so very tempting," I murmured, wriggling closer, enjoying the heat and scent of him as it flowed across my senses. "But I'd better deal with it myself."

"The offer remains if you happen to change your mind." His lips were so close every word felt like a caress against my skin. Desire spread like a wildfire. "Are you finished for the day?"

I draped my arms loosely around his neck and dropped butterfly kisses on his lips, his nose, and his cheeks. "I'm yours to do with whatever you wish."

"Anything?" he said, voice so deep and husky it sent a shiver of delight down my spine.

"Anything at all."

"Even ravish you senseless, until all you want to do is beg for mercy?"

Anticipation sizzled, and I grinned. "It will take a long, long time to get me there, wolf."

"I can be a patient man when I want to be."

"Prove it."

His lips met mine, and from that moment on, there was no more talking, just a whole lot of loving.

And oh, it was good. I might have had many lovers in my short lifetime, but the way Kellen made me feel was somehow totally different to anyone else. There might not be the same sort of connection between us that I'd found—however briefly—with Quinn, but there was a connection all the same. It was deep, it was real, and it was so, so wonderful. He made me feel cherished, safe, like I was the only woman in the universe, the only woman for him. And that was a mighty powerful feeling.

Was it soul deep? I guess more than a part of me believed so, but something within still held back the words he wanted to hear Maybe it was stupid, given the emotions tumbling through my mind, but I still wanted time to be sure.

Forever was a long time to live with a mistake.

Despite Jack's promises that the Directorate's daytime division would have proper offices by the time I got back from the holidays, it appeared we were still holed up in the old conference room. Which was fine for the moment, but when Kade, Iktar, and whoever else Jack had hauled into the squad finally got through training, it was going to be a might snug. Not that I minded getting snug with Kade, but Iktar? I shuddered. The featureless spirit lizard was not my idea of a good time.

So why the delay? The night division had more space than they needed—and decent coffee dispensers to boot—while we made do with one room, and a coffeemaker that had to be constantly refilled.

Of course, the fact that the night division was basically filled with leashed psychos might have had something to do with it. Wouldn't want the inmates getting restless, and all.

Jack wasn't in sight when I strode in, but down the hall, in the liaison's room, the cow was doing her sultry voice routine, so it was a fair bet Jack was down there.

Rhoan sat at one of the desks that had been squeezed into our so-called operations room. He glanced up as I entered, and said, "How are you feeling after your brush with the mad trucker yesterday?"

"Other than a healing cut or two, I'm fine. Any word about the driver?"

"Broken arm and a few lacerations is about the extent of his war wounds. The truck was stolen, by the way. Jack said it was found abandoned an hour later."

"Don't suppose anyone saw the driver?"

"Not a soul."

"Typical." I poured us both a coffee, slopped in some milk, then plonked my butt down on the edge of Rhoan's desk and handed him a cup. "I don't suppose you managed to look into Adrienne's movements, did you?"

He wrapped his fingers around the mug and leaned back in his chair. "Did you know she was a reporter?"

"I guessed it was a possibility. She was apparently asking all sorts of questions up on the island."

"Well if she was working on a story, then she was doing it on her own. According to her boss, she was supposed to be on holidays."

"So she didn't contact him about anything?"

"Nope. Last story she did for him was an entertainment piece on a new nightclub."

"There's a new wolf club? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

He grinned. "If you read the newspapers more, you might have known about it. But it's not strictly a wolf club." He picked up a matchbook off his desk and flicked it toward me. "It's the first mixed-race club allowed in Victoria."

I caught the matchbook one-handed. It was black, with "Mirror Image" written on the front flap in a white, basic font. Underneath this was a phone number and address, and nothing else. I flipped open the lid, and inside sat two neat little rows of matches, their tips black instead of the usual red. There was nothing on the back of the matchbook.

I looked back at my brother. "Mixed-race? As in, open to humans and nonhumans?"

"Yep. It operates in the exact same fashion as regular clubs."

I raised an eyebrow. "What happens when the moon is rising?"

"Nothing. They're open all year around."

"Really? Have the laws changed or are the owners just crazy?"

The old rules gave clubs the right to exclude human entry entirely—and this was a good thing, because were loving could sometimes get extremely rough, especially during the full moon phase. The fact of the matter was, humans just were physically unable to handle it. And I didn't mean sexually. We could shift shape to heal any wounds received during intercourse. They could not. What might be a deep but easily healed wound for a were could be fatal for a human. And the outcry after such a death would be huge, even if the act was consensual.

Of course, the idiots in parliament had been trying to legislate a change for ages, but the Australia-wide protests from both the supernatural community and the saner section of humanity had so far managed to stall them. Or so I'd thought.

"They haven't changed," Rhoan said. "They've just been… ignored. This club is operating under a trial license for a year. If every thing goes well, the current law forbidding human entry into wolf clubs will be overturned."

"That's just stupid."

"Humans have always wanted what they can't have. It's the whole forbidden fruit effect."

That was an effect not restricted to humans, but in this case, the laws were there for a very good reason—the protection of humans.

"This club would have to have a hell of an insurance bill." I looked at the matchbook, flipping it over and still seeing nothing of interest. "Did you ferret out the article she wrote?"

"I've requested a copy be sent to us." He paused. "Adrienne is very well liked by her coworkers, you know. That's surprising, considering her family."

"I guess there has to be one good apple in every bad barrel." I took a sip of coffee, then asked, "No whispers of her sexuality, then?"

He raised a pale eyebrow "No. Why?"

"Because she's sharing her apartment with a woman Blake had no idea existed, and I found that woman overdosed in Adrienne's bed yesterday afternoon."

"That doesn't mean there's a relationship. They could be good friends."

"And how many people are willing to off themselves over the disappearance of a good friend?"

"Not many, but then, it wouldn't be the first time someone emotionally unstable has done such a thing."

True. "Nothing else of interest?"

He shook his head. "I haven't had the chance to do anything more. I've been chasing after this damn baby vamp sucking the life out of folk in the Footscray district."

"When will these idiots realize we make the creator pay for the crimes of his young?" The Directorate wasted too much of its time ridding the world of rogue baby vamps when there were often greater evils to worry about.

He snorted, "For some of them, probably never."

"What, their brains go out the door when they become a vampire?"

"Think of it this way. Expecting some vamps to control their urge to create underlings is like handing out free condoms and expecting horny teenagers to actually use them. The excitement of the moment always gets in the way."

Amusement ran through me. "That's the first time I've heard of vampires being compared to horny teenagers."

He shrugged. "It works, though. Most of these babies are created by vamps who are still young themselves and who love the feel of power it gives them."

"So have you caught any trace of his daytime hidey-hole yet?"

"Narrowed it down to a couple of buildings. I'm off hunting once Jack gets here for his daily pep talk."

I grinned. Pep talks weren't exactly Jack's forte, which is exactly why we referred to his morning rundowns that way. And it had the extra bonus of pissing him off—something I liked to do every now and again, just for the hell of it.

I tossed the matchbook in the air and caught it lightly. "I'll check this out once I talk to the girlfriend at the hospital."

"What girl in what hospital?" jack said, as he strode into the room.

"It's a missing persons case that may blow up to be a whole lot more."

He walked over to the coffee machine, filled up a cup, then said, "Tell me about it."

I did. He harrumphed. "I don't want it monopolizing your time, but keep me updated on progress all the same."

I nodded. At least I had the go-ahead to pull in Directorate resources if I needed to. "Has Cole handed in his report from the Richmond murder case?"

"It's in the system. Both parties involved tested as human."

"What? Impossible."

"Not according to the lab results."

"But he tore that poor woman apart. A human just isn't capable of that sort of strength."

"You mentioned possible vamp involvement in your report."

"Yeah, but if a vamp had been there, we would have smelled him."

He gave me the "look." "Not necessarily. Some of us do wash, you know."

I smiled. "Those of you who do are few and far between." Smelling like the grave seemed to be the "in" thing amongst Jack's lot. Though, admittedly, I did know some very nice-smelling vamps. Jack was one. Quinn was another. Even the cow smelled pleasant, though I was never likely to tell her that. "Besides, if there was someone else involved, wouldn't there have been some indication? Surely Cole and his team would have found something—some hint or clue to suggest this?"

"Not if our vamp was an extremely strong psychic."

"Can even the most powerful psychic push a human to superhuman extremes? I've never heard of a talent that could endow someone with that sort of strength."

"There's a lot of talents out there that we know a whole lot of nothing about," Rhoan commented. "And there arc lots of labs playing around with all sorts of enhancing drugs."

"A comforting thought for those of us on the front line," I muttered.

"Give it a few more years, and you won't even blink at the sort of crap you see or find."

"Actually, that's a place I'm fighting to stay away from."

Rhoan's gaze met mine, gray eyes serious. "You won't have any other choice but to find that place in yourself. It's either that, or go mad."

"Then going mad is the better option."

I didn't want to have the skill to switch my emotions off. Didn't want to ever lose the anger and horror of walking into a crime scene and seeing another useless death. For good or for bad, I was now a guardian, but I'd be damned if I became just another cold-blooded killer.

Which my brother, for all that I loved him, could be. I'd seen it happen. Seen the switch flicked.

It was damn scary stuff.

"Business, people, business," Jack said. "Riley, I want you to go check the boyfriend's current residence. See if there's anything there that hints at supernatural or nonhuman involvement. Then check the girl's apartment and go talk to her parents."

I nodded. "What makes you think the boyfriend may have known this vamp, if indeed there was a vamp?"

"I doubt it was mere coincidence that this vamp and those two young people happened to arrive at that house the same night. Something is going on, and we need to uncover what."

Before it happened again.

And it would happen again.

I shivered and rubbed my arms, wishing my goddamn clairvoyance would be a little more helpful. Like, give me a name, or a location, or something useful like that. Weird little premonitions of impending doom weren't going to help anything, least of all my nerves.

"Rhoan, how are you going with the Footscray killings?"

I jumped off the desk as Rhoan made his report, then dumped my purse on the next desk and sat down, logging into the computer and holding still for the eye scan. Once I'd typed in my password, I entered the system and pulled up Cole's files. I studied his report, but avoided the pictures. I'd seen more than enough bloodshed and human bits up close and personal.

There was nothing that leapt out and waved clue. Nothing that explained the sudden act of violence by a man apparently ready and willing to settle down with the woman he'd so brutally murdered.

Why would he do such a thing? There was no history of violence in Liam Barry's background, no brushes with the law. He'd been a model student through school and university, and had been considered by the law firm he worked for future partner material.

So what had turned him? And how had he managed to tear Callie Harris—the woman he supposedly loved—limb from limb?

I didn't know, but I had every intention of finding out.

I checked both his and his parents' address, then glanced up at Jack, waiting until he and Rhoan had finished discussing the baby vamp case before saying, "I need a car."

"See Salliane."

"Unlike some in this room, that's something I try to do as little as possible."

He gave me his vampire face. The one that said he was annoyed but trying not to show it. "Will you two just quit the crap and get along?"

"Not possible, boss. She's a cow, and I'm a bitch. Two species that will never see eye to eye."

"Just get down there and get that car before I find something nasty for you to do."

I was tempted to ask what could be worse than the murder scene he'd sent me to yesterday but, knowing Jack, he probably could find something worse. So I shut my mouth, collected my purse, and got out of there.

The cow turned around as I entered the liaisons office, and rolled her brown eyes. She always reminded me of a caramel-haired Amazon—she had the height and the strength and the added bonus of big breasts. I pretty much figured she was wet dream material for most men, which made Jack's reluctance on the involvement front all the more puzzling. I mean, he was a man with needs, and Sal sure as hell was willing to fulfill each and every one of them. Or was it simply the fact that she was also a vamp? Quinn had told me two vamps couldn't actually live together because of the whole territorial thing. And yet we had vamps living downstairs side by side without any real problems, so maybe Quinn had been flinging yet another lie. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"Well, well," she said, voice all sultry. "The mutt in person. Isn't this a pleasure."

I gave her my most pleasant smile. Her eyes narrowed and she stiffened in the seat, as if readying for an attack. Amusement bubbled through me. There might be parts of this job I hated, but God, little moments like this just made it all seem worthwhile.

"Jack sent me in here to show you how the liaison job is really done. He's sick of your crappy mistakes."

Her gaze darkened. "Jack would never say that!"

"If you think so, then you don't know him as well as you think you do." I swiped a set of keys off the hook and glanced at the number. "I'm taking car 32."

"That's not your assigned car."

"It is now," I said airily, and walked out.

"Bitch!" she yelled after me.

I chuckled softly. No doubt she'd run to Jack and have a whine, which meant I'd get in trouble when I got back, but hey, if it pissed her off, then the pain of listening to Jack rant was worth it.

Though why I felt the need to be such a bitch around that woman, I couldn't honestly say. She just rubbed me the wrong way—and that was never a good thing to do to a werewolf. Especially one armed with a mouth that tended to run out of control at the worst possible moments.

I found the car and headed out of the underground parking lot. Liam Barry lived in a Middle Park apartment that sat on busy Beaconsfield Parade, right opposite the beach. It was, I discovered when I got there, tiny—boasting one bedroom and a minute kitchen and living area—but the views were incredible.

I walked over to the mess of men's magazines and discarded clothes, and stared out at the sea and sand for several moments, wishing I could throw open the windows and let the cool salty breeze in. Let it wash away the stale and unused feel of the apartment.

Forcing myself to turn away, I let my gaze sweep the tiny, dusty interior, looking for something that jumped out. Nothing did. The magazines and mess were pretty much what I expected from a high-flying bachelor—which, until he actually married Callie, was what he'd been. An attached bachelor, granted, but a bachelor all the same.

I toed through the magazines, then moved into the kitchen. His fridge had a sour smell, and the milk looked to be forming into butter. I shut the door quickly, wrinkling my nose at the odor. On the side of the fridge were several bills—electricity and gas. The only thing unusual about them was the fact they were overdue. For some of us, overdue bills were a fact of life—especially when we had a brother who loved shopping sprees—but Li am made a ton of money. Still, maybe he was just one of those people who tended to forget them.

I blew out a breath, then turned and walked into the bedroom. It was barely big enough to hold the king-sized bed. And the rumpled, stale-smelling sheets suggested they hadn't been used or changed in quite a while. Obviously, Liam didn't spend a whole lot of time here anymore. After searching through his closets and drawers, I gave it up as a bad joke and headed outside to suck in some air.

Once back in the car, I typed Callie's address into the nav computer then headed there. She lived several blocks up the road in Port Melbourne, in an old industrial area that was rapidly gaining popularity with young trendies who liked being close to both the city and the beach, but weren't willing to foot the million dollar price tags some of the other beachside suburbs were now commanding. Her apartment was one of those converted warehouses, with views over the bay and port.

Again, the apartment wasn't big, but it had two bedrooms and a larger living space than Liam's. He'd obviously been living here for a while, because his clothes were scattered haphazardly about. I searched through the rooms from top to bottom, but couldn't find anything odd. There were lots of pictures of them together, and some of those had other people in them. They looked like a couple very much in love, which made what had happened all the more puzzling.

I pocketed a photo of the two of them and left. I'd barely reached the pavement when my cell phone rang, the sound seeming shrill and uneasy against the cool calm of the sea air.

Trepidation ran through me and with some reluctance, I pulled the phone out of my pocket and answered.

"We've got another one," Jack said bluntly.