Embraced By Darkness

Chapter Six

I stared at the finger pointed so firmly in my direction, then at the wide, violet eyes. There was no fear in those eyes, only a matter-of-factness that chilled me.

Whatever it was she was seeing, she believed it.

"Where do you see death, Risa?" Dia asked, her voice as matter-of-fact as her daughter's. Like seeing these sort of things was an everyday occurrence. And perhaps for the two of them, it was.

"Here." The little girl patted her left shoulder.

A chill ran through me. I clenched my fingers and resisted the urge to say anything.

"Can you describe him for me?" Dia asked.

The little girl screwed up her nose. "Dark, floaty. He smiles, Mommy."

"Does he reach for Riley?"

She shook her head. "He watches."

"Nothing else?"

"No."

"That's wonderful. Now, would you like a cookie?"

Pigtails went flying again as the little girl nodded enthusiastically.

"Then we'll race you to the kitchen."

The little girl took off. Dia rose to her feet and looked at me.

" 'That's wonderful'?" I asked, eyebrow raised.

"I don't want Risa to be afraid of what she sees, nor do I ever wish her to be afraid to talk about it. So, I praise rather than react, no matter what she says she sees."

"And has she ever seen anything bad?"

"She once saw death with his hand on the shoulder of a client. He died the next week, hit by a truck at a pedestrian crossing."

"Oh." Great. Not that death and I hadn't been chummy before. Hell, I'd even faced the god of death himself and was still alive to tell the tale. "So what does it mean when she sees death near me, but not touching?"

"I'd presume it means you're about to do something dangerous, something that puts your life on the line. Be careful when hunting this serial killer."

"I intend to be, trust me." I shivered and rubbed my arms. "I think that coffee you mentioned might be a good idea now."

She smiled and motioned me to follow her. We went through a large, formal dining room and into a kitchen that was as large as my entire apartment. Unlike the other rooms in this house, though, it had a homey feel to it, filled with warmth and the rich scent of baking. Risa was already in a high chair, munching on cookies.

A thin-looking shifter turned around as we entered, her smile rippling across her face, making her rough, aquiline features glow with cheeriness and affection. Obviously a woman who loved her job.

"A guest! How lovely. Will coffee and cake be good, Miss Dia?"

"Elsa, this is Riley. And coffee and cake would be wonderful."

"Good, good. You sit, I serve."

So we sat and we talked, the topics ranging from her work and clients to news, shops, and TV. It was a tentative beginning, but a beginning all the same.

And, oddly enough, despite the fact her visions had confirmed that my future would not be what I'd always imagined, I left Dia's house feeling a lot more enthusiastic about whatever fate had in store.

I climbed into my car and headed back to the Directorate. Given what Dia had seen of the shadow, my next line of inquiry had to be a search through past murder records, both Directorate and police. Which would probably take ages. But while the computer was doing its stuff, I could at least catch up on Cole's latest findings. Not that I thought anything would be a lot different from the first murder.

I drove into the parking lot and was lucky enough to find a spot near the elevators. The car keys I pocketed. While regulations said that all keys had to be returned to the responsible officer on reentry to the Directorate, I'd probably need the car later, so it was easier to simply keep them. And besides, it would piss off Salliane.

I went through all the scanner and ID checks, then headed downstairs. Rhoan wasn't in the squad room when I got back, but Jack was. "Cole's initial report for the second murder," he said, handing me a folder. "He expects to complete investigations this evening."

I tucked the folder under my arm and helped myself to coffee. "He didn't notice anything unusual there?"

"No." Jack hesitated. "Are you sure this thing you're sensing at the crime scenes isn't a vampire?"

I shook my head. "It's not a vamp. A vamp couldn't get close enough to the scene, not without Cole and his team sensing him." Because a shifter's senses were every bit as keen as a werewolf's. "It doesn't even feel like a soul."

"It's not like you've had a whole lot of experience with souls yet."

And if I had my way, that lack would continue. But this was one instance where I was never likely to get my way. "When I feel souls, I feel the chill of death or whatever the hell the afterlife is before they appear. With this other thing, all I feel is evil. It needs to kill, it hungers to kill, and then it hangs about afterward to gloat in the destruction it causes."

"So it could well be a soul—just one so warped in what it has become that's all you're sensing."

"Maybe." I sipped my coffee, then said, "But how the hell does a soul kill?"

"I don't know. I'll ask our magi division and see if they know."

I nodded. A few months ago I hadn't even known the Directorate had a division that dealt with magic, spirits, and whatnot. It often made me wonder what other divisions we had that I knew nothing about.

"I don't suppose anyone else has talked to the sister yet?"

"No. She's still under sedation." He hesitated. "Why?"

I shrugged. "I was just curious as to whether our second victim had recently been unfaithful."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "You think unfaithfulness is the key to both murders?"

"It's certainly a possibility," I told him about my visits to Nonpareil and Dia. "If unfaithfulness is the key, then we have our link. And our murderer. But he's going to be damnably hard to track down."

"Especially if he's a spirit rather than flesh."

Very true. I walked over to my desk and sat down. "I'm going to do a global search for any past murders resembling our current two. Dia suggested these aren't his first kills, so maybe we'll get lucky. Has Cole given any indication of what killed the second husband?"

"It's looking like a heart attack, same as the first guy."

"Which doesn't make sense, you know. Neither man was heart attack material."

"Given the exertion they underwent, and the shock to their bodies, it's not surprising their hearts gave out." He tossed his plastic coffee cup into the trash. "Kade and Iktar should be finished training next week."

I couldn't help a smile. Having Kade at close quarters would make this dreary old conference room that much more exciting. Although Jack's ethics of not mixing work and pleasure could prove problematic. Especially since Kade was too delicious for my own good. "You still planning to use Iktar in the day division?"

"We'll probably float him, depending on situational requirements. They'll both be officially on deck in two weeks."

"So you've given them a whole week off? You're all heart, boss."

"Given our workload," he said grimly, "they're damn lucky to get that. Tell Rhoan I want to see him as soon as he gets back."

He walked out. I signed into the system, then set about tracking down police reports. As I expected, it was a long, arduous process, and I was still there four hours later when Rhoan finally traipsed in.

I leaned back in my chair and rubbed a hand across my eyes. "Boss wants to see you."

"Jack can wait. I need something to drink." He raised a plastic coffee cup in question. I nodded. And noted that he was covered in dirt and cobwebs, and looking more than a little raw around the edges.

"You catch your vampire?"

"Yeah. Bastard put up a hell of a fight though."

"I thought he was only a youngster?"

"Even a young vampire can be bloody strong." He poured the coffees then handed me one. "This one had help. Bitch scratched me."

He twisted his neck and showed me his battle scars—three deep but healing lines gouged into his skin. "Nasty. What happened to the bitch?"

"Her ass is now in jail. Assaulting a guardian and all that."

"Ah. A human."

"A stupid human, who will spend several years in jail for said stupidity." He plonked down on the edge of my desk. "How goes the hunt for the bastard's missing daughter?"

"Slowly. I talked to her lover today, and discovered Adrienne had uncovered a possible story at the nightclub."

"Nothing to do with the entertainment piece, I gather?"

"Nothing at all. I'm going there to have a look around tonight."

"Liander wants to take me to the premier of his latest movie tonight."

I raised my eyebrows. "My, my, my."

"Indeed." He screwed up his nose. "Suits and attention are not my style."

"Since when? You love attention and dressing up. It's just that by going as his date, you're making it truly official."

"There is that."

"And you're still afraid to make it official, despite the fact that you've all but committed to him."

"Only outside working hours."

"That's all he's ever asked, Rhoan."

"I know." He sighed. "But I like the anonymity of what we share now. I don't want to have my picture in all the trade and gossip mags. It would make my job here harder."

"Have you explained this to him?" I held up my hand before he could answer. "Of course you haven't. That would be the sensible thing and you don't do sensible in relationships."

"Now there's the pot calling the kettle black."

"I haven't committed to anyone."

"No, but you have a good man who wants to commit and see just where the relationship goes."

"The difference between me and Kellen and you and Liander is the fact I do talk to Kellen. Besides, it's only in recent months we could truly be considered mates. You and Liander have been mates forever, and you admit you love him."

"None of which excuses the fact that you won't do the sensible and commit to Kellen—not even for a month or so."

I gave him a look. "This isn't about me. This about you. Go home and talk to Liander. Be honest with him."

He took a sip of coffee. "I'll talk if you do."

"Deal."

"I'll check with Kellen, you know."

"Ditto, bro."

He grinned and rose. "I foresee busy phone lines in our apartment tomorrow. That is, if you're intending to come home tonight."

"Got to. I need fresh clothes." I hesitated, half thinking about mentioning the car incident, then deciding against it. He'd only get all fussy and protective, and right now I didn't feel up to handling that.

Of course, he'd be a very unhappy little werewolf when he did find out—and I had no doubt he would. Eventually. We might not share the telepathy of twins, but we could often sense when the other was in danger. If the bastard behind these attempts had a serious go, Rhoan would know about it.

So I simply added, "Hope we've got hazelnut."

"Yep. I went shopping yesterday."

"You're going to make Liander such a good little housewife one day."

He snorted. "Given your refusal to shop, the same will never be said of you."

I grinned. "When someone else will do it, why bother?"

"Lazy cow."

"Bitch," I corrected. "The cow is down the hall in the liaisons' office."

He shook his head and headed out the door. I sipped the bitter coffee and got back to the business of reading files.

Another hour, and the search results were through. It turned out there were more than twenty murders in the last ten years that bore similarities to our current ones. I hit print, then drained the cold dregs of coffee from my cup and rose. Once I'd collected the printouts, I dumped them on my desk and headed out. Enough was enough for one day. My eyes already felt dry and gritty. I needed to get some sleep if I was intending to go out tonight.

As I caught the elevator back up to the parking lot, I dragged my cell phone out and rang Kellen.

"Riley," he answered warmly. "Wasn't expecting to hear from you for another couple of hours."

Just hearing his voice had me smiling. "You feel like checking out a new club tonight?"

He paused a beat. "Given your love for the old clubs, I'm gathering this is work related?"

"Yeah. I've got to check out Mirror Image, and thought you'd like to come along."

"If you're intending to fuck others, it's probably better if I don't. I've staked my claim, Riley, even if you haven't yet agreed, and I will fight for what is mine."

"The fact that you'd even think I'd do something like that shows how little you really know me."

"Riley, you're the one that keeps telling me you're a free agent."

"Yeah, but—"

"No buts. Free agents go where they please, do whom they please. But I will not stand apart and watch it."

"I'm not asking you to. And I wouldn't do that to you. I'm just going to look, nothing more." No need to get all jealous and antsy, I thought silently.

Even if knowing that he was made my hormones get all dizzy and excited. Not that my hormones ever needed much prompting.

"Fine then," he said.

"I'll pick you up at eleven."

"Great."

That didn't sound entirely convincing. But with a silent shrug at the peculiarities of men, I hung up and went home.

But the peaceful slumber I was hoping for didn't materialize. When I got home, Blake was waiting for me.

"What the fuck have you been doing?" he said, voice filled with an anger that would have cowed the sensible.

I dumped my keys and handbag on the sofa then continued on to the kitchen. I had a bad feeling I was going to need a beer. "What I've been doing is none of your goddamn business."

Not the wisest comment in the world, as evidenced by the explosion of anger that suddenly filled the room.

"I am your pack leader," he bellowed. "You will show me some respect."

I grabbed a beer, pulled the tab, and took several gulps. Then I said, flatly and softly, "You and the pack can go to hell as far as I'm concerned. I'm helping because you threatened my mother, not because I want to or need to. And if you don't like it, then fuck off and find someone else to help you."

His fists clenched, and part of me was suddenly glad he was neither real nor here. I remembered the feel of those fists. I might be able to defend myself against them now, but part of me still feared them.

"My granddaughter is dead" His voice was low and venomous. "And you strut around here drinking beer and throwing attitude. She's dead."

Jodie had already told me that, but regret washed through me anyway. Not so much because Adrienne was, beyond a doubt, dead, or because this monster and his kin so grieved for her. The regret was for Jodie, who had so obviously built her world around Adrienne and who now had nothing, "And this is my fault because…?"

"Because you were supposed to find her."

"Even a guardian can't work miracles." I took another sip of beer, then leaned a hip on the doorframe and added, "Besides, you're the one with the psi-skills. Why haven't you done anything to find her?"

"Because Adrienne's mind-blind, and therefore a dead zone for me."

In life and now in death, I thought grimly. But at least it explained why he was harassing me rather than Rhoan. He might not be able to read my thoughts thanks to the strength of my shields, but he could still sense me. "So if Adrienne was mind-blind, did that mean she didn't have the family trait of clairvoyance?" And why would Dia and Jodie say otherwise?

"Oh, she had it. In fact, she was probably stronger than most of us."

"How, if she was mind-blind?"

He shrugged. "I'm no expert. Her talent wasn't strictly clairvoyance though. She wasn't intuitive and didn't dream, but she could touch people and see things. Sometimes past, sometimes future, but always about that person."

"I'm surprised you didn't try to harness a talent like that for the pack's benefit."

It was sarcastically said, but for once, Blake didn't seem to notice, "We tried. She wasn't obliging."

Good for her.

"So what are you going to do about Adrienne?" he continued.

"Same thing I'm going to do for the other three who have disappeared—try to find whoever is responsible."

"Trying is not good enough."

"Well, it'll have to be." I paused. "Where did you get that picture of the man that was in the files you sent?"

"Found it on her desk."

"At home?"

"Yes." He frowned. "Why is this important? Have you found out who he was?"

"Not yet. Was there anything else on her desk? Notes or anything?"

"If there were any notes, it'd be on her laptop. Which," he added, "has disappeared along with her."

She'd had the laptop on the island, so her disappearance had to have happened sometime between her stepping off the island boat and getting the plane back to Melbourne.

Was that drawing of the man she'd bumped into at the club, and was he connected to the disappearances? Or something else?

"There were no notes on the drawing itself?"

"Nothing at all."

Then how the hell did he get the name Jim Denton? I doubted that he just plucked it out of thin air. "If there's nothing else, then you and I have nothing more to talk about. So you can just fuck off and leave me alone."

He glowered at me for several seconds, then said, "Patrin and Kye are coming to Melbourne. Patrin wants a full report."

Great. Just what I needed. One arrogant son of a bitch harassing me in person. "Who the hell is Kye?"

"His bodyguard."

"So the great Patrin needs a bodyguard?" The thought cheered me no end.

"Patrin has been helping police with certain inquiries and, as a result, has been receiving threats. Hence Kye's presence."

"And these threats have absolutely nothing to do with Adrienne's disappearance?" No.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely. He should be in Melbourne tomorrow. I expect you to be helpful."

"If Patrin comes anywhere near me, I'll break his fucking neck."

"Remember your mother," he said, and disappeared from sight.

Bastard, bastard, bastard.

I blew out a breath, then drained the rest of the beer and tossed the can into the trash. The buzz of anger and alcohol running through my system suggested that while I might need to sleep, it wasn't going to happen any time soon. For several seconds I internally wrestled with the idea of going to the Blue Moon and catching some action, but Kellen's image kept swimming through my mind. If I wanted to explore the depths of our relationship, then I would have to start getting serious. Maybe not commit-to-a-solo-relationship serious—not just yet, anyway—but I would have to start proving to him that he—that we—were important.

Giving up the clubs would be hard. I loved them, loved the feel of them, loved the passion and excitement within them—but if I had to ditch the Blue Moon to prove that I didn't want to lose what I had with Kellen, then I would.

Because there was a whole lot of passion and excitement there, too.

So I settled for the next best thing to the Blue Moon—a hot, scented bath and several bars of chocolate.

Mirror Image sat in the hub of an industrial estate, far away from any residential area, nullifying any complaints they might otherwise have gotten over the bass-heaving music issuing from the joint.

I slammed the car door shut and let my gaze run over the neon-lit club. It was a typical factory design—metal roof, high concrete walls, and few windows. What glass there was decorated the front, in what would have been an office area in any normal factory. Unlike regular wolf clubs, this one had no line of people waiting to get in, but given the fact this particular club dwarfed most wolf clubs, I guess that wasn't really surprising.

Just for a moment, I felt something… odd. There was something here, something dangerous, and it reminded me of the evil I'd sensed at the murder scenes. Only it wasn't coming from the club, but rather from behind me.

I turned around, but couldn't see anything but the smoke from the nearby factories blowing along with the breeze. The sensation faded and I mentally shrugged. Maybe the near misses had made me jumpier than I'd realized.

Kellen looked at me over the roof of the car, his expression bordering on dubious. "You realty want to go in there?"

"Doesn't look much from the outside, does it?"

"No." He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring widely. "I can smell humans. Lots of them."

"That's because there are."

"And our government thinks this is a good idea because…?"

"Because the government is mostly men, and men tend to think with their little heads more than their big-heads."

He laughed, a warm and merry sound that had a smile tugging my lips. "That is such a female thing to say."

"But it's true, isn't it?"

"Only every other minute." He held out his hand. "Shall we go check out the joint?"

"Let's." I walked around the front of the car and clasped his fingers. His touch was warm and chased away the chills skating across my skin. Whether those chills were caused by the cool night and my somewhat scanty clothing, or something else, I wasn't entirely sure.

My heels clicked on the pavement, a sound that seemed to echo across the night, jarring sharply against the heavy music and rumble of voices emanating from the club. The double glass doors opened as we approached, and the noise hit harder, briefly making my cars ache.

A thick-set shifter with cat-green eyes gave us a welcoming grin. "Here to party?"

"Yeah," Kellen said, voice almost getting lost in the thump of music. "Heard it's the place for couples to be."

"That it is." The shifter's gaze skimmed my body appreciatively, and Kellen's grip went from my hand to my waist. "Come on. You folks been here before?"

When we shook our heads, he escorted us to the payment window then ran us through the rules. Basically, they had much the same regulations that ruled wolf clubs the world over, along with the addition of the "no harm to the humans" rules Jodie had mentioned. The bouncer didn't ask us to sign a waiver, but then as a shifter himself, he would have sensed we weren't human. Still, I could see forms sitting on the cashier's desk, some of them signed, and figured that's what they were. Humans would have to sign a waiver against their right to sue, otherwise the club wouldn't be able to operate, simply because no one would insure them. Weres, the moon fever, and humans could never be a good mix in a sexually charged environment, and anyone who thought otherwise was a fool.

Once we'd paid, we entered the club.

Immediately we were hit by the noise, the lights, and the thick heavy air that burned down the throat and smashed into the senses.

There was nothing subtle about this place, no pretense about what it was and what it was catering to. It was in-your-face, no-apologies sex and indulgence, and the richness of it was almost mind-humbling. I took a deep breath, allowing the heated, lusty atmosphere to soak through my body, and felt the familiar ache begin.

The main room was large and long, and there were plenty of people packed inside. Lights scrolled across the vast expanse—flickers of yellow, red, and blue that highlighted the masses moving on the dance floor while leaving large areas in shadow.

Kellen's fingers squeezed mine, and he nodded toward an empty booth on the outskirts of the left side of the dance floor. "Want to grab that, or would you rather dance?"

Given my near miss with Shadow, and the hankering need that had been plaguing me ever since, there was only ever going to be one answer to that question. "Dance."

We made our way down the stairs, my heels slipping slightly on the highly polished white tiles. The whole place was white, in fact. Floor, ceiling, furniture. White on white. It should have felt as cold as hell, but it didn't, thanks to the lights and the sheer mass of people loving, laughing, and generally having a good time.

Kellen led me onto the dance floor. Down here, the grunts of pleasure and the slap of flesh against flesh mingled heavily with the thump of music, and the air was thick with the rich aroma of sweat and wantonness. But it was mixed with a sense of almost guilty recklessness, and I put that down to the kids-in-a-candy-shop mentality. The humans here might be enjoying themselves, but it was almost like they knew that at any minute they'd get caught and the fun would stop.

Still, the heat of their desire was as thick and as strong as any were's, and my breath caught, then quickened. The press of so much flesh—even if it was mostly clothed flesh—made my skin burn and my already erratic heart race that much harder. I wanted—needed—to be loved.

Kellen wrapped his arms around my waist, then pulled me close and began a slow dance that was totally out of sync with the music. Music that was barely audible over the frantic pounding of my pulse. Sweat formed where we touched, and the air was so thick with the heat of our desire I could hardly breathe.

"Everyone is either dressed or half dressed," he murmured, his hands sliding sensually down my back to my butt. "Do you think we should go naked and stir them up?"

"Not when I'm trying to avoid attention." I pressed closer to him, rubbing myself across his erection. "Besides, the important bits of me are naked."

"Hmm," he said, sliding his hands under my skirt and discovering my bare butt. "So they are."

"And now," I murmured, as I slid down his fly and released him from his jeans, "So are yours."

He smiled and kissed me, and oh, what a kiss. From that point on, there was little conversation. We danced, we played, and we teased each other, nipping and caressing until our breathing was harsh and the need that pulsed between us became all-consuming.

And when it finally became too much to stand, his mouth claimed mine again, his kiss fierce as he lifted me up and onto him. Then he was in me, filling me, and it felt so damn good I groaned.

With my legs wrapped tightly around his waist, I began to move, riding him slowly, savoring the feel of him, the power of him, until the waves of pleasure rippling across my skin became a molten force that would not be denied. A howl of pleasure tore up my throat—a sound lost to the overall noise—as the shudders of completion ripped through us both.

"That," I said, when I'd finally caught my breath, "was amazing."

"Yep." He dropped a kiss on my nose. "Seems you and I are not put off by the scent of humans."

"I don't think anything would put us off if we were horny enough." I unlocked my legs from around his waist and stood. "I need a drink, and I need to find the bathroom."

"The bar is to our right. I'll get the drinks and find a table, which means you'll have to find the bathroom by yourself."

"A tough task, but I think I'll manage." I leaned forward, dropping a quick kiss on his lips, then made my way back through the crowd. There was a good amount of space between the dance floor and the booths, so the overheated air seemed a little cooler around the edges, I fanned my dress as I walked, but it didn't do a whole lot to stop the sweating.

One thing I did notice was the fact that there didn't seem to be any vamps here. Shifters and weres of all types, as well as hundreds of humans, but no vampires. Perhaps there was too much temptation for the young ones, and too much noise for the old ones.

I certainly couldn't imagine Quinn liking a place like this. But then, he'd dislike it for reasons that had nothing to do with the noise, and a whole lot to do with my werewolf lifestyle.

And, I thought grumpily, I really should stop thinking about him. He was out of my life, and I was better for it—no matter what my somewhat treacherous heart might think.

I continued on, skimming the edges of the dance floor, looking for the bathroom and anything out of place. But there was nothing more than sex and a whole lot of enjoyment happening. Which in itself was amazing. Who'd have thought humans could be so sexually free after all the years of giving us crap?

The air near the rear of the room began to get hot again, the air conditioning obviously struggling to cope with the sheer mass of people down at this end. I went to the bathroom, then stopped under one of the vents just outside the door, sucking in the cool air and letting it caress my sweat-beaded skin. It felt like a tiny spot of heaven in this oven-like environment.

And that's when I felt it—an odd tingling buzz around the edges of my thoughts. Someone—or something—was trying to read me. I scanned the room quickly, but the touch was gone before I could really pinpoint it.

For no good reason, I remembered Shadow's comments about the brief intrusion one of his vamps had felt the night they'd serviced Callie's party. A shiver ran across my skin, and I rubbed my arms lightly.

In a crowd this size, it was a given that there'd be psychically talented people here, whether they were human or nonhuman. There was absolutely no reason to think that that brief touch was, in any way, connected to Callie or the other murders.

But I was oddly certain that it was.

I walked on, my gaze scanning the seething crowd on the dance floor, but I'd barely taken two steps forward when my other talents kicked in, and I felt it.

The thick sense of evil.

It was here.

Here because it had followed me here. I had sensed it in the parking lot earlier. Why it was following me I had no idea and, right now, I couldn't afford to worry about it. Because the overwhelming feeling I was getting from the spirit or monster or whatever the hell it was, was excitement. This place was like a newly found candy store to a hungry kid.

Only what this evil hungered for was death. Bloody, brutal, death.

My stomach began to churn. I had to stop this thing, whatever it was. Had to at least try.

I stopped, and tried to pinpoint where the main sense of this evil lay. My gaze rested on a petite blonde dancing with a rangy, brown-haired guy. Though they weren't getting all hot and heavy, they had been. Even from where I stood I could smell sex on them, could smell him all over her.

But he wasn't the source of the darkness. That was coming from above her, from the shadows that cloaked the ceiling.

My gaze rose. There was nothing to be seen in the rafters—nothing but electrical wiring, cameras, and dusty webs, at any rate. But it was there, somewhere. Hovering. Waiting.

For what?

The woman laughed—a soft, flirtatious sound that drew my attention again. She leaned forward, giving her companion a tender kiss, then turned and walked away.

The shifting feel of evil followed her.

So did I.

I kept close, following the shimmer of her blonde hair more than her scent, which kept getting lost in die heated air.

As I walked, I kept scanning for Kellen, trying to catch sight of him. Eventually I spotted him still at the bar. I glanced once more at the blonde, noting her trajectory, then ducked through the crowd, pushing several people out of the way and ignoring the nasty comments thrown my way.

I touched Kellen's arm, and he looked over his shoulder. "Sorry it's taking so long—"

"I have to go," I interrupted sharply, checking to see where my quarry was. As I suspected, she was heading up the steps and toward the door.

"What?" Kellen said, pushing away from the bar. "Why?"

"Work. I'll explain later." I kissed him quickly then pulled away. His fingers slithered unsuccessfully down my arm as I disappeared between a small gap in the squash of bodies. I ducked through the thick crowd, using my reflexes and vampire speed to get to the doors as fast as possible.

The woman had already disappeared through them. I raced up the steps, heels clattering and sliding on the polished floor, and all but crashed through the doors after her.

"Hey, careful," the bouncer said.

I kicked off my shoes and gave him a tight grin. "Sorry. These heels are the pits on those tiles."

"Yeah, a few ladies have mentioned that. You leaving so soon?"

"Got a call from work." I shrugged, my gaze slipping past him to the windows. The woman was approaching a white Ford parked near the exit.

"That's a shame." The bouncer opened the door and offered me a card. "You'd better take one of these. It'll let you in anytime you please, on the house. Our way of making up for your shortened stay."

"Much appreciated," I said, taking the card as I slipped out the door.

The blonde had gotten into the Ford. I raced to my car, threw the card on the seat, and started the engine. When the blonde left the parking lot, I was five seconds behind her.

Luckily, it was the middle of the night, and following a white car on empty roads was easy. With one hand still on the wheel, I pressed the corn-link in my ear and said, "Hello, hello, anyone listening?"

"Liaison Benson here," a deep voice said. "What can I do for you, Riley?"

Agent Benson had to he new, because I certainly didn't recognize his voice. And I knew most of the liaisons by sound and sight, thanks to the time I'd spent in their ranks.

"I need an immediate trace on the following plate number." I drove a little closer and read it out. "Name and address of the owner would be handy."

"Hang on a sec." Keys tapped in the background while Benson whistled tunelessly. "Okay. That car belongs to one Mary Jamieson. I'm sending full details to your onboard."

I leant across and flicked on the computer. "I've got a feeling she could be the next victim of our murderer. Any chance of getting guardian help to that location?"

He made a. clicking sound. "We're at capacity tonight. I'll check with Jack, sec what we can do."

"Let me know ASAP."

"Will do. Oh, and I have a message from Salliane for you."

My eyebrows rose. "What does it say?"

"Give the car keys back, bitch."

I laughed. "Tell her if she wants them, she can come and get them."

"Will do." There was a smile in his warm voice. "I'll contact Jack for you now."

"Thanks, Benson."

"No probs."

The connection went dead, but I left my end open. Who knew, I might need to send an urgent SOS when I got to the blonde's house. And, as Jack often reminded me, I couldn't do that if the voice section of the corn-unit was shut down.

The onboard unit beeped to indicate incoming files. I opened them, then alternated between watching the road and my quarry and reading the files.

Mary Jamieson was thirty-four and lived on one of the newer housing estates currently being built over in Derrimutt, on Melbourne's western edge. She was also, according to the file, very married, and the pic we had of her husband bore little resemblance to the man she'd kissed at the club.

So, adultery was the connection between all the woman. But why would the shadow care? What did it matter to him if these women cheated on their spouses? Even if he'd been betrayed in his own life, why come back from the grave to destroy the lives of complete strangers?

Was he reliving the moment through these other men? Why would even a spirit put himself through that?

"Benson, you still there?"

There was several seconds of silence, then Benson's warm voice caressed my eardrums. "Still here."

"Would you be able to put in an acquisition order for the security tapes at the Mirror Image nightclub? I need the recordings for the main room between"—I hesitated and glanced at the clock—"eleven-thirty and twelve."

Mary and her date had obviously been there longer than that, but I just needed enough of an image to identify him. And the less tape the club had to hand over, the happier they'd be.

"That could take several hours. Private enterprises tend not to be helpful about handing over security tapes."

"Do whatever it takes. I need to know who Mary Jamieson was at that club with tonight."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks again, Benson."

He signed off a second time, and I followed Mary onto the freeway, heading past the city and into the western suburbs. She actually didn't live all that far from me, and part of me ached with the thought of going home and catching some sleep. But that wasn't an option. Not now, and probably not in the near future.

She zigzagged through several streets, entering the Brimbank Gardens Estate and winding through several more streets before she finally stopped. I pulled to a halt several doors down and switched off the lights as she got out of the car. Her house was a pretty little two story painted in muted pastel colors.

She dug in her bag as she approached the door, but if she was looking for house keys it didn't matter, because the door opened. A solidly built man in his mid-thirties stood there. Even from where I sat, it was easy to see he was far from happy.

She didn't say a word, just pressed a hand to his chest and thrust him back before stepping through the door and slamming it closed.

I grabbed my badge from the secure compartment under the seat then climbed out of the car and ran for the house. They were shouting at each other, their words shrill, their voices rilled with anger. I leapt over the side gate, heard the skitter of nails on concrete, and swung around to see a big black Lab running at me.

A threatening rumble rolled up my throat. The Lab stopped, his expression one of confusion as he sniffed the air. Then his head and tail dropped, and he hunkered down. Recognition of a superior.

I gave him a pat as I passed, following the voices to the back of the house. Two windows had the shades drawn, but the third didn't. I stopped and peered in.

They were in the kitchen. She was putting on the kettle, and he was yelling and gesticulating wildly behind her. He had some sort of accent, and was talking so damn loud and fast I could only understand half of what he was saying. Not that I needed to when the underlying message was clear.

Hubby knew where she'd been and what she'd been doing—even if not who.

My gaze went back to the woman. The creeping sense of evil no longer seemed to hover over her, but it was here, somewhere. Its darkness stained the night—a floating, nebulous feeling of death and destruction that sent chills skating across my body.

If this thing was a soul, then it was a hungry one.

And Mary Jamieson was about to become its next victim.